May 26, 2005 to June 2: Idyllwild to Big Bear Lake
Most long-distance hikers, like George and me, were bypassing the snowbound, highest terrain of the San Jacinto's, from Saddle Junction through Fuller Ridge. (Fortunately, I had done a three-day backpack in 2003 to San Jacinto Peak and had seen much of the gorgeous trail skipped this year.) I was dropped off early at the gated Black Mountain road to the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), facing a long uphill just to get back to the trail. Within moments, however, a trail angel appeared in the person of a Forest Service volunteer opening the gate to drive their vehicle up to the top to staff a fire lookout. Lucky me to get a ride almost the whole way to the PCT!
I was also in a chipper mood because the hike would be all downhill for two days, from about 7,000' at the intersection of the PCT and the Black Mountain road to about 1,000' at I-10 in San Gorgonio Pass. Indeed, I-10 appeared as a tiny thread far below. Across the pass loomed San Gorgonio Mountain, at 11,500 feet the highest point in Southern California. (San Gorgonio Mountain.)
As the trail switchbacked steadily down, the sheer north face of San Jacinto Peak, with its multiple avalanche chutes, came more into view. (North face of San Jacinto Peak.) Here's me perched on a rock in front of the massive bulk of the mountain. (PK with north face of peak.)
About halfway down, George caught up with me, again looking very tired. He had arrived early at our meeting spot at the gate and had accepted a ride to the top with another Forest Service staffer. However, he then erred and went south rather than north from the PCT intersection and had hiked back into the snow. By the time he turned around he had lost a few hours. Anyway, we were able to find a flat spot and set up our tents early for him to recover from his strenuous day.
After long hours of downhill the next day we finally reached Snow Canyon, which took us to San Gorgonio Pass, the lowest point on the PCT in CA at 1,200 feet. The trail is marked with posts across the sandy pass; looking back at San Jacinto Peak is like staring at a cloud it is so high. (San Jacinto Peak from the pass.) The desert floor was decorated with an occasional bush of Angels Trumpet. (Angels Trumpet.)
After a hot slog across the pass we rested in the shade under I-10. George was preparing to hitch-hike on the highway to the nearest airport and then head home to the Bay area. At 69, he was pleased to have finished such a long and tough hike; I was proud of him too for not giving up in the face of so many hardships. Off he went to seek his ride while I pushed on in the heavy heat, facing an ascent back to 9,000'.
The next day I hiked through Gold Canyon towards the Mesa Wind Farm, with ridges full of spinning windmills making energy without pollution in the wind tunnel of the pass. (Windmills.) The PCT now was on land administered by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM.) Soon, the trail entered a designated wilderness -- the San Gorgonio Wilderness -- containing both national forest and BLM acres. This was exciting for me since I had never backpacked through BLM wilderness before.
I was startled by the size of Whitewater Canyon, seen here from the PCT. (Whitewater Canyon.) Snowmelt from the mountains created this wide riverbed. The trail was difficult to follow through the canyon with the footpath often submerged in wetlands. It was even more difficult to follow across the sandy riverbed because the snowmelt swept away trail markers every spring. Fortunately, the guidebook directed me to some red rock outcrops where the PCT turned to cross the canyon.
But then I came to the Whitewater River itself -- a raging torrent of icy water thigh and sometimes waist deep! I hunted up and down the banks and found a spot where a long log had wedged in some rapids, allowing me to wade the river holding onto the log. Here's my tent next to the spot where I crossed, with the log visible. (Whitewater River.)
The trail began to ascend more steeply the next day when it started to follow Mission Creek, its route for the next twelve miles or so. Not only was it up, up, up but the PCT forded Mission Creek over twenty times! Again, I often held onto logs as I walked through the cold and fast waters of the creek. (Mission Creek with log.) It was days before my boots dried out. But it was beautiful camping in the narrow canyon shaded by cottonwoods and sycamores and dotted with flowers. (Lupine; prickly-pear cactus.)
One morning a hiker by the name of Dave caught up with me, quite agitated. He was in his tent at dusk the day before when he heard a sound. He looked out at a mountain lion about five feet away! It slowly retreated but kept staring at him. He held up his trekking poles to appear larger and the cat eventually left.
