Day 14: Combs Ridge to Tule Spring (mi 129-144)

More snoozing in the AM was followed by a long downhill slog dropping approx 3500 feet, with our quarry (Mt. San Jacinto) Visible to the north.

Erin saw a snake while I was fiddling with my new pack so that I could film such things. Go figure. My new pack is fitting well and carries a load nicely, but may be pinching a nerve somewhere. I noticed numb outer thighs and a sharp burn in my lower back ensues after 3-4 miles. More adjustments may be necessary. Nothing exciting in terms of bird life today. I observed Fewer common side blotched lizards, and more whiptails. Climate decidedly more desert-like than Warner Springs - dominated by cacti, Joshua trees, and chaparral regulars. We tanked up at a spring and set out to find some shade. The heat became too much for Erin to bear about 1.5 mi past the spring we stopped at mid-morning.Thankfully we found a superb alcove beneath a lone, stunted pine next to a large boulder to while away the afternoon. We watched AD, and hit the trail again after 4. It is impressive how much the conditions affect Erin's demeanor. We hiked on another 5 miles to a well-stocked water cache, met Grady (the guy who arranged the map printing in Portland),  and checked the register. 

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Beautiful water caches!

Erin found a gopher snake on the trail a couple miles south of the cache. I moved it gently, and Erin scooted past.

 

Having not attended kickoff, Erin saw in the register that Marshall,Joe & Nancy are 3 days ahead of us at this point. Grady is hatching an X-men related trail name for me since my shoes have an "x" on the tread. He tried cyclops, but that didn't really stick. We continued on one more mile to camp, saw shotput again, and set up the DR on a slightly more protected ridge than last night. We wolfed down some Alfredo in anticipation of Paradise Valley Cafe tomorrow. 

Coolest critters of the day: I'll have to give this one to the snakes. I wish I could've confirmed the whip snake that Erin saw, and considering how low my overall count of snakes is, I'll take a gopher snake any day.
 

Day 13: Agua Caliente Cañon - Combs Ridge (mi 115-129.2)

Mile 118: Erin sees her first tarantula hawk. 'Was that a small hummingbird?"  

We had been hiking since dawn, making reasonable time breaking camp without having to address blisters for 30-45 minutes each morning, and were about 3 miles away from camp when Erin saw the iridescent, violet black body and unmistakable red wings of the tarantula hawk. Impressively large, it is quite reasonable to think them a bird than the parasitoid wasps that they are. I explained the awesome life history strategy of this group of wasps:

1.) female wasp digs a hole. 

2.) female wasp flies around until a suitable larval host (=tarantula ) is spotted.

3.) female wasp paralyzes tarantula with a high-precision stab of the ovipositor at the end of its abdomen, rendering the locomotive actions of the spider useless, but otherwise fully alive.

4.) wasp grasps tarantula and flies it back to the hole (hence large size of wasp). Wasp lays eggs on spider, backfills entrance tunnel, departs. 

5.) spider sits around, buried alive, with eggs on its back. 

6.) eggs hatch, larvae proceed to eat spider alive.

7.) larvae pupate underground and emerge as adult-form wasps. 

By this point, we hiked about half a mile with a middle-aged Asian gentleman who went by the name half-slow. He was attempting the trail for the 4th time since 2007, and had devised a different strategy to help him complete the journey: he found a trail angel to parallel the trail so that he might meet up for proper civilized arrangements and resupply every couple of days, as he wasn't "young like [us] anymore " (sic). He seemed impressed that we had hiked more than 10 miles in a day at this point in the journey, stating that he kept it to 10 or less for the first 3 weeks. His main piece of advice for desert travel was to get a solar umbrella. We tried to find them at kickoff but alas, it was not to be. It was only after he departed that Erin and I began to question the circumstances of this truly remarkable trail angel. We vowed to ask him about the details next time we met. 

Erin and I ascending the western flank of Agua Caliente Canyon as the sun climbs over the hills. 

Erin next to a blooming yucca. 

