30 May. Mile 789: Kearsarge Pass to Independence.

This is a lengthy post.  I have some daily trip comments.  This latest part of the trip has been packed.

Wed 20 May: Morning started with a 4am alarm to catch a 5:15am bus from Lake Isabella back to Walker Pass and the PCT en route to the town of Ridgecrest.  My fellow passengers were six other hikers; the soundtrack for the ride was Eric Clapton Unplugged, which the driver played over the speakers.  On the trail that day, I had twenty other hikers pass by me; the number of persons on the trail where I am hiking has gone up dramatically.  After a week at sea level, it was a very difficult day hiking back at a mile high altitude with significant ups and downs, hauling multiple liters of water.

Thu 21 May: Body felt much better today, after 24 hours at altitude.  In the afternoon, during a long, long descent,  there were thunderstorms only a few miles ahead.  The nighttime temperature were freezing, as evidenced by the ice on my tent the next morning.

Fri 22 May: Rain drizzle throughout the day.  Arrived midday at Kennedy Meadows, a very small community considered the gateway to the higher elevations of the Sierras.  There were over forty hikers at the general store, eating, drinking, standing around the furnace to stay warm, and standing in line for the washing machine or shower.  I had a hot lunch, resupplied, and pushed on into the drizzle.  The rain cleares up, but it was another cold night.

Sat 23 May: Made it to 10,000 feet.  Part of what people must enjoy about the Sierras is the separateness of the environment.  You have all of these pine-covered peaks with periodic alpine meadows.  Unlike the earlier trail sections, where you looked down on the interstates, or sea level, the Sierras are a separate world.

Sun 24 May: I had realized that I might be slightly short on food.  I decided to drop down to the Horseshoe Meadows campground, two miles off the trail, to see if any trail angels might be about on Memorial Day weekend.  The campground was pretty quiet.  I ran into a group of four friends down from San Jose planning to summit Mount Whitney on Monday; they noted it had snowed the night before (though the snow had all melted).  They were kind enough to provide some water (the camp water had been shut off due to the drought), and a few granola bars.  It's challenging to carry enough food to provide 2,000, let alone 2,500 calories, per day when you're carrying for 5+ days with limited space in a bear canister (required in the Sierras). My appetite has increased; while hiking, I'm basically eating something every two hours.

Mon 25 May: I was a bit surprised that more hikers coming out of Kennedy Meadows hadn't passed me.  Quiet day hiking through more pine-covered slopes.

Tue 26 May: Probably the most packed day I've had.  Given the continued freezing nights, I'd decided to try and up my mileage to try and get to my next resupply point, Independence, a day earlier.  The scenery made dramatic changes several times this day, as I worked my way through Sequoia National Park into Kings Canyon National Park.  In particular, I hiked over Forrester Pass, the highest point on the PCT, and a challenging obstacle given the north face remained completely covered in snow; snow hiking is slow and challenging, as you don't want to sprain or break anything if your leg goes through the snow.  The pass is the transition point between the parks; on the Kings Canyon side, there are few campsites, and I hiked on until sunset to find a place to stop for the night.

Wed 27 May:  My shoes had frozen overnight; I don't think that's ever happened before.  After a week of freezing nights; of a diet of energy bars, protein bars, and other processed foods; and of hiking around 10,000 feet, my body felt drained and chilled with an upset stomach.  I made my way east over Kearsarge Pass to Independence, which doesn't consist of much more than a few businesses.

Independence isn't the most engaging place to take a break, but that's what I've done.  My body has shown clear signs of stress, so I've gotten some good nights of sleep (at warm temperatures; it's been in the nineties/thirties during the day) and have been putting away calories during the day.  My appetite seems endless.  On Saturday, I was able to watch Arsenal's FA Cup victory over Aston Villa (with Prince William in attendance) and the U.S. women's national team final warm-up friendly prior to next week's World Cup kick-off--an unconvincing draw with South Korea.

The weather reports for Sunday call for high winds, including gusts of up to 60mph Sunday night.  Having felt these sorts of winds coming out of Tehachapi, I prefer to avoid them, so it's another day in Independence...

