April 23, 2005 to May 8: Mexican Border to Warner Springs Ranch
What a start on my first hundred miles of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) -- cold, driving rain in the Laguna Mountains, baking heat in the Anza-Borrego Desert and fierce winds everywhere else. My first lesson of this trip: the PCT is not for wimps! And the second lesson: the rugged scenery, the colorful wildflowers and the community among hikers -- all made it worth it.
Every year long-distance hikers organize a celebration of the PCT at a campground at Lake Morena Park close to the start of the trail at the Mexican border. The full name of the event is the Annual Day Zero Pacific Crest Trail Kick Off (ADZPCTKO.) Over 600 hikers attended this year, a record number.
All of us aiming to thru-hike or hike long sections of the PCT this year gathered as the Class of 2005. I'm on one knee in the middle with a tan shirt -- and no beard. (Group photo of Class of 2005.) Previous "classes" also came down to have reunions, swap stories and cheer us on. Last year's group included the youngest-ever hiker to do the PCT in one season -- a ten-year old girl with the trail name of Scrambler. It was also fun to meet some of the characters well-known up and down the trail, such as Yogi, Gottago and Billy Goat. I was also happy to see my good friends from the Pacific Crest Trail Association (PCTA) -- Liz Bergeron and Mike Dawson -- who work so hard to maintain and protect the trail. (Photo of three under banner.)
Saturday, April 23rd, was jam-packed with useful talks, inspiring slide-shows and many workshops. A crowd-pleaser was the first contest for "most useless item" being carried by a thru-hiker. The winner had a detailed, written plan for the hike; number two had an eyelash curler and third prize went to the "Reverend Gizmo" who travels with a complete Bible. My favorite program was by Scott Williamson, who was the first hiker ever to do a "yo-yo" of the trail in one season --Mexico to Canada and then Canada to Mexico back again. What awesome determination!
All pumped up from the Kick-Off, I caught an early ride Sunday to the border. On the way we drove through the small town of Campo past a huge base of the Immigration and Naturalization Service with its fleet of over fifty Jeeps in plain view. The PCT begins at 3000' in elevation at a plain and simple monument next to the high metal fence along the U.S./Mexican border. (PK at monument; PK at fence.) I signed the register; thanked my drivers -- Paul and Trish from Bakersfield -- and was off.
Like much of the trail in S. CA the opening miles lead through chaparral, a community of drought-tolerant plants such as manzanita typically about five feet high. This spring was the second wettest in the region in one hundred years so the chaparral was a deep green, with flowers blooming everywhere. (Chaparral.) Prominant were the tall, creamy stalks of the yucca, called "Our Lord's Candles" by the locals, which shoot up in only thirty days. (Yucca.) Indian paintbrush also added splashes of orange and red to the trail. (Paintbrush.) Scattered among the granite boulders were also white "popcorn" flowers. (Popcorn.) Masses of yellow flowers also hung from the rocks like window baskets. (Hanging yellow flowers.)
It was also heartening that the first stream crossed by the PCT -- Campo Creek -- was full and flowing; that's a good sign that many water sources will be available. It was pretty too to see a passenger train chug past the trail. (Train.) The hike was off to a colorful start!
Shortly after crossing Highway 94, the PCT entered a large bloc of federal land run by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM.) It's a tract eligible for wilderness and has been designated the Hauser Mountain Wilderness Study Area by BLM. It contains over ten miles of the PCT. Legislation to establish wilderness here has been introduced by CA's two senators and a number of House members. The PCTA favors the measure as a way to preserve the wild setting of the trail. I am pleased to report that inholdings within the area have just been purchased by the Trust for Public Land making it an even better candidate for wilderness.
The PCT climbed the scenic canyons and rims of the area to the summit of Hauser Mountain, where I camped my first night. Hiking down a steep descent in the area the next day into Hauser Creek I reflected that this would make an excellent wilderness for Congress to designate, an apt gateway to PCT adventure.
Along Hauser Creek in the Cleveland National Forest were inviting campsites sheltered by cottonwoods and sycamores, perfect for my lunch and a nap. The PCT then entered the Forest Service's Hauser Wilderness, created by Congress in 1984, and began a steep thousand-foot climb up long switchbacks. (Hauser Canyon.)
Every hour or so helicopters passed through the canyon, probably looking for immigrants seeking to enter the U.S. A sign on the PCT warned folks in Spanish "not to expose themselves to the elements." (Sign.) I saw a couple of plaid blankets discarded in the canyon so this creek does draw a crowd.
