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.
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