A Well-Fed Hiker is a Happy Hiker

Well, I am going to attempt to get an entry in before passing out from a "food coma" in Big Bear Lake.  I pulled into the Big Bear Hostel early this morning after catching a ride with another hiker from State Highway 18 (PCT Mile 265), and just finished a "Hiker Feast" cooked by a trail angel that has been moving from one town to the next.

I was surprised that I needed two days off at Warner Springs after just four days on the trail, but the break ended up doing wonders.  Instead of leaving (or should I say "limping"?) Warner Springs in the pouring rain, I was able to head out in just a moderate drizzle feeling so much stronger than the day before.  The extra day off also put me a day behind a nasty weather system that sweeped through the San Jacinctos Mountains.  Rather than being caught up at 8,000 feet with a fresh dusting of snow, I was able to walk through the "Mini Sierras" in sunshine and mostly clear trail.  What little snow I did hit was left-over snowpack from the winter on the north-facing slopes.  There wasn't anything seriously dangerous (i.e., snow on exposed slopes/cliffs where you'd fall off the mountain if you fell), but there were definitely a few spots on Fuller Ridge where I had to kick steps going downhill to keep from slipping (a twisted ankle still wouldn't bode well for the rest of my trip).

So far, the section through the San Jacinctos has been my favorite of the whole trip.  To start with, I lucked out by coming across a water cache left by some unnamed trail angels where the PCT crosses the Palms-to-Pines Highway; this saved me making a two-mile detour before starting the initial climb up into the mountains.  Once making it to the ridgeline, I was treated to terrain and scenery that really was reminiscent of the Sierras (I haven’t braved them with a pack and ice-axe yet, but I’ve done plenty of trail running there over the years).  I also lucked out with running into a great string of hikers to talk with.  The first one was an engineering consultant from the Bay Area who had done the AT last year and was full of good advice with regards to gear and managing unusual trail conditions.  With respect to gear, he seconded the recommendation for an MSR Hubba tent that a number of hikers seem to revere.  For what my Tarptent Contrail is (1.5 lb, single-wall, non-freestanding tent that is pitched with one trekking pole), it’s great.  However, I have not been entirely happy with the trade-off that one makes when one gives up a proper double-walled tent for a lightweight tarp shelter.  Although Southern California is generally dry, I’ve had a number of mornings where my shelter AND sleeping bag were wet with condensation – making me question why I was carrying a shelter to begin with.  After the San Jacinctos, I set the shelter up next to Mesa Windfarm (which is situated appropriately) to test its wind resistance – and it performed about as expected.  That is to say, it blew over and had to be re-pitched during the night.  Had it been raining, I would have been soaked.  So I broke-down and ordered an MSR Hubba as soon as I got to Idyllwild.  Anyhow, back to the hikers…

After the first few days of hiking through the San Jacinctos, I encountered an older couple (active, but in their 60s) who had already found a ride into Idyllwild from a pair of day-hikers.  Since I needed to resupply anyway, I joined with them down a side-trail and caught an immediate ride into town.  Although Idyllwild is a nice, touristy, mountain town, it is also known for being a bit of a hiker trap.  It’s the first full-service town that one comes upon on the PCT, and many hikers end up losing several days after getting sucked into all the amenities.  Fortunately I was able to rest-up, refuel, and make it back to the trail in exactly 23 hours.  Before leaving town, I joined the older hikers for dinner where I really began to appreciate the amount of traveling that I’ve done the past few years for various internships and races.  I’m not trying to say that being well-traveled makes one a better person, but I do think that it makes it easier to connect with strangers – as if sharing some common ground (e.g., working last summer in the town where someone is going to college) makes it easier to break the ice.  It was fascinating to hear about the types of adventures that they’ve done over the years, and more importantly inspiring to know that you can still attempt challenges such as the PCT when you’re grey in the hair.  I also ran into Damien again, a 25 year old from Utah who was in my four-person room at Warner Springs.  True to his trail name of “Detour”, he had caught up to me after hitching around another section of trail (something to do with the weather I believe, but I forget the exact story).  He would have been a good person to hike with, but he’s been averaging about 5-10 miles/day less than me – and he was heading backwards on the trail to catch a section that he missed when we last spoke.  Last but not least, there was “Zee” (or at least, that’s what he called himself when he was absolutely stoned off his ass).  Zee wandered into my state park campground at 9pm just as I was planning for the next leg of my trip.  I haven’t exactly spent a lot of time around drugs, but I’m pretty sure this guy could’ve been a poster-boy for one of those “This Is Your Brain On Drugs!” advertisements.  I couldn’t quite understand everything he was saying, but I remember him talking about how the world was going to end the next day (I later found out that the following morning was in fact a predicted “Day of Rapture”).  He also recommend that I “Buy some of that… GREEN POWDER… from Nature’s Wisdom [one of the health food stores in town]… tell ‘em that ZEE sent you... oh, and by the way, keep an eye on the sky tonight – there’s going to be some crazy shit going down tonight.”  In hindsight it was a pretty comical encounter, although it kinda creeped me out at the time.  He didn’t seem like the type who would hurt anyone, but I definitely slept with all of my gear inside of my shelter that night.

