A fine day for herping. I had observed arroyo toad and Pseudacris cadaverina before bed, then woke up to spiny lizards, side blotched, more treefrogs, bullfrogs (sadly), whiptails, a garter snake, southwest pacific rattlers, and a sidewinder before 10. It was a hot day with calm winds, which definitely explained the abundance of reptiles.
The efforts of the day before and the late night in the hot spring left us far from keen on rousing at first light. After all, we had nowhere in particular to be, and it was supposed to be a cool day. I gathered my things while Smiles tended to her blisters, then casually examined the guidebook pages. On this wednesday morning, she noticed that though the post office in Wrightwood, some 60+ miles away, was open on saturday, but not for outgoing mail as we had counted on. Our bounce box was there, and if we didn't make it there to send back out by 5 PM on Friday evening, we'd be stuck 'till Monday morning. Not good - as much as we love trail towns, they are vortices for cash moneys and ambitions. At long last, we had a goal placed on our doorstep, and it was us to see if we could rise to the challenge. We had planned on relaxing our pace after back-to-back 20+ mile days leaving big bear, but to meet the goal we would have to average 20+ miles per day until we got there. After this, we gathered our things as quickly as possible and set out. I observed a different coloration of velvet ant (actually a wingless terrestrial wasp) that I had not seen before almost right off the bat:
The next wildlife sighting came shortly thereafter, with Smiles observing a juvenile southern pacific rattlesnake (Crotalus oreganus helleri) alongside the trail. I shooed it away and took the lead to make sure there were no more snakes on the trail to terrify my ophidiophobic girlfriend.
It turned out to be beneficial, as I observed a sizeable adult rattlesnake coiled next to a retaining wall. The snake was still chilly from the night, and was rather reluctant to move. I stomped my feet and eventually it stretched out and slowly slid up the wall and into the brush.
I turned around and hailed that it was OK for Smiles to pass, only to turn around and retract my affirmation upon the sight of a light-morph SW pacific rattlesnake right behind me:
This snake was a touch smaller, and warmer, than its neighbor. It was trying to get up the retaining wall but wasn't long enough. The snake kept coming towards me, slowly, while I stamped my feet and tapped my hiking pole on the ground to dissuade it. Eventually, it turned around and found a low spot in the wall to climb. It resumed its course towards me once it got on top of the wall and then finally settled in a bush right next to the trail. Neither snake rattled or displayed any signs of aggravation, so I finally was able to hail Smiles forward. It was truly remarkable how well-camoflauged the snakes were. I literally watched both snakes crawl into a bush, then melt with their background to the point that they were barely visible when I knew exactly where they were.
We continued on our way to exit the gaping mouth of Deep Creek canyon, with local kids (presumably cutting high school) passing us on the way to a swimming hole upstream. A scorching descent to the canyon floor brought us past the scenic Mojave River dam, which may be one of the more pointless public works projects the Bureau of Reclamation (I think) undertook. The river and reservoir are dry, most years, leaving a monolithic pile of stone and concrete to sit and befoul the landscape. At this point, it was really hot. We arrived at the Deep Creek ford at 11 AM, and that is where we stayed for the next four and a half hours. I promptly discarded all clothes save my boxers, picked up my sunbrella, and plopped myself in the deepest part of the creek (maybe 1.5 feet deep) for the next 90 minutes. Others soon followed suit, though most were still wearing more clothing than I. I wish I had a picture, but the heat fried my brain. Vertigo has a picture somewhere, of five or six hikertrash-types huddling in a desert stream beneath their chrome umbrellas. Team Tingo, Smiles, Vertigo and I all shared in conversation regarding how off-guard the heat caught us that day and how reluctant we were to head off into it.
After preparing a hot, sun-addled lunch beneath our umbrellas on the broiling-hot sand we napped the heat away. I woke up at 3:30 PM to Smiles pointing out a parasitioid wasp dragging paralyzed caterpillar (see previous life history explanation on tarantula hawks from Day 13 or 14 for details) through our lunch area. I tried to get a good picture, but she was on a mission and never stopped:
We begrudgingly packed up our stuff to continue our slog through the desert. We arrived at a cache within a mile, but it was also still insanely hot. We saw a vehicle leaving from the cache at a distance of a few hundred feet out, which we later learned was root beer float trail magic. Sad for us, but we did not know it at the time. The water itself was a good enough find. I was very glad to have water that did not require zapping with my Steripen, as the lithium batteries it used cost ~ $13 per pair and are only good for 50 L (definitely not something they advertise...). As we hiked through the cooling evening, I turned on the antennae of my phone and received a semi-distressed text from my buddy Sommerau back at home, indicating that the Giants were doing quite poorly on the road. We chatted for a bit as I stood like a dinosaur trying to sun itself, though I was sunning my solar panels rather than my body. Later, a desert patch-nosed snake (Salvadora hexalepis hexalepis) scooted off the trail in front of me. It looked racer-ish, but also non-racer-ish, so I had to wait on my classification until better internet access was available. Anyhow, a very fast and cool snake (center frame):
We pressed on through sunset, and even contemplated hiking directly out to the McDonald's at Cajon Pass ( still 20+ miles ahead at this point). Running Commentary and Haggis overheard our contemplation from the confines of their tent tucked into the brush as we jammed by, then stopped to chat briefly. The most interesting things about our post-sundown hike were a western toad (Anaxyrus boreas halophilus) from the edge of its range, and some trail magic below the dam for Silverwood Lake. We made camp around 11 PM in a wide spot of the trail at mile 325 right next to Silverwood Lake, with ambitions of an early wakeup to beat the heat on the way to Cajon Pass the next day.