The guidebook mentioned that cattle no longer grazed along Mission Creek because a wildlife group called the Wildlands Conservancy purchased some inholdings within the wilderness, including the grazing rights to BLM land. Thank you, my friends.
It took me three days to ascend the 5,000' up Mission Creek. It was slow and hard going. I stopped early one day and chatted with a hiker who got lost for five hours trying to cross Whitewater Canyon and ford the river. Mosquitoes were also aggressive for a day. The creek became even more pretty as it turned into cascades and finally narrowed down to a spring. (Sign.) At long last the PCT reached high country again, with snow nearby on Ten Thousand Foot Ridge. (Tree against snow.)
Sadly, time had run out on my hike in S. CA; I had to return to the Bay area to do this journal and tend to some other obligations. However, I was satisfied with this end point because I had completed almost three hundred miles of the PCT and had seen great beauty and met the challenges of terrain and weather.
My last night I camped in a meadow at the headwaters of the Santa Ana River. The breezes were very cool coming down off the snow on San Gorgonio Mountain. It was amazing that just days earlier I had been hiking across sandy desert in triple-digit heat. That's the wonderful diversity of the PCT!
I exited the next day down the Santa Ana River Trail to Highway 38, also called the "Rim of the World," close to Big Bear Lake. My goal was to hitch-hike down the mountain into the 1-10 corridor where I could rent a car and drive back home. This was my first attempt to thumb a ride on this trip and I had no idea what to expect. Fortunately, I had a secret weapon -- a purple bandana given us at the Kick-Off with the slogan "Hiker to Town." This was a gift to the Class of 2005 from Gottago. (PK with bandana.)
I stepped to the side of the road and held out my slogan. Within fifteen minutes a van stopped and the driver welcomed me warmly inside. They were an older couple from Big Bear Lake -- Alice and Laney -- who regularly helped out PCT hikers. In fact, they had been to the Kick-Off and recognized the bandana! They drove me all the way down the mountain, located a rental car outlet and took me to its door -- another blessing from trail angels.
On the way through L.A. I visited my cousin Mike Chieffo, an accomplished actor, and went for a hike with him on the PCT in the Angeles National Forest past big pines down to the lush Rattlesnake Creek. Here's Mike against the backdrop of Twin Peaks in the San Gabriel Wilderness. (Mike and mountains; sign.) As a thank-you present for the hospitality of Mike -- and his wife, Beth Grant, also a superb actress, and daughter Mary -- I brought them an overside Coulter pine cone from the woods as a centerpiece for their dining room table.
I was also in a chipper mood because the hike would be all downhill for two days, from about 7,000' at the intersection of the PCT and the Black Mountain road to about 1,000' at I-10 in San Gorgonio Pass. Indeed, I-10 appeared as a tiny thread far below. Across the pass loomed San Gorgonio Mountain, at 11,500 feet the highest point in Southern California. (San Gorgonio Mountain.)
As the trail switchbacked steadily down, the sheer north face of San Jacinto Peak, with its multiple avalanche chutes, came more into view. (North face of San Jacinto Peak.) Here's me perched on a rock in front of the massive bulk of the mountain. (PK with north face of peak.)
About halfway down, George caught up with me, again looking very tired. He had arrived early at our meeting spot at the gate and had accepted a ride to the top with another Forest Service staffer. However, he then erred and went south rather than north from the PCT intersection and had hiked back into the snow. By the time he turned around he had lost a few hours. Anyway, we were able to find a flat spot and set up our tents early for him to recover from his strenuous day.
After long hours of downhill the next day we finally reached Snow Canyon, which took us to San Gorgonio Pass, the lowest point on the PCT in CA at 1,200 feet. The trail is marked with posts across the sandy pass; looking back at San Jacinto Peak is like staring at a cloud it is so high. (San Jacinto Peak from the pass.) The desert floor was decorated with an occasional bush of Angels Trumpet. (Angels Trumpet.)
After a hot slog across the pass we rested in the shade under I-10. George was preparing to hitch-hike on the highway to the nearest airport and then head home to the Bay area. At 69, he was pleased to have finished such a long and tough hike; I was proud of him too for not giving up in the face of so many hardships. Off he went to seek his ride while I pushed on in the heavy heat, facing an ascent back to 9,000'.