 
 

A water break at Lost Canyon spring was less fruitful than initially hoped: the spring was not flowing, and the water from the trough tasted strongly of sulphur. On the bright side, it was cold and wet, and I devised a new technique of scooping water that avoided collection of floaters on the top of the water, in which an inverted scoop is placed in the water column, then righted mid-column to suck all the clean water in. 

The climbing continued - I think we did around 4,000 feet all told today - and the temperature increased. 

Self shot near the top of the major climb,  looking north towards Hemet.

 

Erin's feet began hurting around the 8-mile mark, and we began to look forward to lunch/midday break at a campsite at the 10 mile mark. Sadly, shade was at a minimum, so we made do in a half-comfortable fashion on the shady side of a 15-foot tall boulder. Cooling winds coaxed us out of our break around 3, and we continued on to Casa de Herrera, a local Angel's house with a well-stocked water tank. 

"Good water" for hikers on the left. 
 

 

We ran into several folks from the previous night (manchurian, wagon wheel, Chris, and shotput) and a new chap named acid glasses. We shot the breeze for a bit, and though all were enjoying beers provided by trail angel mike, Erin and I abstained in the interest of a timely departure and an oncoming hunger. We continued the last 2 miles to camp on the Combs Ridge, which overlooked a drop off into a valley, flanked by Santa Rosa Mtn to the northeast and Mt San Jacinto due north. 

Back on the trail leaving trail angel Mike's.

A dinner of red beans and rice - FAR, far superior to the cheddar-broccoli debacle the night before - rounded out the evening underneath a brilliant patchwork of stars.

Coolest critters of the day: today, the award goes to the tarantula hawk. I really, really love how precisely tuned these parasitoid wasps are, with no rational thought or real problem solving abilities. Everything they do is more or less hardwired in this respect.

Day 12: Section B start. Warner Springs - Agua Caliente Cañon (mi 109.5-114.7

Today was a fairly uneventful day, despite starting an entirely new section of the trail with my entirely new pack. My parents picked Erin, Christian and I up from kickoff, drove along the Sunrise Hwy route from Lake Morena to Warner Springs, which roughly paralleled the trail. It was an odd feeling-slightly voyeuristic even- to have access to some of the same vistas we experienced on foot as we blew by them in the automobile. It felt very removed, and  imparted pangs of PTSD upon seeing Granite Mtn, the Scissors Crossing and San Felipe Hills. When I was out hiking it felt fast, and even faster via memory in the car. 

We stopped in Julian for pie from Mom's, a hiker-friendly bakery and deli in town. The pie was free for PCT thru-hikers, and delicious. The cashier didn't even ask to see our permit. Apparently we fit the stereotype well.

The rest of day spent was spent restlessly waiting out the heat of the day in the Warner Springs community center. I attempted to add pictures to this blog using their computers, which are free to use, but no luck.

We started hiking around 430, and the new pack felt great! The fit is fantastic. The trail took us on a nice warm-up loop on the valley floor through ranch land after 3 days of not hiking, then gentle ascent up Agua Caliente cañon. 

Setting out with the new pack, less than a mile from Warner Springs.

Erin and I in a grove of ancient oak trees along the valley floor near Agua Caliente Creek.

 

 

Erin's feet felt great the whole time in new brooks cascadina shoes w/ Sole DK low-profile insoles. 

Erin climbing Agua Caliente Cañon just before sunset.

A patient spiny lizard settled on some granite near the trail.

 
 

We decided not to push anything, and stopped at an established creek side campsite around 7. Good water, lots of photographed but unid'd toads, and California tree frogs chorusing in the background.

Making camp near Agua Caliente Creek.

 

Unidentified, small toads hopped through the campsite all evening. 
 

 

 Dinner was too much 1.5 L of concentrated cheddar brocc soup. I ended up chugging it just so I didn't have to bother with digging a hole to bury it. I went to get rinse water and saw a healthy-sized predaceous diving beetle larva in the creek. 