Anyhow, I restocked on food, ordered some new gear from REI (shipped to a P.O. in Big Bear Lake), and picked up a few odds-and-ends at the local outfitter before hitting the trail for another 3.5 days.  I bought a pair of gaitors that turned out to be a blessing in terms of keeping rocks, sand, and cheat-grass out of my shoes.  I also picked up a waterproof stuff sack to store my down sleeping bag and jacket.  I wasn’t comfortable with the fact that the two warmest items in my arsenal would be next-to-useless if I didn’t protect them from getting wet (down loses its loft when it’s soaked).  As for REI, I got an MSR Hubba tent and short-length Thermarest Neo-Air mattress (blow-up sleeping pad) sent to my next town stop.  I feel like a wimp for giving up on my Z-Lite foam pad, but I just wasn’t sleeping well on it.  The Neo-Air also packs down to the size of a burrito, so I won’t have this obnoxious yellow pad catching on branches when I have to crawl through trees that have fallen across the trail. As for shelter, I’ll probably bounce back and forth between the “real” tent and the tarp tent depending on climate -  but I’ll be happy to have something bombproof for the Sierras and Washington.

The three days (plus one easy evening at the start) between Idyllwild and Big Bear flew by pretty quick.  After finishing another day through the San Jacinctos that topped out at 9,000 feet, I descending down endless switchbacks on San Gorgonio Pass to what I believe is the PCT’s lowest point (about 1,800 feet).  Going downhill is usually fun, but I can guarantee that it gets tiring after the fourth hour or so.  At the bottom, I crossed under I-10 to encounter a hiker named “Kitchen Sink” (apparently named for carrying a ridiculous amount of gear her first couple of days) and a cache of water, soda, and beer.  I ended up cooking dinner there underneath I-10, but skipped the beer on account of already being dehydrated.  From there, it was a 6,000 foot climb the next day followed by a moderate trek into Big Bear. 

Big Bear is not a terribly interesting place (akin to a small-scale South Lake Tahoe), but the hostel has been great.  I’ve showered, WASHED ALL MY CLOTHES!, restocked on food, picked-up new gear from REI, and arranged a ride for tomorrow morning to get back to the trail.

Slowly but surely, I think I am getting the hang of this whole thru-hiking business.  Everyone has their own style, and mine seems to be one of hard pushes on the trail (25-30 miles/day) with relaxing breaks in town.  I’ll make small talk with other people on the trail, but the towns seem to be where everyone gathers to really talk about gear, trail conditions, and anything else that crosses our minds.  I was worried about feeling isolated on the trail, but it really hasn’t been so bad.  There’s enough contact on the trail where you don’t feel out of touch (it’s really no different from a typical school day where you make small-talk with other students, but you don’t actually do anything social).  Once in town, everyone (myself included) seems to be eager to catch-up with one another; and you do tend to run into the same hikers time and time again.  Speaking of which, I would rather catch up with a few people than sit in front of this computer all night - so that’s all for Big Bear Lake.      

Photos for Southern California, In-and-Out of Idyllwild in 24 Hours

So I caught a ride into Idyllwild yesterday at 4pm, and I'm hoping to head back up to the trail within the hour, so I'll keep this post brief (I'll post something longer at my next stop in Big Bear Lake).  For those who are interested, I will be posting the bulk of my photos from this trip on Facebook.  The public link for my Southern California album is:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.831047072969.2332622.12820170&l=301cad4676

 

 

Warner Springs (Mile 110)

So apparently all of my grand adventures are destined to begin with freak-weather-induced flight delays at DFW.  I arrived at the airport on 5/11, after taking the most circuitous public transportation route imaginable from McKinney (unlike Atlanta, it never occurred to the planners in Dallas that the general public might actually want to fly places; it took three hours to make a trip that would have been 20 minutes by car) to discover that my flight to San Diego had been outright canceled.  Whereas my trip to New Zealand was set back by a snowstorm last year, this time the cause was a an unrelenting set of thunderstorms.  Fortunately I was able to haggle for one of the last flights out of DFW and made it to SAN well after midnight.  Equally as fortunate, the trail angel who was providing transportation to the trailhead was still willing to pick me up at the airport (apparently the same storm had delayed the flights of another set of hikers that he was picking up).

