Day 50: Walker Pass CG - Owens Peak wilderness (mi 652-656)

A hitching post makes for a great impromptu sock-drying rack. Gotta keep the socks clean to keep the feet happy!

We were headed north of the Domelands Wilderness Area. Nice to see the 'carry water' recommendation.

Nice sunset colors over the southern Sierra Nevadas.

Near0 day, as it turned out. I woke up to turn off alarm and evaluate how we felt @ 5 AM, and promptly snoozed until 7. We arose to eat pancakes (a trail angel staple, we are coming to realise), and after that, it was going to be too hot to hike. We sat around listening to the standard hiker prattling on about typical things for most of the day, too lethargic from the heat to contribute much in the way of conversation. Lunchbox, whom arrived yesterday and wasn't thru-hiking to Canada, decided to skip the remaining 50 miles to Kennedy Meadows and 'yellow blazed' (=hitched/got a ride) with Aloha. The rest of  the Wolfpack trickled in around midday, exhausted and heat-weary. We swapped stories about how horrible the climb after the second cache was, etc. Busted had been hiking alongside the Wolfpack at this point, and Busted had a couple bug bites on her back that looked symptomatic for Lyme's disease. Accordingly, a trip to the medical clinic for Busted was tacked onto t-Rex, rocky, starfox, sour cream & pants on fire's post office run. They took off nearly immediately, and weren't seen for hours. It was a really hot day. Few ventures were made outside the sun protection afforded by the tarps. The Wolfpack made it back and they were pushed, with Rocky near-vomiting on the ride back. We all ate dinner from Yogi and Jackalope, with help from Okie Girl and Coppertone. Smiles and I packed up to leave the the magic around 7:30 as the situation had become slightly tense, plus we knew that we would have a better shot at making it to good water tomorrow before it became too hot if we knocked a few miles out. We climbed up into Owens Peak Wilderness about 1200 feet and jammed along a ridge for three miles before stumbling into camp in the dark around 9. The campsite was promisingly fringed by tall pines, but again we knew we weren't out of the desert yet.

Day 49: Mojave - Walker pass CG (mi 628-652)

As the alarm went off at 4 AM, we did something different: we woke up and hit the road. The second cache, as it was called, was still three miles north, and the next water after that was another 34 miles away (and of dubious quality - the water report said it contained uranium. We strode quickly through the cool pre-dawn air, and I paused only to snap a few pictures of the best part of the desert as the sun rose through the dust-laden air to create brilliant red-orange hues.

A beautiful desert sunrise.

More desert sunrise beauty over the lower side of the range we were about to climb.

Brilliant rose and orange hues on the alabaster sand and grey-flecked granite.

Long dawn shadows today! Almost to the second cache by 6 AM.

We arrived at the second cache at Bird Spring Pass at 6:20 AM. I whipped out the stove to cook up a batch of oatmeal, and heard a beleaguered vehicle struggling to crest the hill on the road behind me. I turned around and saw a 1980's Toyota four-banger pickup truck, piloted by an octogenarian lady. She stopped at the top, got out and moved to the rear of the truck, which she opened to reveal approximately 80-90 gallon bottles of water. A Trail Angel at work. We hopped up and helped transfer the payload to its proper place, profusely thanked her for her generosity, and asked a few questions. How long had she been doing this? Does she always have to unload by herself? Where does she get the water? It turned out that she had been doing the cache for a number of years, and was amazed at the number of hikers this year. She intended to stop, but couldn't sleep at night thinking about what "those poor hikers would do for water." She stocked the cache we used yesterday and this one out of her own well, and got the empty bottles from her neighbour, who did not have good well water. We finished helping her and let her get on her way before the desert heated up, as her truck did not have a functional engine thermostat, and her son had yet to replace it. 

Smiles helps Trail Angel Mary unload water at the legendary second cache.

A welcome sight in a hostile place.

We powered down on some oatmeal and hurried up the 2,500-foot climb directly thereafter. Smiles was saddled with five liters of water, and I with seven. We were racing the shadows and easily noticed a 20-degree increase each time we scooted out of the shadows provided from the peaks above.

Another tease? Montane conifers and granite are sure signs of the Sierra, but we know that more desert lies between us and the rocky heights.

We joyously gained the top of the climb and walked to see a nice, closed canopy of conifers at the topographic bench above the desert floor to the east.

Smiles powers north and breathes a sigh of relief as we finish the long climb before it heats up. The trail stays on the forested plateau to the north, thankfully, for some time.