 Coolest critter of the day: the unidentified toads that I saw were very cool, along with the predacious diving beetle larva that I observed in the creek. I need to get a field guide on my phone so I can reliably identify all these animals, but until then, a general taxonomic description will have to suffice.

Day 11: ADZPCTKO2013 at Lake Morena

We woke up early, and hit the road to the kick off at Lake Morena early on Saturday morning.  After arriving, we attended a seminar put on by the PCTA regarding trail conditions in general safety precautions, and then set into lunch.  My main goal of the kick off was to replace my aging REI flash 40 pack, which wasn't fitting properly and was also falling apart at the seams. I picked up a bright yellow ULA circuit pack from the vendors at the kick off. It fit really well, was sturdily constructed, and looked hot to boot. 

Getting fit by Cris from. ULA.

New pack, locked and loaded. 

We visited with our familiar friends from the trail, ate dinner, and then watched the class video from the 2012 hikers. The video, though long, was insanely motivating and we were ready to hit the trail again that very evening. However, we needed to wait until my parents came to pick us up at the kick off the next morning. We went to sleep in our bed and our shared campsite with about a dozen other hikers, and watched more Arrested Development to calm ourselves into sleeping despite the obvious energy.

 

 

Day 10: San Diego resupply

We spent the day going from place to place, getting shoes, shorts, fabric dye, and all manner of other things that we found out we needed after the first week on the trail. Erin traded out her new balance shoes for some Brooks Cascadia's at REI, along with a set of Sole brand insoles.  I returned a letterman that had a set of scissors die on me, and along with my busted platypus, and found a GoalZero USB – powered battery charger for AA and AAA batteries that I can connect to my solar panel. Big score there. From there we proceeded to get some fabric dye for errands once – white shirt, which had begun sullied from the dirt and ink from her backpack. We rewarded ourselves at Alesmith for a job well done on chores. 

We fought San Diego traffic on the way home after getting some burritos, then headed out to Petco Park to watch the San Francisco Giants take on the San Diego Padres, who were holding down the last place in the NL West division. Sadly, the Giants lost. The game went to normal time, but it felt late to us as hiker midnight is around 9 PM. After their victory, San Diego let off some fireworks that, thankfully for the city, took longer than eight seconds. (A previous fourth of July incident made the city famous for having all of their fireworks go off in an instant, which lasted about eight seconds.) 

 

 

Day 9: Barrel Springs to Warner Springs (mi 101.2-109.5)

Day 9:

Breakfast. Hot breakfast. Eggs, sausage and pancakes, all piping hot and slathered with salsa, butter and maple syrup. Hot coffee. Bottomless hot coffee. After a reasonable night of sleep with the ill-timed laundry of the previous night shoved in my waistband to dry, this was my sole motivation to get out of bed this morning. We did OK in the snooze department (3 snoozes), scrabbled all our things together and got on the trail. It was a cold and overcast morning, though the 20% chance of rain we heard the night before had not materialized in our particular microclimate. I was extra-cold from not eating a proper dinner the night before (on account of our late/lazy zero day schedule), so I supplemented my normal breakfast of randomly crumbled pop tarts with a cold, rock-hard snickers bar several miles in. We hiked through rolling grasslands separated by divides covered in chaparral, with the wind beating at us at a constant 20mph southeast. Erin was fine with the temperature, but I was still underenergized and cold so I put on my wind shirt for the first time. I was impressed - at 2.3 oz, and about half the size of a salt shaker when compressed, the Mont-bell tachyon anorak did a great job of snugging up and keeping the cutting breeze at bay. After several miles, we reached Eagle Rock - which looks like an eagle perched in its eyrie, wings readying for takeoff. 

Eagle Rock

Erin scooting Across the landscape towards Warner Springs.

