Mojave Sand, Springs, and Winds: From Big Bear City to Cajon Pass

After finishing off the morning buffet (doughnuts, peanut butter, and fruit), we spent the next few hours practically consuming coffee intravenously while waiting for my latest video to upload (the hotel’s Internet was painfully slow and spotty), which took hours. Unfortunately, about three-quarters of the way through, I pressed the wrong button and all that work was gone. The time I spent walking around the track, stretching, and doing yoga (while waiting to load) turned out to be a waste of time.

At this point we were literally shaking to get back on the trail. We grabbed our heavy backpacks and began hitchhiking across the street to the 7-Eleven. Right on cue, Anne stopped, doing her “good deed of the day,” and quickly took us back to the trailhead where we had left off. At 11:00 am, our feet were back on the ground and an immediate sense of calm washed over us. This is truly our happy place.

The trail was lined with pine nuts, phloxes, sagebrush, and shad, with the fragrant aroma of crushed juniper berries with every step. The sky was a deep blue and the temperature remained a perfect 64°.

At mile two and a half, we reached the junction of Doble Trail Camp and Baldwin Lake to the east. Anne had explained to us that if winter brings heavy snowfall, the lake will fill with water, reaching a depth of only about two meters, approximately once every four years.

And there it lay: snake number five.

Just past Bertha Peak, the trees opened up to a panoramic view of Big Bear Lake, with the snow-capped San Gorgonio and San Bernardino Mountains in the background and Big Bear Mountain Resort right in front.

The remaining kilometers were absolute gravy. As the afternoon grew longer and the trail opened up to views of the ridge tops, the sun was at its best: golden and bright as the afternoon chill began to set in. We ended our day at Little Bear Springs, which turned out to be one of our most memorable campsites yet. The afternoon views were indescribable and the wildlife came out to play, clearly thinking that all the hikers had already spent the day. Since we were the last to set up camp and it was getting too late to cook, we quickly put on warm clothes, devoured a loaf of food (meant for tomorrow) and went to bed.

It was a bitterly cold night, with temperatures dropping to the freezing point and staying at 32° until we broke camp. It’s always difficult to mentally prepare for the day when you open your eyes and see a layer of ice on the inside of your tent. You’re not doing yourself any favors if you stick around, thinking it will magically warm up or defrost. The only way out is to get through: get dressed, make coffee, have breakfast, pack your bags and get going. It’s easier said than done when you have absolutely no sensation in your ten digits, but like every day, within a couple of miles, sensation returns to your fingers and toes, the layers start to peel away, and pretty soon it’s a nice 49°.

When we arrived at Little Bear Springs, there were no other tent sites available, leaving us with an unused horse corral, just big enough for a two-person tent. Neither of us had ever slept inside a metal pen, but why not? Before you judge, it was one of the best nights’ sleep we’ve had in a long time – it was flat, quiet and the air was perfectly calm. The tent was soaked as always, but we’ll take three out of four! Also, there was no chance of a large animal reaching out to us while we were sleeping, although I swear I heard mice looking for a warm place to curl up.

It turned out to be a long day and the trail wasted no time testing us. Just inside the first mile, No Caffeine entered a soft patch of sand that collapsed beneath her, sending her gracefully face-first into the rough dirt and gravel. He got up again, dusted himself off, and we continued moving across the open rock fields.

The next ten miles were like walking uphill on a beach, but the incredible rock formations and perfect hiking weather (windy, cloudy, and cool) more than made up for it. Then it was my turn. I drove a nasty bulldozer into a thorny thicket, ripping my pants and drawing blood from my palms.

One or two plasters later, the terrain finally turned into a forest. The hard sand gave way to a cozy forest, where we passed some of my favorite familiar plants: mullein, sagebrush, wormwood, mugwort, and quince.

We then approached Deep Creek, following each curve in parallel from a narrow traverse high above the cliff until we reached Deep Creek Hot Springs. It wasn’t our original intention to hike 24 miles, but with few camping options and rain coming in, that’s where we landed. It turned out to be a blessing. We met up with Ghost and Sky, both from our original April 6 group, and Pistol, who we first met outside of Julian. We all piled into the warm water with several other hikers and a local, soothing our aching bodies while comparing the blisters on our feet.