We made a quick break, where I was able to evaluate the progress on my still-sore calves and persistent blisters and Smiles merely rested her poor feet. We continued on, relatively happy in the dry heat, as the pines kept the sun from beating down on us too badly. We saw an impromptu register on a cow skull, in the middle of nowhere.  I walked slowly and calmly, attempting to only breathe through my nose as a water conservation effort.

A cow's demise becomes an impromptu trail register.

As soon as we lost the closed canopy, we looked for a breaking spot for lunch. We quickly found a good shade spot beneath a scraggly oak and destroyed our last orange while otherwise conserving water.

A most excellent orange, the last of our fresh food, enjoyed at lunch.

Smiles feels similarly about the oranges.

After lunch, we got cooked for the first time of the day and progressed for three seemingly endless miles through a burn area to the edge of the plateau, which brought us into the Owens River drainage and to a view of the Owens Peak wilderness.

Looking north towards Owens Peak wilderness, the last 50 miles until Kennedy Meadows. Slightly more hospitable looking mountains, but we know they too will be dry.

Smiles jams down towards Walker Pass on a long descent that curved around several mountains.

At some point, we became concerned that the trail magic rumored to be at Walker Pass would be done for the day by the time we arrived, so I scooted ahead of Smiles to run down and secure a soda or two, if the trail magic was indeed coming to fruition.

As close as I was getting to a self-portrait as I ran ahead to secure potential trail magic at Walker Pass.

Made it, and trail magic abounded! Campsite at Walker Pass.

The trail magic was happening. Ho yes, I rounded a corner, saw some tents, inspected with my binoculars and saw an entire setup. I tore off at a fast jog over the last mile and a half, still toting about four liters of water. I arrived and saw that these trail angels were in it for the long haul - there was no time concern. Yogi and Jackalope had quite the setup, and Bear Bait (Jackalope's son) went to the cooler and fetched me a cold Budweiser. Man, that was a great beer. Smiles followed shortly thereafter, and a spaghetti dinner was served. Needless to say we did not continue on that night, which left us about four miles short of our goal for the day, but there were no complaints. We figured we would leave after an early pancake breakfast the following day. Cold drinks and plentiful, hot food are strong motivators.

A complete surprise, and very welcome. Yogi and Jackalope's trail magic at Walker Pass put a quick damper on any urge to press on.

Trail veterans fly their flags at the trail magic.

The usual assortment of gear at the magic.

Day 48: Landers camp - middle of high Mojave desert south of birdspringpass (mi 609- 628)

Smiles lounging in camp before the day's hike. Ignorance is bliss.

We awoke in the pine forest, next to a spring and a mountain meadow, with no idea what the day had in store for us. Looking at the elevation profile, it didn't seem too difficult. Water was scarce, but it had been throughout the desert, and the caches were well-stocked. As we cruised along the relatively flat topography and descended east off the crest, the pine trees grew shorter and more brutish, and eventually disappeared. The temperature increased violently by 10 o'clock, and my new invention of the '5-watt umbrella' (I lashed my charger to the umbrella to provide optimum charging) received great use. We saw a beautiful specimen of long-nosed leopard lizard, a sure sign we were in the desert again. 

A long- nosed leopard lizard (Gambelia wislizenii) pauses for a portrait during its morning forage.

We made it to the first cache around 10:45, and proceeded to spend most of the rest of the day in the shabby shade of the lone Joshua tree. Viking was already there, and we discussed our plans to get to the Sierras. He was convinced that there was "no shadow(=shade)" for miles, and was determined to go fast and light to get to Kennedy Meadows in 3 days. As he discussed his plan and tried to get us on board, he also mentioned that he was going to ditch some food to cut down on weight. He volunteered it to us, and we accepted, as it meant we also had a shot at making it to Kennedy Meadows without having to resupply in town at Onyx in a couple days. Logistics done, we got to the meat of the day, which was huddling and waiting. Soon after, the rest of the Wolfpack arrived and crowded into the 'shadow.' Happy Hour and Squeaks joined in what passed for the last of the shade, as we strung up tarps and umbrellas in the tree to augment the minimal natural shade. Around one, we saw a woman, her mother, and their dog pile out of a minivan, help themselves to about 10 liters of cache water, and attempt to start out. The younger woman turtled due to the water weight she was carrying, so she poured out 3 liters of cache water (yes, that's right) on the ground. We all sat, aghast, not sure what to make of the situation. This was not a well-known trailhead, and was a very hostile landscape. They obviously knew enough to locate the trailhead AND to rely on the cache, which PCT thru-hikers generally needed to survive, but were seemingly oblivious to the desert conditions, as they struck out in the middle of the day while no fewer than 12 experienced hikers did the exact opposite, huddling in the shade, about 60 feet away. We discussed whether we should do, or say, anything to them as we pondered their skill, knowledge and intentions and eventually determined that they must know what they were getting into.

