Days 3-6, Miles 26-91: Ups and Downs
The PCT is climbing, but the challenges are bringing rewards. On Day 3, our group broke camp before dawn, hitting the trail as the morning sun began to set a soft glow on the horizon. From our campsite just above 3,000 feet, we climbed steadily throughout the morning, a welcome warm-up after our shivering emergence from our tents a few hours before. By mid-morning, we had climbed to above a mile in elevation, and valleys and gorges opened up below us. Craggy red rock formations captured our attention. Though precipitous, the hike was not particularly strenuous.
Unlike the Appalachian Trail, the PCT makes its climbs in switchbacks, snakelike twists and turns that meander up the mountain in a gentle grade. Switchbacks aren't the most direct way to get over a mountain—in the space of an hour, you might find yourself hiking in every direction on the compass. But they more than make up for their inefficient route by saving the legs and lungs.
As we climbed the mountains, we saw pitched boulders and steep slopes high above us. Below us was rockfall and thick brush. But in front of us was a flat, 18-inch ribbon of dirt, escorting us through the range. As the day heated up, we were grateful for a gusty wind that kept us cool as we climbed near 6,000 feet. Before long, we dipped into a little valley with grass, budding trees and a small stream where we refilled our water. Later, as we climbed once again, we looked in vain for shade in which to take a break. The trail was surrounded by chest-high shrubs that cast no shadow in the overhead sun. Finally, after several miles, we spotted a tree a few hundred feet off the trail where we ate, napped and waited out the heat of the day. After our siesta, we walked the last few miles to Mt. Laguna, where a general store would replenish our provisions. We passed through another wooded valley, with plenty of shade and fields of blue wildflowers. After buying enough food to take us further down the trail, we secured a site in a campground just off the trail and walked to a nearby tavern for burgers and beers (Yes, that's two burgers in two days. I may gain weight on this hike). On Day 4, we again set out early and legged out 11 miles before our lunch siesta. We lost Steph, who stayed in Mt. Laguna to rest, but picked up Matt, who hails from Washington state. A few miles in, we came across the most spectacular view of the trail so far.
The trail rounded a bend and opened up to a rocky outcropping. Below us, stretching for miles and miles, was a flat, almost totally barren valley floor. Rising dramatically on the far side were the peaks of a large mountain chain. The foothills of the mountains we were hiking edged down to the valley like stair steps. We spent much of the rest of the day skirting the valley's western rim, following a sidewinding trail that kept us high on the mountainside.
Our group had its second member earn a trail name, as Ben was dubbed "El Tigre" for the cinnamon-scented Tiger Balm ointment he puts on his sore muscles. During our midday siesta, we met the strangest character on the trail so far. A 60-something man ambled over to us, paraphernalia dangling off his pack in straps and swaying in front of his torso. A solar panel dangled precariously atop his pack. He told us his name was Bill, and he had already been pulled off the trail once when his unstaked tent blew away, earning him the trail name Dorothy. After a four-day hiatus in town to recover from the tent mishap, he had returned to the trail with $800 of new gear. He said an outfitter had told him his 65-pound base weight was not feasible (by comparison, my base weight is 17 pounds). Finally geared up and ready to hit the trail a third time, Bill/Dorothy got a ride to the trailhead and started off, only to realize he'd left his hiking poles in the car. He had to turn around and head back into town to recover them. Within five minutes we also knew everything about Bill/Dorothy's career as a trial lawyer, his two heart valve surgeries, sleep apnea and various other ailments. We met Bill/Dorothy just before noon on our hike, but it had taken him two days to walk the same distance. Despite his two-hour head start during our siesta, we soon caught up to him when we hit the trail in the afternoon. Soon after, as we were filtering water in a small stream, Bill/Dorothy came down the trail and asked for "a sip" from Piotr's filter bottle. Without hesitating, he grabbed the bottle, put the filter in his mouth and downed the whole liter. We passed him again soon after and did not look back. That night, we camped on a section of trail with limited camping options, so we had to carry five liters of water each four miles to a dry site. A fierce wind buffeted us as we tried to set up our tents and prepare dinner before the sun dipped below the horizon. After our first 20 mile day, we were exhausted and struggled through the motions of setting up camp. Then Cody went into the bushes to relieve himself and emerged wearing an oversized cowboy hat he had found on the ground, giving us enough comic relief to finish out the day. The wind whipped the tents around hard enough that I had to put in headphones to sleep, but my little tent held its own. At 3 a.m., I emerged from my tent to relieve myself and witnessed one of the most brilliant fields of stars I've ever seen. The cloudy swath of the Milky Way stretched across the sky. I stared up, transfixed, for awhile, before I remembered I was standing in an open field in my underwear in a howling wind. On day 5, we finally achieved our "10 by 10" mantra. All week, we'd been trying to hit 10 miles before 10 a.m. On this day, we took down our tents in the dark and cruised through winding downhill ridges with a strong wind keeping us cool.
After the 10-mile mark, the easy hiking came to an end, as we went up and down the rocky foothills of the mountains on our way into the valley. The trail offered us little shade, until we came across an overhanging boulder to take a water break.
I saw my first rattlesnake on the hike, thankfully several yards off the trail under a bush, warning us with its rattle not to venture closer. The last three miles ran straight through the valley, a barren, dusty stretch with no shade and a steady wind blowing dust in our faces. Our third trail name came when we reached the end of our hike, as the trail met a road. Matt, our new addition, said he had heard trail angels were grilling barbecue for hikers at the road, which had kept us invigorated throughout the hike and motivated us to complete the 16-mile trek by 1 p.m. We reached the underpass, flopped down in the shade, and learned the barbecue had actually been the day before. Crestfallen, we dubbed Matt "Underpass" for getting our hopes up in vain.
At the road, a man with a bushy white beard and a NASCAR hat pulled up and offered us a ride into town in his van. In any other circumstance, this would have been creepy, but this being the PCT, we greeted our new friend Ed with gratitude and crammed seven filthy hikers into his minivan. In Julian, we were treated to free pie and ice cream at a local hiker-friendly establishment. After restocking our food, we started walking to the edge of town to hitchhike out to a campground. Before we even got one block or put our thumbs out, a man in a pickup pulled up and asked if we needed a ride. We hopped in the bed of his truck and made the 20-minute ride to the campground.
The campground was dusty and windy, but we were able to get showers and do some laundry, both of which were big morale boosts. We went to sleep with the wind again flapping our tents, but excited for a lazy morning before a late afternoon trail start the next day. Our first "nearo" was Day 6. A nearo is a "near zero" day, in which most of the day is spent off the trail, with a few hours hiking in the morning or evening. We spent most of the day lounging on a sheltered porch, hiding from the wind that blew sand sideways across the valley. We said our goodbyes to Underpass, who wanted to get an early start and headed back to the trail. Around 2, we hitchhiked (shockingly easy in trail towns) back to the trail and set out. With the next water source 14 miles away, we had to make miles before dark. After 24 hours off the trail, our legs were reinvigorated and felt better than they had since Day 1. We made good progress along the trail, a winding climb cut into steep mountainsides. The hike featured nearly 3,000 feet of elevation gain, but on fresh legs we made quick work of it.
The only thing that slowed our progress was when I clumsily stepped on a cactus and had to spend 10 minutes pulling needles out of my foot and shoe.
Still, we pulled into our campsite right as the sun began to set.
Tomorrow, we'll hit Mile 100, a big milestone for us and also a daunting reminder that all we've done so far is just a tiny fraction of the 2,650 mile PCT. But those remaining 2,550 miles are problems for another day, and from this mountainside tent, I'd say we're off to a good start.