The next day I went past the campground at Lake Morena Park and enjoyed a shower, restaurant food and fresh water and pushed on to Cottonwood Creek. Where the PCT reached the creek near a road, the Forest Service had put up a sign that it was taking steps to safeguard the Southwestern Arroyo Toad, an endangered species. Near the road the agency had put up fences along Cottonwood Creek, perhaps to prevent damage from livestock grazing or off-road vehicles. Behind the fence was a lush growth of reeds and willows along the creek. By preserving habitat for this toad, the Forest Service was no doubt also helping out the fish, the birds and the other species that rely on the streams in this dry area.
A few days later I was reading a headline story in the San Diego paper about government approval of a new drug made by a local company to treat diabetes. The drug was derived from the spit of the poisonous Gila monster, a desert lizard listed as an endangered species. This shows the value of saving rare species for possible medical benefits; perhaps someday the arroyo toad might make such a contribution.
I hiked under my first interstate, I-8, and began a three thousand foot ascent of the Laguna Mountains. I met a Forest Service trail worker who told me two inches of rain were in the forecast. The trail climbed past basalt columns spiking up from the chaparral and reached pine forests along Fred Canyon. (Columns.) I camped along a flowing mountain stream, featuring miner's lettuce on its banks, an edible plant -- the loveliest campsite so far. Cold wind whipped down the canyon all night but my tent held its warmth well. At dawn I quickly packed up and hiked off as a light patter of rain began.
Big mistake. I should have stayed in the tent, warm and dry, and waited out the storm.
As I ascended, the rain got colder and harder and the bare ridges offered no trees for shelter. I had on raingear but was concerned the deluge might last all day and even into the night so I took a side trail toward a campground -- Cibbets Flat -- where I could find tree cover. To my delight, there was a campground host in his RV who spotted me and waved me inside. A true "trail angel," Tim gave me a tea kettle of hot water and let me dry out and warm up as the rain pelted even harder. After a get-acquainted chat he then drove me to the small town at the top of the mountain where I got a motel room and watched the storm rage through the day.
Again, lesson learned -- wait out these cold, spring rains. What if it had turned to snow? Then the PCT footpath would have been covered up and very difficult to follow.
The next day dawned clear and dry, allowing me to go back down on the PCT to about where I had stopped and return to the motel on a day hike. That also let me enjoy all the stops along the Desert View Nature Trail, which runs along the PCT for a spell. One of the amazing spots was a so-called "granary tree." (Tree with holes.) This is a mature Jeffrey pine; note the many holes. It is the work of the acorn woodpecker, which digs out the holes and fills them with acorns from the nearby oaks. Wasps then come and lay eggs in the acorns, which eventually hatch. The woodpeckers return and eat the larvae. Pretty smart birds! By the way, the holes do not harm the trees.
The Laguna Mountains are a "fault-block" range, created by the collision of plates of the earth. Like the Sierra Nevada, they have a "trap-door" shape, with a dramatic escarpment on the eastern side. Thus, from the PCT hikers stare down more than 4,000' to the floor of the desert and way beyond to the Salton Sea. (View of desert; another view of desert with PK.)
Continuing north on May 1st I was buffeted by fierce winds, up to fifty mph, along the treeless ridge of Oriflamme Mountain -- so strong I could barely stand during gusts. As sunset approached, I came up upon an older fellow who was struggling with the wind and clearly wanted help finding a secure spot to camp. We hiked quickly along the ridge and found a hollow to pitch our tents without them blowing to the moon. It turned out I had met the hiker earlier; a fellow named George, he had attended my PCT talk in March at the REI store in Concord. Our paths were to cross many times over the next month.
I descended the next day out of the wind into Chariot Canyon, with a scenic creek with clear and delicious water. The PCT dropped still further to reach a water tank in Rodriguez Canyon, now on the edge of the desert, far removed from the pine forests of the Laguna Mountains. As I was leaving with full water bags, who should arrive but George, true to his trail name -- KOKO5, "keep on keeping on."
Soon thereafter, the PCT entered Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, CA's largest park, where it would pass through a series of state wilderness areas. The first of these was Granite Mountain Wilderness, dominated by a massive peak. (Granite Mountain.) The PCT contoured around the mountain, winding in and out of hidden ravines, such as this narrow wash where I was able to set up my tent. (Tent in ravine.) Hummingbirds buzzed my camp at dawn, perhaps attracted by the turquoise color of the tent.
Along with a handful of other states, CA has a system of wilderness areas on state lands. These are managed like federal wildernesses to preserve their natural condition through prohibitions on road construction and other development. The CA bill setting up the state system was passed in the 1970's. Areas have been established through legislative and administrative action.