We took some compulsory photos with the bird-rock and kept moving through the dry prairie to the famed Warner Springs community center. A pleasant descent along a laughing creek, with an ancient valley and live oak canopy was interrupted twice by large herds of cattle. The munching dullards lazily grazed their way across the trail, completely unapologetic about their presence. I shooed them along, and we ambled in to the Warner Springs Community Center in good time, covering the 8+-mile stretch in just over 3 hours, breaks included. 

Hikers and gear at the Warner Springs Community Center. 

 

 

The Warner Springs Community Center is nothing short of remarkable. After the failure of the Warner Springs Ranch resort, which was meant to be a luxury getaway for San Diegans, residents of the tiny hamlet opened up the community center as a stopover point for thru-hikers. They offer breakfast, lunch, laundry and Internet access in an air-conditioned portable building as a fundraiser for the local K-12 school, yet everything is free (donations suggested, and in my mind mandatory unless a cougar stole your wallet). We met up with a great number of hikers we'd been passing back and forth since the start, with Tracy & Ingrid, Atlas, Diego (Sierra Bum), Spoon Man, Marshall, Werewolf, and other familiar characters lounging around. It had rained on them the night before, while Erin and I were clean and dry. I wolfed down my breakfast of sausage, eggs and pancakes, and then helped Erin finish hers. My parents arrived, took a look around at all the scruffy and well-soiled hikers, and gave us a ride out to Ballast Point Brewing Co., where we quenched our thirst for beer. 

My dad sampling the fruits of labor at Ballast Point. 

Erin and I took some much-needed showers at the harborside hotel my mom had picked out, and we were off to dinner at Cucina Urbana on Banker's Hill in San Diego. After several delicious primi, I had a delicious short-rib pappardelle that filled my bottomless stomach. We retired to the hotel room, where we set about unpacking, sorting, blogging, and performing the litany of other tasks that are not feasible during the actual hike. We slept on a fold-out bed that was only marginally more comfortable than the ground, and certainly worse for the back. Still, the sleep was good.

Coolest critter of the day: it was nice to see the horned lark's out in the pastors, as they were much smaller than the western meadowlarks that I was used to. Though it was not alive, the Eaglerock was still quite cool in the fact that it related to a crater very realistically. 

Day 8: Barrel Springs zero (#1)

TOWA CATO SPTO OATI BTGW WAVI BEWR AMCR CORA  WREN NOFL YEWA RTHA CAQU ACWO SCJA AMGO

...an annotated list of birds observed while taking a zero at Barrel Springs, for those of you who speak birder code.

We woke up in the same spot we slept in, which I always consider to be a victory when you pitch a tent in a desert wash (flash floods are simultaneously unpredictable and highly predictable, which is why I hate sleeping in washes). We also woke up far, far later than most everyone else in camp, and relocated our tent with the haste of vampires avoiding the sun so we could snooze in peace longer, mostly without the rising sun turning our tent into a convection oven. I found a nice log that was approximately pillow-height, and set up camp near the water trough beneath a high canopy of valley and live oaks. In between day naps, I watched as a mixed flock of black-throated gray warblers, Townsend's warblers, and yellow warblers gleaned their meals from the surrounding trees. Erin blissfully slept, jotted in her journal, and focused on mending her poor feet.

Group photo of us with the Flying Hons and Atlas at Barrel Springs. 

Toad tadpoles in the trough at Barrel Springs. 

And that's about it. Erin napped, and we socialized with Atlas, the Hons, Tracy & Ingrid, Craig, and a few other hikers, but most of the day was spent doing nothing but relaxing. It felt great, and was justified. Erin and I played some vigorous rounds of casino (card game), cooked a fine tuna alfredo for lunch and even attempted laundry, thanks to the good water source. However, our relaxed mindset meant that we didn't think about doing laundry until around 5 PM, which might have left our laundry time to dry before the morning hike in optimal conditions. After we washed up, Tracy and Ingrid mentioned that it might rain at our camp, which foiled the laundry drying plans. I tried to avoid being wrong on the decision to do laundry by tucking all the damp socks and Erin's damp shirt in my sleeping bag to heat them as I slept, and force them to dry in the process. The method has been successful for me using one pair of socks in the past, so why not... Erin and I finished our game of casino, I tucked in with the laundry, and went to sleep with an optimism of no rain and dry clothes for the morning.  