Clockwise from upper left, Squeaks, Happy Hour, Viking, Lunchbox, Smiles, Sour Cream, Rocky, Chik-chak, and Starfox huddle beneath the meager shade during the heat of the day.

Rocky took a group shot of everyone, though they are still doing the same as before. Viking was somehow not smoking a cigarette.

We struck out at 3:45 PM,  convinced that at least it wasn't going to get any hotter, as we had some miles to make up after the protracted midday break. The landscape ahead did not look inviting. In fact, it was amongst the most hostile we had seen on the trip, and did not appear to have any promise of ending soon.

A most hostile landscape to look forward to after lunch, at 4 PM, when it was still easily 105 degrees.

It was still over 100 degrees, and the sun melted one of the USB cords I needed for my battery charger. Great. We pressed on, and within a mile and a half we found the older woman who set out four hours earlier. She was suffering from heat illness, still sitting in the sun, and Smiles and I convinced her to lay down in the shade and not attempt moving until it cooled off significantly. The woman also said that her hydration bladder was leaking - a poor development for the desert. We attempted to give her water, but she maintained she had enough, and that we should tell her daughter of her location and disposition. We climbed up, remarking how hot it still was, as both of us had donned our reflective umbrellas.

Smiles uses her chrome dome to shield the desert sun.

We encountered the older woman's daughter and dog after the hour-long climb and told her that her mom was suffering from heat illness and appeared to be in poor condition to continue. The younger woman seemed relatively nonplussed by the news, and we asked whether she had Halfmile's water report. Alarmingly, she was also nonplussed by the fact that such a document existed, as it was quite literally our lifeline. We passed on the information provided by the water report and pressed on, hoping that they/she would make the right decision to turn back and choose a more enjoyable backpacking trip rather than die in the desert. Later, we found that the rest of the Wolfpack had similar encounters, with Lighthouse and Starfox exhorting the younger woman to turn back and not kill her poor mother.

Finally back to a civilized temperature, below 100 degrees, around 6:45 in the evening, Smiles and I made good headway for the first time all day. More desert mountains lie ahead.

After 6:30, it perceptibly began to cool off, and we kicked it up a notch. The rest of the Wolfpack camped soon after, as they had a longer hike than us in the morning. The sunset was long, beautiful and filled with the rosy hues one dreams of for desert sunsets.

Why is she smiling? Because it cooled down to 70. Smiles at sunset in the hills of the Mojave desert, approximately 20 miles southwest of Ridgecrest.

Dr. Slosh in the desert sunset, still looking for elusive tortoises in the late part of the high season.

Smiles stands next to an impressively large Joshua tree.

We burned a few more miles in the dark, cool environment and made a quick camp four miles south of the second cache, boiling a nice ramen for dinner and retiring to bed with a few episodes of Arrested Development on my iPhone, ready for a long, hot day tomorrow and a quick pre-dawn wakeup.

Day 47: burnt windfarm forest - Landers camp (mi 586-609)

A horned toad lay in the path and pretended to be some gravel. Lucky for him, I saw him before putting my foot down.

The first '600' indicator, notably not at mile 600.

Smiles at the real mile 600.

Dr. Slosh again keeps it gangsta, another 100 miles north.