It turned out to be beneficial, as I observed a sizeable adult rattlesnake coiled next to a retaining wall. The snake was still chilly from the night, and was rather reluctant to move. I stomped my feet and eventually it stretched out and slowly slid up the wall and into the brush.
I turned around and hailed that it was OK for Smiles to pass, only to turn around and retract my affirmation upon the sight of a light-morph SW pacific rattlesnake right behind me:
This snake was a touch smaller, and warmer, than its neighbor. It was trying to get up the retaining wall but wasn't long enough. The snake kept coming towards me, slowly, while I stamped my feet and tapped my hiking pole on the ground to dissuade it. Eventually, it turned around and found a low spot in the wall to climb. It resumed its course towards me once it got on top of the wall and then finally settled in a bush right next to the trail. Neither snake rattled or displayed any signs of aggravation, so I finally was able to hail Smiles forward. It was truly remarkable how well-camoflauged the snakes were. I literally watched both snakes crawl into a bush, then melt with their background to the point that they were barely visible when I knew exactly where they were.
We continued on our way to exit the gaping mouth of Deep Creek canyon, with local kids (presumably cutting high school) passing us on the way to a swimming hole upstream. A scorching descent to the canyon floor brought us past the scenic Mojave River dam, which may be one of the more pointless public works projects the Bureau of Reclamation (I think) undertook. The river and reservoir are dry, most years, leaving a monolithic pile of stone and concrete to sit and befoul the landscape. At this point, it was really hot. We arrived at the Deep Creek ford at 11 AM, and that is where we stayed for the next four and a half hours. I promptly discarded all clothes save my boxers, picked up my sunbrella, and plopped myself in the deepest part of the creek (maybe 1.5 feet deep) for the next 90 minutes. Others soon followed suit, though most were still wearing more clothing than I. I wish I had a picture, but the heat fried my brain. Vertigo has a picture somewhere, of five or six hikertrash-types huddling in a desert stream beneath their chrome umbrellas. Team Tingo, Smiles, Vertigo and I all shared in conversation regarding how off-guard the heat caught us that day and how reluctant we were to head off into it.
After preparing a hot, sun-addled lunch beneath our umbrellas on the broiling-hot sand we napped the heat away. I woke up at 3:30 PM to Smiles pointing out a parasitioid wasp dragging paralyzed caterpillar (see previous life history explanation on tarantula hawks from Day 13 or 14 for details) through our lunch area. I tried to get a good picture, but she was on a mission and never stopped:
We begrudgingly packed up our stuff to continue our slog through the desert. We arrived at a cache within a mile, but it was also still insanely hot. We saw a vehicle leaving from the cache at a distance of a few hundred feet out, which we later learned was root beer float trail magic. Sad for us, but we did not know it at the time. The water itself was a good enough find. I was very glad to have water that did not require zapping with my Steripen, as the lithium batteries it used cost ~ $13 per pair and are only good for 50 L (definitely not something they advertise...). As we hiked through the cooling evening, I turned on the antennae of my phone and received a semi-distressed text from my buddy Sommerau back at home, indicating that the Giants were doing quite poorly on the road. We chatted for a bit as I stood like a dinosaur trying to sun itself, though I was sunning my solar panels rather than my body. Later, a desert patch-nosed snake (Salvadora hexalepis hexalepis) scooted off the trail in front of me. It looked racer-ish, but also non-racer-ish, so I had to wait on my classification until better internet access was available. Anyhow, a very fast and cool snake (center frame):
We pressed on through sunset, and even contemplated hiking directly out to the McDonald's at Cajon Pass ( still 20+ miles ahead at this point). Running Commentary and Haggis overheard our contemplation from the confines of their tent tucked into the brush as we jammed by, then stopped to chat briefly. The most interesting things about our post-sundown hike were a western toad (Anaxyrus boreas halophilus) from the edge of its range, and some trail magic below the dam for Silverwood Lake. We made camp around 11 PM in a wide spot of the trail at mile 325 right next to Silverwood Lake, with ambitions of an early wakeup to beat the heat on the way to Cajon Pass the next day.
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