First alpine meadow encountered northbound on PCT

Ubiquitous Sierra pine trees

Up in the clouds

View on the descent approach to Crabtree Meadows.  Mt Whitney lies beyond these peaks

Life representation of PCT crest

The flat landscape of the Bighorn Plateau

Approach to Forrester Pass

Sign on top of Forrester Pass

View of north side of Forrester Pass.  A great deal of snow to navigate

Just after I made my way down the north face of Forrester Pass, clouds covered the pass

Sunset in Kings Canyon park

In the Sierras, water is much more plentiful than in southern California

There are multiple lakes on the trails leading to Kearsarge Pass

Looking west of Kearsarge Pass

Looking east of Kearsarge Pass

19 May. People

While the majority of a PCT hike is spent alone with one's thoughts while walking on the trail or resting in a sleeping bag/tent, as humans are generally social beings, your interactions with other people greatly impact your experience.

If trends hold, then for 2015, the Pacific Crest Trail Association will have issued over 3,000 permits combined to thru-hikers (planning to complete the entire trail, roughly 60%) and section hikers (targeting more than 500 miles hiking but not the entirety of the trail, roughly 40%).  I expect I'm in the"early" group; the majority of hikers start later in April or May; there's a kickoff event in late April at Lake Morena that attracts thousands of hikers, previous hikers, volunteers, and vendors.

I've met about eighty other hikers on the trail.  Gender percentages are about 75-80% male and 20-25% female.  Age-wise, there seems to be a three-way split between people in their early 20s, in their late 30s/early 40s, and in their sixties; that is, not surprisingly, most hikers are either young (without families or careers) or retired.  Of those I've spoken with in a little more detail, about half of the hikers are from the west coast of the U.S. -- the PCT trail states of California, Oregon, and Washington.

Professional backgrounds are wide-ranging, from engineer to microbiologist to accountant to express delivery driver to temporary worker.  There's even a family of four with two children who are walking north to Canada!  What everyone shares is an enjoyment of maxing out on fresh air and the outdoors while carrying a heavy bag up and down mountains and thinking about finding water.

At this time of the season, you predominantly run into other hikers not hiking on the trail itself but rather stopping at water sources, resupply towns, and at "trail angels" who open their homes (or, most often yards) to hikers for the night.  Hikers will chat about the trail; how much water you're carrying, how far you're going that day, the gear you're using, the weather.

Trail angels hosting hikers for the night are a marvel of generosity.  While there will be rules, and while they may be dependent on monetary donations, all of these angels will be donating their time every single evening during hiking season to supporting complete strangers on their hikes. Sometimes there are showers, sometimes food, sometimes transport to resupply, and sometimes all three.  For hikers, after days in the wilderness, even a brief contact with civilization can be rejuvenating.  The best night of sleep that I've had on the trail was in the Anderson's backyard in Green Valley, in spite of the cold and the blazing full moon.  I suspect that this was because of the camaraderie that evening with the other half-dozen hikers and the genuine warmth of the Andersons and their nightly hosted "taco salad"/burritos.  The Andersons have hosted thousands of hikers over 15 years; their home, Casa De Luna, provides self-described "hiker daycare" and has been called affectionately a vortex, with the backyard also earning nicknames, including Narnia.

Other trail angels provide "trail magic", where you find unexpected water and other beverages and snacks on the trail, and sometimes even seating.

Of course, the trail looms over all of this, as all hiker conversations end with people returning to their hikes.  I hit the trail again on Wednesday, to climb into the Sierra Nevada and the crown jewels of the National Parks in California -- Kings Canyon, Sequioa, and Yosemite.  The trail will change in character, as water sources will be much more frequent and elevations much higher -- on the order of ten thousand feet, rather than five-six thousand.  Data connections will be few and far between, so I expect long gaps in my blog updates.