Hit 600 today. Finally starting to feel really good about this. Remembered back the last 7 days and 130 miles ago,  a desert crossing away. Difficult though those days were, we had a really good day of hiking today. Part planning and part luck, once the temperature kicked up around 9:45 we were hiking in the canopies of oak and pine woodland for the most part during the heat of the day, when we were stuck with a long, hot and exposed fire road climb within 4 miles of the spring, which was to be our first water stop of the day, about 20 miles from the last mile. All things considered, it was a pretty splendid day. I saw a different species of horned lizard, and even got to pet one. They seem to be more obese, more disc-shaped, and lazier overall than their nearby desert congeners. We  sat at a beautiful babbling piped spring with Boulder, Scooter and Viking and idly chatted as water boiled for our mashed potato lunch. Once the sun found us from behind a shadow, we decided to press on to the next water source, a spring in 7 miles. We started hiking at 5 pm, and it was still hot. I'd say mid-80's. we briefly reunited with t-Rex, rocky ad sour cream, who started 4 miles back of us and had not been so fortunate with temperatures. Thirsty and tired as they were, we kept it brief to allow them to recover (they spent 6 hours under the hwy 58 in a culvert, then climbed to the spring by night. not a lot of sleep, to boot). The 7mile stretch from robin bird spring to laurel spring were relatively flat, while carving in and out of the stands of pine. The campsite is nice, and deserted. We park our sore, sated and hungry selves in some pine duff near the sprig, take care of the evening chores, eat a delicious pasta-Roni Alfredo with chicken heavily fortified with olive oil (210 cal/oz) and lie down a bit after hiker midnight. The next day will be the last easy water day until the sierras. It is hard to believe, that the desert is almost over. I will remember it fondly, in ways, as it was a relatively new environment, and I learned a lot about the communities. The desert was beautiful, when not burnt, and very Rarely in the heat of the day. It was not easy, but it isn't supposed to be. It can embody the spirit of my alpine mantra (you dont have to be having fun to be having fun).  I am looking forward to the end of the desert, but for some reason I feel a touch guilty for saying so. Of course, it's a cool 48 degrees outside now. Ask me again once the thermometer breaks 85 degrees...

Day 46: Hwy 58- Golden Oaks spring, plus a few more miles (mi 567-587)

Smiles chokes down some of Dr. Slosh's homebrewed super energy electrolyte solution.

A stark and foreboding landscape. Looking down at a chasm following the first portion of the first climb of the day.

Finally starting to see the Sierra Nevada batholith exposed: a layered, wedding-cake like peak near an old wind farm past Golden Oak springs at sunset.

Always at work, Smiles hikes on into the night after we tanked up on water at Golden Oak springs.

Hot as ever today. A cool morning breeze coaxed us out of our sleeping bags at 6:30 (an hour and a half after we intended to rise), but it was too late. Within 5 minutes of walking, we were on the eastern slope of the mountains facing the Mojave desert, and the sun had been beating on the hillside mercilessly for some hours at that point. The heat radiated off the white sands and through the air without the benefit of any cooling breezes. We climbed 2,400 totally exposed vertical feet, then were rewarded with a 6-mile jaunt on a dusty, exposed jeep/ATV trail. Along the way we passed Seeker, whom had run out of water. We spared a liter for him, as we still had at least 7 miles ourselves until the next water at Golden Oak spring. It was among the hottest days on the trail, and by far the slowest hiking. It took us 8 solid hours to reach the spring only 15 miles from the campsite. I had downloaded the audio version of the latest issue of The Economist on my phone and listened to it throughout the hike, but vowed to never do so again. The droning brits in my headphones only made the time seem to go slower. Once at the spring, a dribbling piped oasis offering shade and water, we complained about the heat with Buff, Boulder, Scooter, Sunrise, Dance Party and Viking. Guy on a Buffalo hiked in a whole, mixed berry pie from Tehachapi, which he generously shared with us. I wish I took a few photos of the pie and the whole general setup at the spring, but I have found that if it is too hot and miserable, I simply neglect to take photos. At 7 we decided to hike more, to chip into the 19 miles until the next water. We made it about 4 miles until the sun went down, and made haste to find a campsite that was not in the middle of a recent burn. After a brief stint, we did find a flattish spot in an area protected from the burn, surrounded by oak and low chaparral. A quick mouthful of beef jerky for dinner in the sleeping bag, a quick brushing-away of the solfugids investigating my sleeping pad, and we were done. 

Day 45: Mojave-hwy 58 canyon (mi 566-567)

Mojave is a brutish town, and we successfully neroed. We took care of our ever-present chores of resupplying and mailing items from the post office. I picked up more vitamins, some magnesium supplements, and some probiotics to help my ailing calves and insides, respectively. We hung around the meager lobby of the motel for the rest of the day, the owner of which was visibly off-put by our continued presence. We finished our chores and evacuated the motel to one of the two restaurants in town, the mexican-american-pizza joint we hit up the night before. Doug, who gave us a ride into town, gave us a ride back up, with his wife Sandy accompanying. Rather than us hiking the extremely uninteresting, windswept and cow-ridden 8 miles between Tehachapi-willow springs road and highway 58, they drove us along the canyon road and chatted with us. Far more civilized. Besides, my calf was still on the fritz and I wanted to give it a bit more rest. We hiked one foul, smelly mile along the north side of hwy 58 and quickly made camp off trail. Several curious (presumably) rednecks spotlighted us from the highway, no doubt scoffing at the small size of our headlamps. 

