Waking up to a temperature of 65°, we multitasked: coffee, breakfast, stuffing the quilts, getting dressed, and leaving the tent, mostly with me inside.
My wife is punctual and likes to stick to a schedule. A second after the alarm goes off, he sits up and brushes his teeth and makes coffee at the same time. I, on the other hand, am still wiping the sleep from my eyes and logistically trying to figure out how to sit up. She refers to me as a little bird waking up for the first time. If we’re not packed and ready to go by 6am, they’ll gently remind me how to better prioritize, my ‘garage sale’, better known as the contents of my backpack, scattered throughout the store.
We hit the pavement for about three-quarters of a mile, and on the way down we ran into a Snow Creek local who let us know: There were two Gatorades left in the magic box on the trail where the pavement ended and the sand began. We generally did not drink this, but knowing that we were in for a long, hot day with very little water, we were grateful for the kindness and gladly participated.
With a surge of electrolytes, 20 mph winds assaulting us from the side, and 2 inches of sand over the next 2 miles to ‘raise’ anyone’s calves, ‘we’re coming for you I-10’!
Interstate 10 (better known as ‘the 10’; the I is meaningless to CA residents) is a 2,460-mile transcontinental stretch of asphalt connecting Santa Monica, CA to Jacksonville, FL, but for us, it was just a quick milestone. We stopped under the overpass to sign the 2026 wall, eager to trade the roar of freight trucks and container trains for the remote silence of Mission Creek; Only later would these thoughts come back to haunt us.
Leaving the noise behind and giving a quick middle finger to the backdrop of San Jacinto, we moved toward the tranquility of Mission Creek. We spent the rest of the day walking through knee-high grasses of straw and sagebrush, passing those huge windmills that looked like little specks of dust from the top of San Jacinto just a day ago. It felt good to finally trade the pavement for the remote trail again.
Then, less than two feet from my feet, curled up in the shade of a brittle bush that overlooked the trail, was a rattlesnake. He made his presence known loudly, and No Caffeine also did so with a loud shout. I was fine and angry and definitely not going anywhere. Once he regained what little composure he had left, we walked away and continued down the trail.
Whitewater River, was our first ankle deep crossing on the PCT and in the 91° heat it was refreshing. The water was crystal clear and flowing strongly, so we filtered enough water to get us to camp.
For the next few hours, we walked along windy ridge lines and trudged through the sand. Did I mention it was hot?
Twenty-one miles later, we finally reached Mission Creek, snagged a spot by the water, and just crashed, barely having enough energy to make a hot meal. But first, we take some time to soak our feet and remove the layer of salt stuck to our skin; It’s amazing how a little water can make you feel human again. It was a long and exhausting day, but arriving at a new place with a new change of scenery made it all worth it.
The sound of Mission Creek lulled us to sleep, then at 10 pm we were awakened by the sound of five happy hikers making s’mores over an illegal California campfire (prohibited in this area, even with a permit). To their credit, they asked to share it with anyone who wanted one. Yuck! Like a couple of light sleepers… It was a rookie mistake to camp at a popular spot, but going a mile further was exhausting even thinking about it a few hours before.
This was all the encouragement we needed to get up and out on time. Just a few steps from our door we were crossing the soon to become infamous creek, to the other side. 
The morning sun cast a golden glow on the mountain tops, although we stayed cool in the shadows below. The trail started out promising, but as much of it had eroded or collapsed into the creek, the next 12 miles became a total chore; Honestly, it felt more like torture. The PCT, now gone.
We spent the entire morning scrambling in deep sand, climbing rocks, and backtracking across water at least 15 times. It was a huge workout, both mentally and physically. Looking back at our GPS route afterwards, all that «weaving» made it look like we were either completely lost or walking under the influence!
Although the trail is now one with the creek, we used our topo map and found an access point to the old trail. It took us about 100 meters of cactus to walk – gently on tiptoe – we found it, slightly overgrown, but our feet happy to be back on the PCT! From there, we only had 5 more miles and an afternoon to get our bearings on the disconnected trail.
We ran into Yukon, who we had met a few days ago near Cedar Springs. He told us that he actually thought the creek trail was fun, which is crazy, because for most hikers, that section would later cause lasting trauma. Being from Alaska, he said it felt like the river rock jump he does at home. His sentiment made us briefly forget about the difficult miles we had just endured, although it definitely triggered some «Rocksylvania» flashbacks to our time on the AT.
Then the trail simply disappeared, eroding toward the creek. It was a slow, messy crawl (and climb) from one ravine to the next, as we pieced our way forward, relying on a patchwork of steps, cairns and rotting, remnant signs. Just as frustration was peaking, we ran into a PCT tracking team working hard to fix it again; We expressed our deep gratitude for their work and they wished us a safe trip. We were soon rewarded with a mile of beautifully maintained trail just before reaching our last water source at Mission Creek Camp. We filled up there, loading our backpacks with 4.5 liters each to cover dinner, morning coffee, and the 18-mile stretch to tomorrow’s camp.
Tonight, we’ll treat ourselves to a bed of pine needles just a couple of miles past Mission Creek Campground, tucked inside Sand to Snow National Monument. Established just a decade ago, this 150,000-acre landscape is an incredible hotspot of biodiversity, stretching from the low desert to the 11,500-foot peak of San Gorgonio Mountain. Managed by the BLM and USFS, the area protects a wide range of wildlife habitats and, fortunately for us, encompasses 30 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail.
It was a beautiful way to end the day!
Honestly, the miles from PVC to Mission Creek have been a challenge. The terrain is technical, dangerous and for the most part missing, literally!
We’ve booked a spot in Big Bear City to grab a quick nero and pick up our resupply. Our spirits are high, but the mind and body need a little rest to prepare for the next stretch.
TO BE CONTINUED…