The next day I hiked through Gold Canyon towards the Mesa Wind Farm, with ridges full of spinning windmills making energy without pollution in the wind tunnel of the pass. (Windmills.) The PCT now was on land administered by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM.) Soon, the trail entered a designated wilderness -- the San Gorgonio Wilderness -- containing both national forest and BLM acres. This was exciting for me since I had never backpacked through BLM wilderness before.
I was startled by the size of Whitewater Canyon, seen here from the PCT. (Whitewater Canyon.) Snowmelt from the mountains created this wide riverbed. The trail was difficult to follow through the canyon with the footpath often submerged in wetlands. It was even more difficult to follow across the sandy riverbed because the snowmelt swept away trail markers every spring. Fortunately, the guidebook directed me to some red rock outcrops where the PCT turned to cross the canyon.
But then I came to the Whitewater River itself -- a raging torrent of icy water thigh and sometimes waist deep! I hunted up and down the banks and found a spot where a long log had wedged in some rapids, allowing me to wade the river holding onto the log. Here's my tent next to the spot where I crossed, with the log visible. (Whitewater River.)
The trail began to ascend more steeply the next day when it started to follow Mission Creek, its route for the next twelve miles or so. Not only was it up, up, up but the PCT forded Mission Creek over twenty times! Again, I often held onto logs as I walked through the cold and fast waters of the creek. (Mission Creek with log.) It was days before my boots dried out. But it was beautiful camping in the narrow canyon shaded by cottonwoods and sycamores and dotted with flowers. (Lupine; prickly-pear cactus.)
One morning a hiker by the name of Dave caught up with me, quite agitated. He was in his tent at dusk the day before when he heard a sound. He looked out at a mountain lion about five feet away! It slowly retreated but kept staring at him. He held up his trekking poles to appear larger and the cat eventually left.
The guidebook mentioned that cattle no longer grazed along Mission Creek because a wildlife group called the Wildlands Conservancy purchased some inholdings within the wilderness, including the grazing rights to BLM land. Thank you, my friends.
It took me three days to ascend the 5,000' up Mission Creek. It was slow and hard going. I stopped early one day and chatted with a hiker who got lost for five hours trying to cross Whitewater Canyon and ford the river. Mosquitoes were also aggressive for a day. The creek became even more pretty as it turned into cascades and finally narrowed down to a spring. (Sign.) At long last the PCT reached high country again, with snow nearby on Ten Thousand Foot Ridge. (Tree against snow.)
Sadly, time had run out on my hike in S. CA; I had to return to the Bay area to do this journal and tend to some other obligations. However, I was satisfied with this end point because I had completed almost three hundred miles of the PCT and had seen great beauty and met the challenges of terrain and weather.
My last night I camped in a meadow at the headwaters of the Santa Ana River. The breezes were very cool coming down off the snow on San Gorgonio Mountain. It was amazing that just days earlier I had been hiking across sandy desert in triple-digit heat. That's the wonderful diversity of the PCT!
I exited the next day down the Santa Ana River Trail to Highway 38, also called the "Rim of the World," close to Big Bear Lake. My goal was to hitch-hike down the mountain into the 1-10 corridor where I could rent a car and drive back home. This was my first attempt to thumb a ride on this trip and I had no idea what to expect. Fortunately, I had a secret weapon -- a purple bandana given us at the Kick-Off with the slogan "Hiker to Town." This was a gift to the Class of 2005 from Gottago. (PK with bandana.)
I stepped to the side of the road and held out my slogan. Within fifteen minutes a van stopped and the driver welcomed me warmly inside. They were an older couple from Big Bear Lake -- Alice and Laney -- who regularly helped out PCT hikers. In fact, they had been to the Kick-Off and recognized the bandana! They drove me all the way down the mountain, located a rental car outlet and took me to its door -- another blessing from trail angels.
On the way through L.A. I visited my cousin Mike Chieffo, an accomplished actor, and went for a hike with him on the PCT in the Angeles National Forest past big pines down to the lush Rattlesnake Creek. Here's Mike against the backdrop of Twin Peaks in the San Gabriel Wilderness. (Mike and mountains; sign.) As a thank-you present for the hospitality of Mike -- and his wife, Beth Grant, also a superb actress, and daughter Mary -- I brought them an overside Coulter pine cone from the woods as a centerpiece for their dining room table.
posted by peterkirby at
8:37 AM