Day 7: San Felipe Hills to Barrel Springs (mi 82-101.2)

We snoozed longer than we should have that morning, with the threat of a blistering hot day not holding the gravitas it did no more than 24 hours earlier. Erin's feet showed no improvement overnight, but she gritted through the morning regimen of lancing and taping blisters again. At this point, we'd tried everything: duct tape, leukotape, moleskin, second skin, lancing blisters, wicking blisters, rubbing alcohol on the blisters, new insoles, new socks, old socks, clean feet, not so clean feet . . . nothing was working. Additionally, her plantar fascia were suffering the impacts of high miles on ill-fit insoles. Nevertheless, Erin powered on. Speedily? No. 'Determined' was the best descriptor of her pace, as each footstep was testing her resolve to enjoy our trip.

I can't help but think that if I hadn't injured myself skiing, more training and testing of footwear would have been possible and this whole mess avoided. My pack too was doing me no favors: I was reduced to taking breaks every 5-10 minutes as my shoulders cramped up from being levered back... Every attempt at making it more comfortable failed to relieve my spasming shoulders.

We started out at 'determined' pace, and stayed that way all day. The landscape offered little relief after 10 AM, when the sun was high enough that the trails' sinuous ventures into canyons no longer offered relief from the intense rays. We continued weaving in and out, up and down, through landscapes that were either ravaged by recent fire or came very close to it. We stopped for a foot break around 11. Two women from Portland, OR, checked in on us, and recommended the use of antiperspirant on feet to thwart blisters - a preventative measure we had not yet tried. Shortly thereafter, two women (Tracy and Ingrid, who had been trailing us for some time) asked if we had seen the enormous rattlesnake less than a quarter mile back. Sadly for me, and at the great relief/consternation of Erin, we had not seen the snake. Ingrid produced a photo of a very healthy western diamondback rattlesnake, less than 1 meter from the uphill side of the trail. I was half-tempted to go back and look for it, but thankfully that bit of common sense had not been cooked out of my skull.

After an arduous journey across the San Felipe Hills under the rising and warming sun, we dragged into 3rd gate at 1, found some shade, and napped the day away after watching a couple of episodes of Arrested Development on the ol' iPhone. I threw my sleeping pad down on what turned out to be a cactus graveyard, as spine after spine poked through and reminded me of my poor nap site choice and my superb mattress choice (vs. the inflatable, $135 Neo-Air).

The formidable 3rd gate water cache, stocked by the local trail angels. 

 
Erin steeled herself into another stab at hiking in the evening, fueled by the enticing prospect of taking a zero day at Barrel Springs. I walked down to the sizable water cache by a jeep road and marveled at the dedication and heart of the Trail Angels who keep these caches going. There were no fewer than 200 gallons of fresh water there, stocked, in the middle of the desert. I took enough to get us to Barrel Springs, 3 liters/person, and headed back to get ready for the next half of the hike. We packed up, and somehow I managed to misplace one of my gaiters. There really is nothing more vexing than losing something you know you walked up with, took off, and stashed somewhere for safekeeping. This vexation is exacerbated when you only have approximately 10-20 items to lose. I finally found the wayward gaiter tucked beneath the internal hydration pocket, installed the gaiter, and we were off into the setting sun. Erin shuffled her wounded stumps up the hill for 3.5 miles with speed that I had only seen glimmers of since the first day. We hiked under a full moon and were only disturbed by the occasional Marine helicopter duo passing overhead. After a brief break around the 96 mile mark, Erin's fantastic luck whipped up an observation of a long-nosed snake. I excitedly snapped some photos and allowed the snake to slither off the road so Erin could pass. 

 

We took some tired, obligatory photos at the 100 mile mark and tried to look happy, despite our various physical problems.

Me at mile 100.