The next highway was at Scissors Crossing, also the site of the next water cache. (Water cache.) These are put up and maintained by generous friends of the hiking community; without these caches, it would be much more difficult to get across long, waterless stretches of trail.
Carrying two gallons of water I began the steep climb up into the San Felipe Hills, within the state Grapevine Mountain Wilderness. What a botanical garden! The ground was carpeted in red flowers, highlighting the cholla cactus. (Red ground.) Tall barrel cactus were in flower amidst the rocks. (Barrel cactus.) Some teddy-bear cactus had red flowers (Cholla 1) and others showed off lime-green flowers (Cholla 2.) Distinctive too were the many ocotillo cactus, which grows a new set of green leaves after each rain and bursts out with red blossoms from each stalk. (Ocotillo.)
No shade and 100 plus temperatures make this a dreaded range for thru-hikers. I had heard stories at the Kick-Off about heat stroke in May so I took it slow, drank plenty of liquid and took mid-day naps. Thank God for the water cache halfway across the hills and for the cool winds that blew in near the end. Thus, I didn't have to seek retreat from the sun in this old mining shaft, a legacy of gold-rush days. (Mining shaft.) Here's my tent, without a fly, to take advantage of the breezes. (Flyless tent.)
During a break at Barrel Springs at the next road I chatted with a couple of admirable thru-hikers: Squeeky, from Northern Ireland, in the middle of a single-year hike of the PCT, the Appalachian Trail and the Continental Divide Trail. It's been done once; he would be the second. I wished him well and off he zoomed. And Ray, whose wife has been diagnosed with Parkinsons. He's hiking to raise money for the National Parkinsons Foundation to seek a cure for the disease.
The final section before Warner Springs Ranch was across miles of golden grasslands, a waving savannah that resembled a set from some Western, like "Bonanza." (Savannah.) It ended with a campsite in Canada Verde (Spanish for "Green Ravine") along a running stream past giant live oaks and cottonwoods, close to Paradise after all the waterless heat. (Pack on live oak.)
Warner Springs Ranch, only a mile off the PCT, was the perfect rest stop. It had everything -- good food, especially salads; Internet access, hot soaking pools; rooms at hiker rates; laundry; library and socializing with other hikers. It also has a post office, where I picked up a box of protein bars and other goodies that I'd mailed before starting. I took my first "zero" day on Sunday and called my sisters to wish them Happy Mother's Day. "Zero" day is a hiker's term for a day off, i.e., zero mileage. Just as I was leaving on Monday morning, George arrived, worn out like I was when I showed up, but still at it.
Every year long-distance hikers organize a celebration of the PCT at a campground at Lake Morena Park close to the start of the trail at the Mexican border. The full name of the event is the Annual Day Zero Pacific Crest Trail Kick Off (ADZPCTKO.) Over 600 hikers attended this year, a record number.
All of us aiming to thru-hike or hike long sections of the PCT this year gathered as the Class of 2005. I'm on one knee in the middle with a tan shirt -- and no beard. (Group photo of Class of 2005.) Previous "classes" also came down to have reunions, swap stories and cheer us on. Last year's group included the youngest-ever hiker to do the PCT in one season -- a ten-year old girl with the trail name of Scrambler. It was also fun to meet some of the characters well-known up and down the trail, such as Yogi, Gottago and Billy Goat. I was also happy to see my good friends from the Pacific Crest Trail Association (PCTA) -- Liz Bergeron and Mike Dawson -- who work so hard to maintain and protect the trail. (Photo of three under banner.)
Saturday, April 23rd, was jam-packed with useful talks, inspiring slide-shows and many workshops. A crowd-pleaser was the first contest for "most useless item" being carried by a thru-hiker. The winner had a detailed, written plan for the hike; number two had an eyelash curler and third prize went to the "Reverend Gizmo" who travels with a complete Bible. My favorite program was by Scott Williamson, who was the first hiker ever to do a "yo-yo" of the trail in one season --Mexico to Canada and then Canada to Mexico back again. What awesome determination!
All pumped up from the Kick-Off, I caught an early ride Sunday to the border. On the way we drove through the small town of Campo past a huge base of the Immigration and Naturalization Service with its fleet of over fifty Jeeps in plain view. The PCT begins at 3000' in elevation at a plain and simple monument next to the high metal fence along the U.S./Mexican border. (PK at monument; PK at fence.) I signed the register; thanked my drivers -- Paul and Trish from Bakersfield -- and was off.