Although hikers generally get an early start the first day, everyone ended sleeping in due to the late arrivals.  The trail angel had hiked the entire trail a few years back, and was very helpful in getting us the last minute items (e.g., stove fuel) that we needed before hitting the trail.  He also gave us an introduction to the origin of trail name (nicknames "earned" from fellow hikers while on the trail).  Many names stem from food, and his "gender-bending" name Girlscout came from him getting caught with girlscout cookies during the first week of his hike.  He drove us about an hour to the border just south of Campo, CA, gave us some last words of advice, and left us to finally start the trail at about 12:30 pm.  I stuck my toe under the fence into Mexico (technically the border is 50' beyond the fence) and promptly started off into the desert.

I probably pushed myself harder than was wise the first day since I was starting fresh and over-eager to make progress with the trail.  Despite the late start and hiking through the hottest hours of the day without a cloud in sight, I made it about 21 miles to Lake Morena Campground before nightfall (more than a bit exhausted by the end of it all).  The scenery wasn't great the first day, but it was enjoyable hiking nonetheless.  I thought I was going to be the "heavy" one on the trail since my pack's base weight was 16 lbs (true ultra-lighters are well under 15 lbs), but it turns out that my OCD planning style with spreadsheets galore served me well.  I passed a number of hikers that were carrying God-knows-what in the first few hours; most of them seemed happy and well prepared though.  Of course you run into all sorts of folk on the trail, and one of them somehow managed to get out there with a 70 lb pack yet just 2 L of water.  I couldn't help but give him one of my 1 L bottles with instructions to buy more at his next stop if he didn't want to die.  I don't think I was mean about it, but how does one throw themselves into the desert with everything BUT the key essential to life?! 

Day 2 had a late start from feeling quite dehydrated after the first day, but I managed to nurse myself back to health and hit the trail strong before 8 am.  Progress was pretty fast as I climbed towards the Laguna Mountains, and I even passed some of the water checks (pieces of trail construction installed to prevent erosion from destroying a trail, they basically consist of large slabs of rock buried vertically, most hikers pass by the small fraction of rock that is exposed never realizing how much work goes into preserving a trail) that I helped install with my GT Trailblazers trip to the area in 2008.  The scenery improved quite a bit, although I still downed a ton of water given the heat and intense sunshine.

On the third day, I had a much cooler hike at elevation through the forested Laguna Mountains.  With a much lighter pack and by going at my own pace, I covered the section from Pioneer Mail Trailhead to Sunrise Trailhead (the last day of hiking for our 2008 Trailblazers trip) in the time between mid-morning snack and lunch.  I kept on hiking and eventually decided to just cowboy camp (lay out the sleeping pad and bag under the stars) directly on the trail.  It was the best patch of ground around, and I figured no one else would be coming through until after I had already left.

Day 4 started with making breakfast over the quiet alcohol stove without even leaving my sleeping bag.  After this brief period to reflect and prepare for the day ahead, I started off on what was by far the most challenging day of hiking.  After coming across a water cache with warnings about the dry stretch ahead, I played it safe and packed a whooping 8 L for the long climb.  Although the terrain and the pack weight from all of the water absolutely destroyed my feet, I couldn't have asked for better weather.  The San Felipe Hills are infamous for sunny 90-100+ degree weather, and I happened to make the trek under the cover of a windy and 60 degree cold front.  All said and done, I put in about 30 miles that day before finally collapsing at Barrel Springs Campground (despite the cacophony of frogs at the site's water cistern).  I ran into a few more hikers who started the day before me, and we decided to split in on a room at the upcoming Warner Springs.

Although the 10 mile hike to Warner Springs was about as mild and pleasant as one could ask for, I think we were all pretty beat up from the previous day's trekking.  Fortunately Warner Springs Resort is very generous to hikers, and we managed to snag a great discount that came out to about $20 pp.  After showering just enough to wash four days of grime off, I promptly jumped in the hot springs pool and floated like a corpse for I don't even know how long.  Words cannot begin to describe the relaxation of a hot spring soak after four days of self-inflicted abuse.  I thought I would head out this morning, but decided to wait out an extra day with the other hikers in my room until the weather subsided.  We had a cold front with rain pass through, and we figured that if it's 40s and rainy here it must be freezing several thousand feet up in the mountains where we are headed.  I am equipped to survive days below freezing, but I am not equipped to enjoy them.  An extra day of rest would probably do my feet well anyhow.  I have the muscular endurance to put in 25+ mile days already, but I would be wise to ease up a bit before I damage (e.g., stress fracture) my feet.  I think the first 2-3 weeks will be a proving ground to build up my "hiking legs" and to see what I am capable of.