Erin again smiles through the pain as another milestone is achieved!

 

At first glimpse, Barrel Springs had more to offer than we had even hoped. The water report said "water, shade, campsites." A guidebook warned of poison oak and ticks - the latter being my least favorite form of multicellular life on this planet. All day and night we were dreaming of what it could be, for better or worse, with nobody to steer us in any particular direction. We were pleasantly surprised to walk into a nice, steep-walled canyon with oak woodland and low scrub understory, and cool spring flowing through a concrete trough. The full moon illuminated enough of the campsite to let us know that we did not make a huge mistake in dedicating a zero day to it the following day, and also let us know that it was a popular spot. No fewer than twelve people had decided to sleep there overnight, and needless to say took the better spots. As discreetly as possible, we hastily pitched the beloved Tarptent in a sandy wash and retired, already taking in the relaxation and much-needed rest of the zero day to come. Oh, and there weren't any ticks.

Coolest critter of the day: easily the long nosed snake.  I've never seen one of these guys before, and the beautiful coloration and mild temperament were truly a pleasure.

Day 6: Rodriguez Springs - San Felipe Hills (mi 68-82)

We had a hasty wakeup before sunrise, and had Erin's blisters dressed in record time. The mistakes made hiking yesterday were not to be repeated today. A team effort at breaking camp yielded a sub-60 minute camp break, foot dressing at all. Despite the promise of cooler temperatures, we planned on avoiding the midday heat by hanging out by the water cache under the bridge at Scissors Crossing (mi 77) before pressing on to the next cache 15 miles north. We broke camp by 6, and passed a woeful Joe who had been woken up by a camelback-platypus water bladder leaking over everything inside his tent. He offered me a toke off of his chillum, and I politely declined in the interest of getting to Scissors ASAP. I steripenned a liter of water for Erin and I to chug before hitting the trail, and then we were off. We made good time: Erin's spirits were high, the sun was rising on the desert, and Erin's feet were in good repair.

A desert sunrise leaving Rodriguez Cross. 

 

We passed through the shady northern slope of Granite Mountain in the cool, dry morning air. 

Erin traversing the hillside north of Granite Mountain under the rising sun. 

 

We leapfrogged with The Hons for a spell, as various breaks overlapped with the other group walking. Ol' 'eagle eyes' Wiley spotted a nice and fat horned lizard (Phyrnosoma platyrhynos) scoot from the trail to the cover of a bush, while I spotted a cactus wren nest and Cassin's kingbird along the way.

A horned lizard hid in the brush after scurrying off the trail. 

A cactus wren nest on the side of the trail.

 

 

 After spending some time birdwatching and pointing it out to The Hons, I ran a ways to catch up with Erin, who was speedily contouring across the landscape - later, my knee-in-repair let me know that I had made a poor decision. We walked through some intact lands with beautiful cactus blooms of pink, yellow, white and green, and we walked through some fire-scarred habitat with nothing save boulder fields and bibilcal amounts of grasshoppers (not sure what they were eating). We crossed the desert floor and arrived at the Scissors Crossing bridge water cache around 10. 

Looking back at Granite Mountain as we closed in on Scissors Crossing. 

An excited Erin hurries on sore feet to the shelter and water cache under the bridge at Scissors. 
 
 

We passed the day there with some former PCTers, this class' PCTers, and even met the famed Yogi by chance, as she and Worldwide came to visit us denizens under the bridge. 

Passing time under the bridge.

 

It was windy, and the fine alluvial soil blew into and onto everything. Several hikers went into Julian for free pie and sandwich from Mom's, where your thru-hiker permit comped the delicious items. Erin and I opted out, as we had a ton of food to eat before Warner Springs. We made a delicious lunch of stroganoff instead, and tried to hide a good amount of our Nido brand powdered milk (which we sent ourselves a lot of) in the mix. Two of the three Germans who started out with us stopped by, two southbound alums Detour and Charge arrived shortly after us, Joe arrived with his gear dried, Ronin walked in, we met Ben and Jamie from Salt Lake City (Jamie beat us soundly in a round of Yahtzee), and Joe and Nancy stopped under after a long trip to Julian.