After a late dinner, we slept like a rock – it was exactly what we needed. However, the evening had its peculiarities; A local informed us that the water did not contain any minerals and, at the same time, handed out psychedelic mushrooms to hikers as if they were candy. We weren’t sure what to believe, but the warm bath was a pleasure anyway.

After a rainy night in the desert, we packed up our gear at the hot springs and headed out into the sun. Oddly enough, even after two days of “reducing the weight of our backpack,” our bags didn’t feel any lighter. Maybe it’s all the sand we’ve been carrying around inside our tent adding up to the extra pounds; I swear, there is sand in absolutely everything. We definitely miss camping in the woods.

We continued parallel to Deep Creek for the first five miles of the morning, through hazy sunshine and thick fog, until we turned a corner and encountered an entirely different sight: the Mojave River Dam, a 200-foot-tall dry earth dam built in 1971. It’s a massive feat of engineering, and today we found ourselves walking right next to it, though not without one more water crossing over Deep Creek. The “bridge” was made up of a couple of twigs; No Caffeine narrowly managed to cross, while I fell, submerging one leg up to the knee.

Afterwards, we followed a beautiful wooded trail along the river, with willows and cottonwoods trembling in the breeze. It was cool and shady, it almost felt like fall in New England.

Soon, the distant sounds of a train and civilization became visible as we ascended what was once an ancient paved road, leaving the dam and river behind and heading toward Hesperia. Gusts of wind hit us from the south at 32 kilometers per hour. Totally exposed, the wind whipped in our faces for the rest of the day, turning every step into endurance training.

As we approached the top of the trail above Silverwood Lake, we were greeted by three small, barking but happy dogs, inviting us to some unexpected trail magic. “Part Time,” a 2017 PCT alum, and his pups, Potato, Addie, and Billy, offered us beer, snacks, and of course, lots of puppy love. They were adorable and gave us the exact push we needed to hike a few more miles to our campsite at Silverwood Lake State Recreation Area.

A fellow hiker had reserved a campsite there and kindly offered some of us extra space. It wasn’t the best night’s sleep, since the park borders Route 138, but it saved us from having to walk to the hiker/biker camp furthest from the trail. The next morning, bright and early, we set off right on time.

Today we chase the sun and the «Golden Arches». Yes, there is actually an iconic McDonald’s right on the PCT in Cajon Pass, located on old Route 66, now ‘the 15’. As vegans, we didn’t partake in the traditional hiker challenge of packing a mountain of Mickey D’s to fuel the final 35 miles to Wrightwood, but we happily settled for a hot coffee and a real bath. The state park campgrounds were so dirty that you had to wonder if you needed a tetanus shot just by touching the doorknob, making hot running water and soap a welcome luxury.

The trail was well maintained and pleasant by basic hiker standards. It was a cool 46° with lingering fog and soft gray clouds hovering above us, but we stayed in our shorts, anticipating the sun that was supposed to greet us in the afternoon. We passed under crackling power lines to the distant horn of the Cajon train and then unexpectedly found ourselves on the edge of a spectacular gorge, and it was beautiful.

Purple grass and wild oats guided us over the pass to an old crumbling, paved section of historic Route 66 used between 1910 and 1930. Today, Cajon Pass is a 3,777-foot mountain corridor that separates the San Bernardino and San Gabriel mountain ranges, and has deep historical significance as a key segment of the Old Spanish Trail. We have never seen so much constant, congested traffic on a single road!

A quick 0.4 mile detour took us directly to McDonald’s for a hot coffee and a quick visit with our friends. We managed to cover 14 miles in just four and a half hours this morning, and we have about 10 more miles left to finish the day. After refilling our water, we pushed on toward Wrightwood via Lytle Creek, which ascends for 20 miles with a brutal 16-mile water carry. Fortunately, we were able to fill our bottles at the Swarthout Canyon water tower. A simple thank you isn’t enough for trail angels who literally carry 100 gallons of water a day! Without these caches, we would literally become dehydrated.

Although our original intention was to walk until dark, we were pretty wiped out. Also, we will be taking nero and zero starting tomorrow and we want to get ahead of it. We set up our tents on a dirt road with views of the San Bernardino and San Gabriel mountain ranges. The plan is to get up at 4:00 am and move around with the headlamp at 5:00! I’m not sure there is enough coffee in the world to motivate me this early, but No Caffeine will make sure we arrive on time.

TO BE CONTINUED…