Day 44: Tylerhorse canyon - Mojave via Tehachapi-Willow Springs Road(mi 541-559)

Duct tape caps were added to Smiles' shoes to occlude the sand that seemed to pour in the gaping holes I carved the day before. 

A grind of a day, to be sure. Sleeping out next to the creek in Tylerhorse canyon may have been preferable to setting up the tent in the strong breeze, but that did not necessarily mean it was a good night sleep. The last night of the 3-day wind storm was not kind: we were pelted with sand of various sizes at various double-digit velocities all night long, and the wind blew down through the cinched-up mummy openings and past the internal draft collars of our sleeping bags to cool us off from time to time. My feet throbbed all night, as I was unable to remove my blister dressings out of the next days' necessity. I could feel my pulse beating in each constrained blister aching for a breath of fresh air, but since I lost all the blister dressings, well I had nobody to blame but myself for that one. 

Smiles once again received poor sleep, while I was able to snooze through the maelstrom easily, only having to wake up to shed clothing inside my too-warm sleeping bag. We wearily crawled out of our cocoons at 4:30 am to start our hike to town, to Mojave, some 17 miles distant. The early departure was to allow maximum time in the hotel and to beat the heat we knew was coming (since the westerly winds had died). Smiles shambled up the trail while I finished packing up, fairy confident that I would catch up slowly. After I stood up and could barely move either ankle on account of stiff calves, I knew a speedy catch-up was false. I hobbled up the trail in the warm pre-dawn air, cursing the various potential causes to the calf cramp/stiffness that was hindering my progress. Not enough electrolytes, too much water, not enough vitamins, too much beer at Casa de Luna, not enough stretching, too much stretching, not enough food... nothing was safe from my baleful minds' eye. Off in the distance, canyon wrens greeted the sun as the warm orange and purple hues spread across the desert. Already more hospitable to life than the wind-swept plain we marched across yesterday, I told myself. The mountains of sand bore signs of the winds the night before: streaks from where branches whipped to and fro across the surface, concentric circles where tattered grasses spun around on the ground around a central point, and ridges of sand from the blasting wind. Eventually my calves loosened after a long mile, but every stop of any length allowed them to become taut again. The pain never really went away, but it was manageable. After all, it was only 16 miles to town at that point. We climbed, descended and climbed some more. The 'speed holes' I had punched in the toe boxes of Smiles' too-small shoes the day before now became one-way doors for sand into her shoes, so impromptu duct tape shoe covers were fashioned. They moderately staunched the flow of sand into her shoes. After a solid 1,500 foot climb, we came upon a cache complete with water and armchairs of the lawn and folding variety. Pants on Fire and Seminole were there, relaxing, and team Tingo was packing up to hit the trail again. We took a hasty break and filled up with enough water to get us to the road, signed the register, and got back on the trail before 9 am with 10 miles to go. We charged for 3.5 of those miles, then both of us took fairly rapid declines in capabilities. Smiles' feet were in tremendous pain from getting rammed in the front of her shoes on every downhill step. Both of my calves had cramped up to the point where each step felt like my muscles were velcroed together. The blisters peppering my feet went unnoticed in light of the calf/ankle problems. Nothing was working, and after contemplating crawling the last three miles downhill, next to yet another wind farm, I greedily chewed up half of a narcotic painkiller to facilitate the immediate need of walking successfully. I stowed my poles and started charging down the hill at a good clip, wanting to be 100% sure I was done walking once the painkiller wore off since I was surely destroying myself more in the process. Whatever, I thought, there will be electrolytes, hot water, rest and other such remedies in town. I signed us into the Oak Creek register("I need electrolytes"- Dr. slosh; "I need new shoes" - smiles; "I just want my kids back" - Tom Jane), and left a pleading note for someone to return our beloved first aid (=blister care) kit. Smiles quickly joined, then we walked up to hitch. A trail angel by the names of Coppertone/A Natural Hiker was giving trail magic root beer floats, which were the only thing that made today a not-horrible day. A trail angel named Doug gave us a ride to the Mojave Days Inn, which had a great shower and great bed. It was also about 150 meters from a very active railyard, which was curiously not mentioned in the guidebook we were using, considering that the train traffic in the alternate trail town of Tehachapi was specifically listed as a negative. Very curious, and another example of the "very opinionated, and frequently wrong" writing style, so sayeth Lunchbox. Two dinners later, I was asleep soundly without any Law & Order. Smiles followed me in slumber shortly thereafter.