Despite a lack of improvement in foot condition, Erin was in great spirits after the walk into the cache and the day spent meeting our fellow adventurers, and we set out again around 5 to make our way to the next camp (rather than spend the night in the dusty wind tunnel under the bridge, which we later found out was lousy with coyotes at night). 

A box of scissors just north of the Scissors Crossing.

A cactus lodged in my foot after blowing onto the trail in the high winds. 

 

 

The trail switch backed up the south face of the San Felipe Hills without any manner of shade, then contoured along towards the 3rd gate water cache. I managed to kick a portion of cactus that had blown onto the trail and found its way through my shoe. Bummer. 'Eagle eyes' Wiley was on fire today, and observed a RV pull up at the bridge about 45 minutes after we left. The only logical conclusion is that the RV was showing up to deliver more trail magic, which we were too late for. After five miles of weaving in and out of deeply hewn desert canyons, the sun started to set and we were hungry. 

A look back at Granite Mountain and Rodriguez Cross from the San Felipe Hills. 

An inhospitable landscape, even by cactus standards. 

 

 

We made camp 5 miles in at a saddle in a burned section of landscape. A hot dinner of mashed potatoes (eaten from the comfort of the tent, which breaks one of my usual rules) rounded out the day. We fell asleep, warm and full, to the occasional scuff and clack of hikers' boots and poles as they made their way north towards the 3rd gate cache in the cool of night. 

 

Coolest critters: The Cassin's kingbirds that I observed on the north slope of Granite Mountain were the first that I'd seen, and were a definite bonus. I always enjoy seeing horned lizards, and was grateful that Erin was reveling in their obese and hilarious antics. I'd also lump the cactus wren nest in this group too, though sadly I did not see the largest and most-oddball member of the wren family attending to it. 

Day 5: boulder fields - Rodriguez spring (miles 56-68)

We finally had an early wakeup, but a lazy camp-break and about an hour of blister care put us on the trail at 8. We made good progress the first hour, but by 9 it was already 85 degrees. My pack was not feeling any better, and I couldnt help but regret removing the frame sheet from the pack (not that it fit any better with it in, I keep having to remind myself). We arrived at the first water stop around 945, and regrouped with Nancy & Joe, and Marshall, and met another young fellow named Ronin. After topping off, we began our long slog more or less downhill to Rodrigruez spring, an oasis on the brink of a nasty dry valley. It was hot. The sun beat down on us with a great intensity, and there was no vegetation higher than my waist for miles. 

Erin descending the chariot trail in the hot sun.

I managed to find a shrubto take shape under the bottom of the chariot trail, but it was the week after that.

 

 

An early start would have been nice. Erin's condition deteriorated rapidly around one, which I determined to be the onset of sun stroke. We found a brief spot of shade, cooled off for a minute and listened to the ballgame, and kept on. I was not convinced that the heat illness passed, so we took an hour at the next overhanging manzanita. Rambling Rich stopped by for a spell and we talked baseball, amongst other things. He was an easygoing and nice guy all around. We decided that it was time to go, and while doctoring up Erin's feet, Atlas strolled up behind us and started a conversation. A jovial and chatty man, he was full of advice as a previous AT thru-hiker and PCT section hiker. We carried on the last 3.5 miles to camp in a most miserable fashion, which included startling a large rattlesnake off the uphill side of the trail. Erin just about shat herself, and I quickly peered into the chaparral to steal an assessing glance at the serpent, but to no avail. Based on the timbre and volume of the rattle, it was a big one. We continued hiking through the oven-like conditions at a very determined pace (=not fast), eventually catching up w Atlas, who introduced me to a motto for endangered species that I hadn't heard before ("shoot, shovel, and shut up"), and also told us of the lousier conditions that lay ahead of Rodriguez Cross. We got into camp, Erin plopped down, and I set about the area to see what other folk had decided to stop here. After Erin and I got water and talked with Rambling Rich, Atlas, and the Hons, we decided on an early departure for Scissors Crossing, 9 mi north, and a long midday break under the bridge, then picking back up and heading along the exposed, southern aspect of the San Felipe hills 14 miles until the next water supply. I fixed up Erin's poor feet, then made camp and a quick dinner of knorr's rice with tuna with the common poor-wills and coyotes announcing their presence in the hills we just hiked down. A pesky cricket, which I misidentified as a small Jerusalem cricket, caused Erin some alarm as we ate dinner, as she claimed that she already had enough problems. I didn't disagree. 