10 May. Mile 652: Walker Pass. Elements

A combination of a slow writer, no off days, and a four day stretch without cell service has left a gap in my blog.  It's been an eventful trip since Green Valley, particularly with the weather.  After spending two nights with "trail angels" (more to come in a separate post), the treck into Kern County, California has been marked by exposure to a sequential set of elements.  First, the sun, as there was a full day treck across flat, shadeless desert land heading into the Tehachapi Mountains.  Next, the wind, as the pass between where the Tehachapi Mountains end and the Sierra Nevada range starts is the location of one of the largest wind turbine farms in the world.  What I imagine were 60 mph winds snatched away my sunhat in my ascent (lesson for me; put my hat away during those kind of winds.  My temporary replacement has been wrapping a T-shirt around my head and holding it in place with a headlamp).  Then, snow and ice, as ironically during one of the driest stretches of the trail, I ran into a storm that at peak spots left six inches of snow and hail for me to push through (happily, the daytime air temps in May meant my toes didn't face frostbite).  And then, back to sun, as just a day after trekking through snow, I was hauling 17 pounds of water on my back as I traversed the edge of the Mojave Desert.

It's May in the U.S., and a number of hikers are temporarily leaving the trail to attend events like weddings and graduations.  I, too, am taking a temporary break (as I'd been planning from the start) to close out some administrative and logistical items that I couldn't complete prior to commencing my hike.

When I return to the trail and head into the Sierras, I'll leave behind the relatively widespread cell coverage of southern California, and blog updates will be much more infrequent, on a par with this gap.

Aqueduct, sending water south to Los Angeles

Joshua Tree

On the left, a Joshua tree apart from the pack.  Sadly, for U2 fans, these streets do have names.  This road eventually turns into Aqueduct Road.

Wind farm, south of the Tehachapi Mountains

Wind farm, north of the Tehachapis

High altitude pine forest, Kern County

Pacific Crest Trail marker.  The crest at the top is a favorite sight for PCT hikers -- it shows you haven't strayed from the path

Western side of Mojave Desert.  Luckily, temperatures on this day were mild, and there was a breeze

30 April. Mile 458: North of Agua Dulce.

30 April.  Mile 458: North of Agua Dulce.

The hiking through the San Gabriel Mountains has been challenging.  More elevation swings, two nights of high winds, three days of dodging poodle dog bush and the rash it induces, and then Wednesday, when in coming down the mountains, hikers run into an eight mile stretch without shade and with white slopes that further reflect the sun at you.  I've had some kind of virus the past two days, with fatigue, slight nausea, and some sneezing and congestion.

Wednesday afternoon I spent at the KOA Acton campground; a nice respite, with a shower, laundry time, and snacks.  It was a noisy evening next to a busy road that the locals use to get into LA, and train tracks nearby.

Sleep has been a bit of a challenge on the trail.  I may need to upgrade my sleeping pad to an air pad, which adds comfort at the expense of weight and risk of punctures.  Every night has involved tossing and turning, even when there hasn't been traffic noise or wind shaking the tent.

Thursday afternoon I waited out the heat in the small town of Agua Dulce, where I picked up several days of food and had lunch at the Sweetwater Cafe.

Friday, I'll try to make my way to Casa de Luma, home to trail angels who host hikers in Green Valley.

Pines outside of Wrightwood

View from San Gabriels

Poodle dog bush

Vazquez Rocks Park, outside of Agua Dulce

25 April. Mile 369: Wrightwood. Americana.

I took a "double zero" [two(!) days off without hiking] in Cajon Pass, given forecasts for thunderstorms in Wrightwood on Thursday.  The National Weather Service issued a flash flood warning on Thursday afternoon for an area including Wrightwood, and apparently there was a great deal of rain and even hail in town.

Friday was a 5am start, with a pre-dawn, 1,500 calorie McDonald's breakfast fueling a 25 mile, 13 hour day (breakfast can't have been healthy, but it did help for a long hike).  The early start and cool temperatures during the day allowed me to get to Wrightwood that same evening, despite the extra water I carried (no sources on the way) and the extra time I took to avoid the rash-inducing poodle-dog bush.  I feel like my 2 mile per hour pace is on the slow side.  I'm being passed way more often than passing others.

