Canyons, Prisoners and Camping in the Lions Den..

After a hectic morning of breakfast, post-officing, shoe swapping and negotiating a ride I was on my way. The sun was shining and the vibe at the trailhead was drastically different than when I was rescued from a potential lion attack a few days prior. I laced up my new-to-me sneakers and took off.

Three guys who had ridden along also took off...almost running. This is when I learned about "slackpacking." So slackpacking is basically when you keep your full pack in a town and make day trips out with the bare necessities, like a bottle of water, and you hike during the day without any weight on your back before returning to the comfort of your prearranged lodging that evening. I was pretty skeptical and my immediate thought was FUCK these guys! Why not just hire a sherpa? This is totally cheating, and if it's not cheating it's just dick-ish.. How dare they just prance past all the other hikers and call themselves the same! So as they scurried off into the distance there I stood with 30 pounds on my back, fuming. Possibly jealous, definitely feeling like a chump with my full bag on I thought about this for a long time and contemplated the ethics of all the different types of hikers who at the end of the day will all call themselves the same thing: thru-hikers. Is an assisted hike any less valid than unassisted? Would anyone argue that slackpacking was not considered assisted? Is it just smarter? But the most important question was: Should I care? And the answer was no. No I shouldn't care, and after a few more miles I decided to try really hard not to care.

I hiked up the hill, feeling heavier than ever with 5 days worth of food and 3 liters of water. I could look down and see what used to be a lake and it threw the drought into sharper perspective.

I hiked the rest of the day without seeing any other hikers, though I did come across two exotic girls in bikinis who were asking directions in broken English to Bertha peak (sincere apologies, I did not get pictures). I had to giggle thinking how unlucky the guys hiking that day were to have not had the fortune to see these half-naked girls, and instead their looks were wasted on me! Maybe if they had carried their shit with them they'd have been there... ;)

Perhaps it was my cynical mood from earlier in the day but I started to think after 10 miles, this is the first day I haven't been blown away by the scenery, the first day I feel like I am really just hiking to get somewhere else and not to see my surroundings. And of course, as only the PCT can do so well, I walked around a bend and was met by an intensely pretty view of Big Bear Lake. You win, PCT, you win!

The other hikers I assumed were camping at the water source ahead and I rounded out 19 miles before stopping at the inexplicably empty campsite. I set up camp, fixed dinner and settled in to snore the bears away.

I took off the next morning well after the sun had come up and flowed over the easy grade at a quick pace, stopping only to of course photograph all the little things along the way that caught my eye such as this intensely textured fruit casing...

I still hadn't seen the other hikers, I started late so this was normal for me. I made up miles quickly in the mornings and then casually rounded out my days in the afternoons. As I crossed over Deep Creek I started descending. As I followed Deep Creek I stayed about 100 feet up the gorge wall, always able to look down at all the perfect little beaches and swimming holes but far too exhausted to justify scrambling down and back up. I was comforted a bit in my inability to reach the perfect pools by the weather turning and clouding up, getting colder.

I collapsed, exhausted and inspired at the 300 mile mark. When I'm really worn out I tend to sit down like an old man; A long grimacing crouching down followed by a little crash landing and a sigh. There was a pile of little rocks in disarray on the trail and I assumed a local (frequent visitors to the creek) had messed up the 300 sign, so I used the opportunity to take a break and sit and reconstruct it.

My goal had been a campsite at 306, where I was assuming the hikers I knew would be (Sigrid and a Washingtonian named Russ). But alas, the weather was getting ugly and when I passed a flat spot in a little nook at mile 304 on the otherwise inhospitable stretch of trail I jumped on it. About the time I set up the tent it started to rain. I had moved about 50 feet away to cook and eat and as I sat there in the light rain eating my mashed potatoes I watched as the wind whipped at my tent. I was too tired to go restake it, I just watched until I finished eating. Its tough to successfully stake a tent in sandy spots like these. I had placed my pack in the tent so all the wind could do was make it bounce around as if possessed. I finished eating, carried 6 large rocks over to place over the repositioned stakes and crawled inside. The sky opened and the rain didn't stop all night. It was one of the most peaceful nights I've ever had, all alone in the middle of the wilderness, snuggled up warm in my down bag with a full belly as the rain tapped on my tent.