So I realize this is probably way more information than anyone needed, but it's a rainy day without much else to do.  I've already spent hours chatting with the other hikers (very interesting group of people to be with, one of the reason why I decided to stay here an extra day).  There are two older guys from Austria and Italy along with another guy my age from Utah.  I started off from the border with three girls about my age (it would've been nice to keep with them for a while, but our hiking paces just weren't compatible), but unfortunately the majority of the thru-hikers seem to be middle-aged men.  It's also been interesting to see that despite all the talk about "crazy thru-hikers", the majority of the people that I've encountered on the trail so far are section hikers from San Diego who are just taking a few days to a few weeks off of work.  As for general reflections, it's a bit early to say what this trail has done for me.  It is already turning out to be an amazing experience, but most of my thoughts so far have been focused on getting adjusted to the routine of hiking-eating-camping-repeat that dominates trail life.  Although I probably have a few cold days ahead of me, I can say that packing as light as possible has been very liberating.  It's great to be able to reach into my bag and pull out exactly what I need because there aren't extraneous items to distract my grasp.  From the technology standpoint, I was surprised by how little I missed my phone, my Facebook, and my oh-no-better-check-email-every-5-minutes.  Of course I'm catching up with the outside world a few days ahead of schedule, but I think I'll take the opportunity now and then skip my email/blogging when I get to Idyllwild.

So all-in-all things are going well, and this extra day of rest will probably do me a lot of good in the long run.  I'm eager to hit the trail again tomorrow morning, and I will try to get another post in after another week or so (probably at Big Bear Lake).

Pre-Departure

Well I am proud to say that I have officially earned the title of "Ramblin' Wreck" that adorns this blog!  I graduated from Georgia Tech with my BSME degree on Sunday and am quickly hurtling towards my departure for the PCT.  It's been a hectic week with lots to distract me from final preparations - but nothing worth complaining about.  The main thing is that the scope of my adventure has just gotten a little bit bigger.  I found out barely a week ago that I was selected for a Fulbright Scholarship to conduct research in Australia for 8-12 months.  So Stanford is on hold until 2012; I will be flying to Sydney to work on solar energy whenever I get off the trail.  I am very excited to go back, but I've spent the last week scrambling to get paperwork squared away with everyone before I disappear into the wilderness (instead of prepping for Finals/the PCT).

Anyhow, I fly out to San Diego tomorrow evening and intend to start hiking the following morning.  My new pack is fully-loaded with gear and food; the only items I'll have to pick up in San Diego are a lighter, fuel for my alcohol stove, and enough Gatorade bottles to give me ~5 L of carrying capacity.  I never did get around to weighing what my actual base weight will be, but it feels like I've shaved 10 lbs off of what I usually carry in my pack.  "Golden Child" prepared the first four days of food that I will fly out with, and has mailed several more days worth of food ahead of me to Warner Springs.  From there, I'll take over for most of my resupplies by just buying food in towns.  The new diet will take some getting used to - a lot more nuts and trail  mix than I'm used to (I generally opt for more Cliff Bars, and even fresh fruit for the first day or two) - but it will also keep the weight/volume of my food down.  

I just talked with the "Trail Angel" in San Diego ("Trail Angel" is the general term for volunteers who work to support PCT thru-hikers by offering transportation, lodging, laundry, etc; they usually reside in towns near the trail and are typically affiliated with the Pacific Crest Trail Association/PCTA) who will be picking me up from the airport, and it turns out he's picking up three other hikers after my flight tomorrow.  So I should have some company the first few days.  I wasn't too concerned about starting at the border alone since I've yet to hear any stories about hikers having problems with the illegals (and I have been asking) - but it should ease the worries of my family.  

So I've got a little more than a day left to catch up on movies, study the water reports for southern California, and enjoy civilized comforts such as hot running water.  I'm starting later than "the herd" (sorry, graduating from college was a bigger priority), but it might actually work out for the best.  The Sierras got a lot of snow this year, but southern California also got a lot of rain apparently; so water shortages shouldn't be as big of an issue when I start out.  Starting late will also allow a few extra weeks for more snow to melt in the Sierras.  It would be premature to make predictions about what sort of pace I will keep and how far I will actually make it, as a lot can happen in four months of hiking, but I am confident that I have prepared for the factors that are under my control.  Whatever happens, my place shall never be with "those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat" (from a favorite quote by Teddy Roosevelt).