People say that on a clear day you can see the Pacific Ocean from San Jacinto Peak.
Well… we didn’t.
But what we saw the day before was no less extraordinary.
Let’s go back.
I don’t remember hearing much about the San Jacinto Wilderness before starting the PCT. Paradise Valley Café, yes, absolutely. Everyone’s talking about it, especially because of the promise of the «best burger on the road.»
And honestly? It did not disappoint.
That morning, we woke up at a magical trail campground around mile 142; I’m pretty sure I mentioned it in my previous post. The setup was incredible: couches, large tables, even two fully pitched tents with inflated mattresses inside. The coolers were packed with goodies for hikers (cold beers included, yes, you heard that right), plus snacks, water, electrolytes, resupply items… all free to go.
So once again, thank you to the generous (and anonymous) angels of the trail who make this experience possible.
In some ways we were already in paradise before we even arrived at the Paradise Valley Café.
The few kilometers downhill to PVC (for the more intimate) passed quickly and we arrived around 10am Some familiar faces were already there and we happily joined Sohan, a hiker originally from New York who now lives in DC.
At some point, I asked the waitress if we could order some “small bites.”
She responded with a smile:
«We’re in America, honey. Nothing is small here.»
Point taken.
We decided to wait an hour and save our appetite for the real thing.
So we treated our blisters, again, caught up on trail news, called family, answered messages, and waited impatiently until 11 a.m., when the kitchen would finally start taking burger orders.
Needless to say, we were prepared.
I chose The Gus: fat, cheesy and deeply promising. Despite my legendary appetite, I couldn’t even finish it. More hikers arrived throughout the morning: Bullfrog from the UK, Boulder from Latvia, Chuck, and a few others whose names I’ve sadly forgotten.
The “Gus”
But that burger stop was just the introduction.
We stayed there for almost four hours, eating, resting, refilling water, and slowly preparing to return to the trail, not realizing what awaited us ahead.
Thanks also to Brian, who drove Claire and me back to the trailhead just a minute after we attempted to hitchhike.
From there, we still had another ten miles to reach the next water source at Cedar Spring Junction.
And then came the San Jacinto Desert.
Those three words meant almost nothing to me during my pre-trail research. However, from the beginning of the section I was captivated.
The trail wound between giant rocks, pine trees, fallen trees, crunchy sand (a sound I’ve always loved under my shoes), and scattered bushes. At first the climbs were gentle. For a few hours, everything seemed calm, almost peaceful.
Feeling quite…small
Then the landscape slowly transformed.
Rocks and bushes gave way to trees. The trees thickened as we climbed, reaching the first ridges just in time for the sun to set over Palm Springs.
And suddenly everything opened up.
We walked along the ridge for what seemed like an eternity. I honestly don’t remember if I found the climb itself difficult or not. What remains in my memory is only the view.
The sheer majesty of an endless city in the desert.
Palm Springs spread out below us in the fading light of evening, surrounded by dry mountains and red sand. The wind hit our faces as the sun disappeared, but somehow, it felt perfect.
Amazing sunset over Palm Springs
There was something brutally beautiful about all of this.
A massive civilization lay right beneath our feet: millions of people driving home from work, meeting their families for dinner, thinking about tomorrow morning, watching movies, planning weekends, taking their kids to soccer practice… living ordinary lives completely removed from our own.
And there we were: two dusty hikers standing on a mountain ridge, watching the stream of moving lights below us: a world we still belonged to, but from which we already felt incredibly far away.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the ridge, an ocean of clouds stretched endlessly below us.
And we were above them.
It felt surreal.
That night we cowboys camped under some trees near Cedar Spring Junction. The sunset was one of those rare moments that I know will stay with me for a long time.
An ocean of clouds
The next morning, we walked to the stream after hiding our backpacks in the bushes to avoid carrying unnecessary weight on the steep descent. We filtered water for the day, climbed back up, and continued another twenty miles toward Saddle Junction, where we planned to begin our secondary quest to reach the top of San Jacinto by sunrise.
By then, my feet finally didn’t hurt anymore and I felt strong.
I was excited for the peak itself.
But the further we got into the San Jacinto Desert, the more I realized that the mountain might just be the icing on the cake. The entire section was becoming one of my favorite parts of the trail so far, maybe even surpassing the stretch to Eagle Rock, which I had loved.
It’s self explanatory
I won’t lie though.
That day was brutal.
Steep and slippery climbs. Dangerous trail conditions. Huge fallen logs to climb. Sharp bushes tearing at my legs. Burned trees blocking the road. Endless returns. Small paths carved into the edges of the cliffs where a wrong step could send you falling into the void.
More than once I thanked the hiking gods for not giving me vertigo.
Some of the wilderness had been burned in previous fires and the entire landscape seemed painted in soft pastel tones: yellow trails, beige rocks, gray ash, pale blue skies.
Majestic, right?
And then, suddenly, the trail rose toward another ridge that overlooked the clouds once more.
My God.
It was impressive.
So beautiful that words themselves seem insufficient.
The section was so physically demanding that we didn’t even stop for lunch until 2:30 pm. When we finally descended towards Saddle Junction and moved a little further to camp around 7:30 that afternoon, we were completely exhausted.
Our muscles were tight and sore.
But we also carry something completely different: a deep sense of achievement and perhaps a new understanding of what the words beauty and nature really mean.
Impossible to describe it completely.
Impossible to forget.