Waking up the next morning I could see where it had snowed just a couple miles back and I was glad I had made it past that.

I followed the trail down to a bend in the river where there was a hot spring. Everyone had talked about this hot spring and had encouraged me to spend a little time there but the only two people there were two older naked men leaned up against a stone ledge waving slowly at me with blank faces. I waved politely and hiked on..

The second half of the hike along the creek was clearly through a section frequented by the local idiots as proven by the spray paint and beer bottles strewn about. Such a shame to have such a beautiful place tagged with shitty graffiti and littered by people who go there because of its beauty and uniqueness, and then trash it.

The canyon widened and when I had almost reached the end I came across a prison work group that passed me on a very narrow stretch of trail. Its strange to be greeted by 30 apparently sex-starved men who made eyes and even whispered comments at someone like me- a hiker covered in dirt, sweat and smelling terrible... I must've been upwind.

After that encounter I came to the end of the canyon and the view opened up. I scanned the horizon for the famous trailside McDonald's, but I was still too far away... The view was pretty incredible, even without the double arches.

I ran into the Lion Tamer (Sigrid) at the water source around the next bend and we sat for a minute to catch up. I was right, she had camped only one mile ahead of me each night! I knew she couldn't be much further. We loosely decided to hike together and set off with the goal of making it from where we were at 314 to a campsite at a lake at 326. The weather was spotty but we pushed on.

Sigrid is a quick-stepping hiker and she took off and I tried to keep up. We walked for a couple miles until it switched to uphill, at which point we swapped back and forth between leading and resting. My ankle was starting to bother me, but nothing serious. The biggest pain was in my feet. There's a pressure that builds in your feet that doesn't clear up, and I hear it won't ease up until I'm done with the hike. 20 miles of pounding on your feet with so much weight- you're really just not going to get used to that.

We made it to mile 322 and a conversation with another hiker lit the fire under us. He said the camp at 326 would be very packed since there were 20 or so hikers behind us with the same idea for a camp spot. We took off, we needed to get there first and stake our claim!

We wound our way through the hills and when we hit 324.5 I hit a wall. There was a steep, brief climb that zapped my energy. I was too tired to freak out when I crested the hill and saw one of the most stunning views on the trail yet, the lake. I stood there silently taking it in before forcing my feet to carry on.

From our vantage point on the ridge above the lake we could see the open shelters comprising the proposed camping spot. It looked 20 miles away! I sucked it up and tried to follow Sigrid. I was limping but she was at full stride and every corner I turned I could see her getting further and further ahead. Although I was tired I was not so confident stopping along any of the beaches along the shore of the lake. There was evidence of locals, trashy locals, and I didn't feel safe alone there at night. Rednecks and assholes are far scarier than bears and mountain lions..

As I finally limped around the corner at mile 326.5 I saw the arrow drawn in the sand that pointed down to the picnic shelter campground where I knew Sigrid had gone. I had been eyeing the lake and I couldn't see any other tents there, and I was skeptical of wether this was a place that allowed camping. It was about a 200 foot climb down and I decided to push on and look for another spot. After another steep climb I crested a ridge and saw, yet again, an amazing view that could have made the cover of any number of travel magazines.

As beautiful as it was I was also looking at a trail on the side of a steep slope that offered no camping. I had already hiked 22 miles and my feet were swollen and painful, despite my ibuprofen (or as hikers call it: vitamin I) intake. I had heard from KC that she had camped the previous night near 329 so I hiked on. The fact that her text was actually to the effect that she had seen a mountain lion freely roaming at a campsite at mile 329 didn't matter...all that mattered to me and my feet was that there was camping there. I was tired enough to sleep with lions if I had to..

I could see the snow starting to fall on the tops of the mountains across the lake but the sun managed to stay in a small opening in the clouds, lighting my way in beautiful golden light. 

I briefly forgot the pain in my feet and pushed on another few miles to the base of the hill at the Silverwood Lake Rec Area where I pitched my tent in a hidden clearing. A 24 mile day and I was ready to snooze. I slept well in anticipation of the following day's hike, the final push in the trek toward the mythical burgers and fries...