 

Coolest critters: an unknown thrasher near the pioneer trail head, and gaining the knowledge from Rambling Rich that wrentits were abundant and calling in the area all day. I was also glad to ID the common poor-wills.

Day 4: Mt Lagunita to De Anza-Borrego boulder fields. (Mi 42.6-56.0)

As dawn broke over the Salton Sea 6,000 feet below us and several miles to the east, Erin and I hastily moved all our gear from our bootleg campsite to a nearby picnic table to pretend that we had not just spent the night there. 

Cramped quarters with gear and the resupply at the foot of the tent. 

 

We packed up our resupply for the next 6 days until Warner Springs, then made our way into town for a much-needed visit to the bathroom. I went to outfitter Doug and purchased a new Therm-a-rest Z-lite shorty foam mattress, after realizing last night that my gossamer gear 1/8"-thick pad was not doing the trick. I proudly restrained from the $135 neo-air, knowing full well that I'd pop it within a week. We started hiking back to the trailhead when Lo, Magic Man appeared and shuttled us the rest of the way. The first two miles veritably flew by. The modification I made to my load leveling straps was making my load more bearable, but the pack still didn't fit right.

Load lifting straps sewn in place to correct slipping. 

My pack was blowing out at the bottom seams along the back less than a week into the trip. 

Erin and I stopped at an overlook north of Mt. Laguna.  

Erin on the rim Trail north of Mount Laguna.
 
 

 The temperature increased, and Erin's mood diminished. Hiking through the fire-scarred landscape provided minimal shade. She was also  disheartened by the fact that her new insoles weren't a fix-all for her foot pain,  and the extra weight in the pack from the resupply made her even more uncomfortable. However, the horned lizards found the landscape quite hospitable: we saw a few of the fat little critters scurry out of our way. 

 

 After a quick lunch at a shaded roadside lookout, where we met briefly with Kit and MRshall, we left Mt. Laguna proper and began an exposed section through a fire scarred landscape that was just beginning to recover. The manzanita was low, the sun intense, and the girlfriend displeased. I leant her my headphones in an attempt to cheer her up and give her some motivation.  It worked, thankfully. We rested some while at a picnic site and caught up with some of the regulars from the trail. Some loudmouth showed up, and we made haste to leave. We headed north into the beautiful Anza-Borrego desert, and made camp after a sinuous 4-mile stretch along the eastern flank of the Laguna range. 

 

The campsite was in an ethereal granite boulder field that was catching the fading light of day when we pitched the tent. The rocky substrate would not accept stakes, so we were grateful that the TT DR had freestanding capabilities.i discovered that some repairs I made on my pack just before leaving weren't holding, so I decided that a new pack at kick-off was in the cards. More repairs might extend its life by a month or so, but with this rugged use and it's rapidly deteriorating condition (not to mention the shitty fit), a new bag is necessary.  A pork fu-Chinese black fungus stroganoff dinner atop a boulder put a wrap on the day. I was grateful to finally be camping as a backpacker should, without roads, picnic tables, barbecues or faucets at the ready (though digging a 6" deep cathole may prove to be difficult). Erin said that this campsite validated all the misery of the day. 

 

Coolest critters of the day: the Phyrnosoma observed along the hike and the rock wren (1st sighting ever) at camp, flitting from boulder to boulder calling and dancing away.