Like much of the trail in S. CA the opening miles lead through chaparral, a community of drought-tolerant plants such as manzanita typically about five feet high. This spring was the second wettest in the region in one hundred years so the chaparral was a deep green, with flowers blooming everywhere. (Chaparral.) Prominant were the tall, creamy stalks of the yucca, called "Our Lord's Candles" by the locals, which shoot up in only thirty days. (Yucca.) Indian paintbrush also added splashes of orange and red to the trail. (Paintbrush.) Scattered among the granite boulders were also white "popcorn" flowers. (Popcorn.) Masses of yellow flowers also hung from the rocks like window baskets. (Hanging yellow flowers.)
It was also heartening that the first stream crossed by the PCT -- Campo Creek -- was full and flowing; that's a good sign that many water sources will be available. It was pretty too to see a passenger train chug past the trail. (Train.) The hike was off to a colorful start!
Shortly after crossing Highway 94, the PCT entered a large bloc of federal land run by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM.) It's a tract eligible for wilderness and has been designated the Hauser Mountain Wilderness Study Area by BLM. It contains over ten miles of the PCT. Legislation to establish wilderness here has been introduced by CA's two senators and a number of House members. The PCTA favors the measure as a way to preserve the wild setting of the trail. I am pleased to report that inholdings within the area have just been purchased by the Trust for Public Land making it an even better candidate for wilderness.
The PCT climbed the scenic canyons and rims of the area to the summit of Hauser Mountain, where I camped my first night. Hiking down a steep descent in the area the next day into Hauser Creek I reflected that this would make an excellent wilderness for Congress to designate, an apt gateway to PCT adventure.
Along Hauser Creek in the Cleveland National Forest were inviting campsites sheltered by cottonwoods and sycamores, perfect for my lunch and a nap. The PCT then entered the Forest Service's Hauser Wilderness, created by Congress in 1984, and began a steep thousand-foot climb up long switchbacks. (Hauser Canyon.)
Every hour or so helicopters passed through the canyon, probably looking for immigrants seeking to enter the U.S. A sign on the PCT warned folks in Spanish "not to expose themselves to the elements." (Sign.) I saw a couple of plaid blankets discarded in the canyon so this creek does draw a crowd.
The next day I went past the campground at Lake Morena Park and enjoyed a shower, restaurant food and fresh water and pushed on to Cottonwood Creek. Where the PCT reached the creek near a road, the Forest Service had put up a sign that it was taking steps to safeguard the Southwestern Arroyo Toad, an endangered species. Near the road the agency had put up fences along Cottonwood Creek, perhaps to prevent damage from livestock grazing or off-road vehicles. Behind the fence was a lush growth of reeds and willows along the creek. By preserving habitat for this toad, the Forest Service was no doubt also helping out the fish, the birds and the other species that rely on the streams in this dry area.
A few days later I was reading a headline story in the San Diego paper about government approval of a new drug made by a local company to treat diabetes. The drug was derived from the spit of the poisonous Gila monster, a desert lizard listed as an endangered species. This shows the value of saving rare species for possible medical benefits; perhaps someday the arroyo toad might make such a contribution.
I hiked under my first interstate, I-8, and began a three thousand foot ascent of the Laguna Mountains. I met a Forest Service trail worker who told me two inches of rain were in the forecast. The trail climbed past basalt columns spiking up from the chaparral and reached pine forests along Fred Canyon. (Columns.) I camped along a flowing mountain stream, featuring miner's lettuce on its banks, an edible plant -- the loveliest campsite so far. Cold wind whipped down the canyon all night but my tent held its warmth well. At dawn I quickly packed up and hiked off as a light patter of rain began.
Big mistake. I should have stayed in the tent, warm and dry, and waited out the storm.
As I ascended, the rain got colder and harder and the bare ridges offered no trees for shelter. I had on raingear but was concerned the deluge might last all day and even into the night so I took a side trail toward a campground -- Cibbets Flat -- where I could find tree cover. To my delight, there was a campground host in his RV who spotted me and waved me inside. A true "trail angel," Tim gave me a tea kettle of hot water and let me dry out and warm up as the rain pelted even harder. After a get-acquainted chat he then drove me to the small town at the top of the mountain where I got a motel room and watched the storm rage through the day.
Again, lesson learned -- wait out these cold, spring rains. What if it had turned to snow? Then the PCT footpath would have been covered up and very difficult to follow.
The next day dawned clear and dry, allowing me to go back down on the PCT to about where I had stopped and return to the motel on a day hike. That also let me enjoy all the stops along the Desert View Nature Trail, which runs along the PCT for a spell. One of the amazing spots was a so-called "granary tree." (Tree with holes.) This is a mature Jeffrey pine; note the many holes. It is the work of the acorn woodpecker, which digs out the holes and fills them with acorns from the nearby oaks. Wasps then come and lay eggs in the acorns, which eventually hatch. The woodpeckers return and eat the larvae. Pretty smart birds! By the way, the holes do not harm the trees.