Wrightwood is another small town on the trail that seems to be doing well.  All the houses and cars seem are up to date and in apple pie order.  There aren't as many for sale signs as elsewhere.  In the compact downtown, there are Saturday morning youth t-ball and softball games at the school ballfields across the street from the elderly cabins of the hotel I'm staying at.  The Wrightwood History Museum provides an overview of the town and region, and the coffee shops are full of locals relaxing on their weekends.  And, like Idyllwild, there are a prominent video store and acupuncturist.  Slice of Americana!

Above the clouds in the San Gabriel Mountains, approaching Wrightwood

In the clouds!

Historic signs at the Wrightwood History Museum

Reflections.

When I left India, I sold or gave away most of my belongings.  Practically speaking, I had nowhere to store them, nor did I have time to receive a shipment in the U.S., as I was planning to hit the trail two weeks after returning.  Many items weren't difficult to part with, but others held more value, and took a second thought or two.  Now, on the trail, I have to carry everything in my pack.  The weight creates incentive to shed belongings, rather than accumulate them.

Still, when stopping in town to resupply, I find shopping fun.  Top of the list is food.  It's challenging to eat enough calories on the trail, so town meals trend toward the super-sized, in response to the body's demand for fuel.  In terms of trail provisions, I've added candy to my mix, and I'm revisiting the sweets of my childhood: Runts, Skittles, jelly beans, and, from the Idyllwild candy emporium, root beer sticks, gum drops, and Choward's violet mints.

The towns so far have been tourist towns.  The local artwork galleries have been a treat for the eyes, which, on the trail, have had an extended break from the dizzying parade of images and text that usually march across glowing screens throughout the day.  The dresses and tops presented for sale, while designed for women, are a stylish contrast to the functional, wickable fabrics and shiny ultralight down jackets of the trail.

Shopping is in particular a break with the daily routine of the trail, which, to my corporate-trained mind, I find myself now thinking as a set of standard operating procedures (in acronym terms, SOPs).  I wake up around 6ish, and, depending on the temperatures, may remain in my sleeping bag for a bit longer.  Then, a cold breakfast in my tend, followed by packing up my sleeping bag, changing clothes, and then repacking my bag and taking down my tent, all in that order, and each step with its own set of sub-routines.  This always seems to take at least an hour.

The day's hike will be on the order of 10-11 hours, including breaks, with planned stops for water and an end point objective in mind.  Throughout the day, I'll consider my pace, distance to travel, and time remaining (like tracking required run rates in limited overs cricket).  At water sources, filtering water requires what I consider its own eight-step procedure (from which when I've deviated I've knocked over the water bottle twice).

At the end of the day, I've often been stretching to the last bit of daylight, so I arrive at a flat piece of ground, put on a jacket, set up my tent, eat some food, and change out of my hiking clothes, exchanging my boots for a pair of Locals flip flops (possibly the unofficial official footware of the Hawaiian Islands), all the while racing against the clock and the cold and wind that have typically accompanied sunset.  In my tent, I plan or rereview the next day's schedule, and then it's a mixed night's sleep, interrupted by the wind or constant shifting in a search for a more comfortable sleeping position.  And then, it's morning, and time to start over again.

I imagine many hikers, after a few weeks, will note that they find something comfortable about the daily routine, and that town stops, while something different, are welcome only as a break, and there's quickly a yearning to return to the trail, and to hiking and to scenery and accompanying thoughts.

21 April. Mile 342: Cajon Pass. Update.

As expected, the terrain out of Big Bear has been less intense.  The last three days have been 20+ miles per day, and, while they have not been painless, they have been manageable.  I've arrived at Cajon Pass, a rest stop on Interstate 15, the route between Los Angeles and Las Vegas.  The next stretch of the trail on paper looks challenging - a 30 mile waterless stretch, with a 5,000+ foot elevation gain, and with the infamous "poodle-dog bush" in the terrain.  The shrub thrives in areas after fires and causes severe irritation if touched, apparently much worse than poison ivy or poison oak.

The weather cooled significantly today, though, and rain is in the forecast, so I might end up waiting out the rain.

Mission Creek

Big Bear Lake

Up in the clouds, overlooking Silverwood Lake

This seemed to be a picturesque stretch of the PCT