The Laguna Mountains are a "fault-block" range, created by the collision of plates of the earth. Like the Sierra Nevada, they have a "trap-door" shape, with a dramatic escarpment on the eastern side. Thus, from the PCT hikers stare down more than 4,000' to the floor of the desert and way beyond to the Salton Sea. (View of desert; another view of desert with PK.)
Continuing north on May 1st I was buffeted by fierce winds, up to fifty mph, along the treeless ridge of Oriflamme Mountain -- so strong I could barely stand during gusts. As sunset approached, I came up upon an older fellow who was struggling with the wind and clearly wanted help finding a secure spot to camp. We hiked quickly along the ridge and found a hollow to pitch our tents without them blowing to the moon. It turned out I had met the hiker earlier; a fellow named George, he had attended my PCT talk in March at the REI store in Concord. Our paths were to cross many times over the next month.
I descended the next day out of the wind into Chariot Canyon, with a scenic creek with clear and delicious water. The PCT dropped still further to reach a water tank in Rodriguez Canyon, now on the edge of the desert, far removed from the pine forests of the Laguna Mountains. As I was leaving with full water bags, who should arrive but George, true to his trail name -- KOKO5, "keep on keeping on."
Soon thereafter, the PCT entered Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, CA's largest park, where it would pass through a series of state wilderness areas. The first of these was Granite Mountain Wilderness, dominated by a massive peak. (Granite Mountain.) The PCT contoured around the mountain, winding in and out of hidden ravines, such as this narrow wash where I was able to set up my tent. (Tent in ravine.) Hummingbirds buzzed my camp at dawn, perhaps attracted by the turquoise color of the tent.
Along with a handful of other states, CA has a system of wilderness areas on state lands. These are managed like federal wildernesses to preserve their natural condition through prohibitions on road construction and other development. The CA bill setting up the state system was passed in the 1970's. Areas have been established through legislative and administrative action.
The next highway was at Scissors Crossing, also the site of the next water cache. (Water cache.) These are put up and maintained by generous friends of the hiking community; without these caches, it would be much more difficult to get across long, waterless stretches of trail.
Carrying two gallons of water I began the steep climb up into the San Felipe Hills, within the state Grapevine Mountain Wilderness. What a botanical garden! The ground was carpeted in red flowers, highlighting the cholla cactus. (Red ground.) Tall barrel cactus were in flower amidst the rocks. (Barrel cactus.) Some teddy-bear cactus had red flowers (Cholla 1) and others showed off lime-green flowers (Cholla 2.) Distinctive too were the many ocotillo cactus, which grows a new set of green leaves after each rain and bursts out with red blossoms from each stalk. (Ocotillo.)
No shade and 100 plus temperatures make this a dreaded range for thru-hikers. I had heard stories at the Kick-Off about heat stroke in May so I took it slow, drank plenty of liquid and took mid-day naps. Thank God for the water cache halfway across the hills and for the cool winds that blew in near the end. Thus, I didn't have to seek retreat from the sun in this old mining shaft, a legacy of gold-rush days. (Mining shaft.) Here's my tent, without a fly, to take advantage of the breezes. (Flyless tent.)
During a break at Barrel Springs at the next road I chatted with a couple of admirable thru-hikers: Squeeky, from Northern Ireland, in the middle of a single-year hike of the PCT, the Appalachian Trail and the Continental Divide Trail. It's been done once; he would be the second. I wished him well and off he zoomed. And Ray, whose wife has been diagnosed with Parkinsons. He's hiking to raise money for the National Parkinsons Foundation to seek a cure for the disease.
The final section before Warner Springs Ranch was across miles of golden grasslands, a waving savannah that resembled a set from some Western, like "Bonanza." (Savannah.) It ended with a campsite in Canada Verde (Spanish for "Green Ravine") along a running stream past giant live oaks and cottonwoods, close to Paradise after all the waterless heat. (Pack on live oak.)
Warner Springs Ranch, only a mile off the PCT, was the perfect rest stop. It had everything -- good food, especially salads; Internet access, hot soaking pools; rooms at hiker rates; laundry; library and socializing with other hikers. It also has a post office, where I picked up a box of protein bars and other goodies that I'd mailed before starting. I took my first "zero" day on Sunday and called my sisters to wish them Happy Mother's Day. "Zero" day is a hiker's term for a day off, i.e., zero mileage. Just as I was leaving on Monday morning, George arrived, worn out like I was when I showed up, but still at it.
posted by peterkirby at
3:36 PM
