Sorry folks, these are from a quite a while ago.  It just took me a while to put them up.  These entries shall be entitled 'the forgotten days.'

 

 

Day 7, April 29: Mile 105.5-115.5 (Agua Caliente Creek to Eagle Rock)

Woke up early and took obligatory pictures at Eagle Rock, which is a rock formation that looks shockingly similar to an eagle with its wings spread ready to take flight. Quick hike through pastures with lots of up close and personal cow encounters led us to Warner Springs, CA where a temporary store was set up for hikers. Ate a few meals there (my hunger is becoming very impressive), took a shower (with my clothes on, double duty) and then got ready to head back out onto the trail. Side note: the soap that was provided at Warner Springs was Axe body wash. No discernable effect on my attractiveness to the opposite sex. Met a girl who was carrying a small foghorn at the request of her father. I could sympathize. If I carried everything that my father requested, my pack would weigh 100 pounds and would include hundreds of rounds of ammunition, a rifle, a flare gun, an emergency fire shelter, and a loggers saw. I love you, Dad. I know you are just worried about me. 

About gear: My shelter is a tarp with netting attached to the bottom of it to protect against tics and ants. All included with ground sheet, stakes, and poles, it weighs right under 1 pound. Sounds great, yeah? One drawback: the material is translucent. Completely see through--which of course provides me with zero privacy and also forces me to wake up at 0630, when the sun starts blazing. Often I have not even bothered to set up my tent and have just laid down on my groundsheet and pad ie: cowboy camping. The base weight of my pack (everything I am carrying minus food and water) is a hair under 12 pounds. I am carrying 1-4 liters of water at a time, and with food I am never carrying more than 35 pounds, and most often a lot less than that. After leaving Warner Springs I hiked up a long ridge and camped next to a creek. After an hour or two Jason, a guy from TX and Jim, an older gentleman from San Diego caught up and camped as well. Jess made it to camp after dark and we all sat around eating and talking before calling it a night.

Day 8, April 30: Mile 115.5-135 (Caliente Creek to Pike Gate after Trail Angel Mike’s house)

Spent much of the day hiking with Foghorn (previously mentioned girl). Jess. And Jenna, a girl from Olympia. Jess spent an hour or so telling crazy stories about growing up with horses and running away from home riding bareback on a horse and her kinship with horses and other generally weird horse people type stuff so we have started to call her Horses. We are all starting to look pretty filthy. The men’s beards are starting to look wilderness worthy, the women’s leg hair is sprouting, and we are all covered in layers of grime. The water sources in the desert are typically giant horse troughs full of some nightmarish array of dissolved poisons and tasting like rusty pipes. And the water is limited, so baths are few and far between. I am wearing breathable minimalist running shoes and thin liner socks, which has paid great dividends with avoiding blisters, but when I take my shoes off, my feet are black. The thinness of my shoes forces me to be very careful with my steps, which others have noticed, so I have been nicknamed Bambi for my “dainty little Bambi steps.” Could be worse I suppose. A few years ago a hiker was named “Crap Bag” for attempting to go poop in a zip lock back in their tent to avoid going outside with a driving rain storm. They missed the bag and ended up getting poop all over their sleeping bag and gear. I have had some pretty great camping mishaps so far. Top 5: 1) Sleeping on an ant hill and waking up covered in ants (ants are EVERYWHERE out here!) 2) Laying my backpack on an ant hill. When I put it on It felt like grass was stuck to my back. I scratch and look at my hand: covered in writhing any bodies. 3) smearing poop on my knuckles while squatting down and wiping. 4) Endless bloody noses from picking. Desert hiking: dust boogers. 5) There are limited places to cover and go #2 in the desert, so one day I headed off into some manzanita bushes ti use their cover to poop. Upon getting into the bushes, I witness another hiker squatting down and actively shitting. Not wanting to be noticed, I tried to kneel down and hide. While doing that, I rustled some bushes and he looked back at me and made eye contact. I looked like a dook watcher. I have seen him on trail numerous times. Neither of us have spoken of it. Easy hiking. Stopped off at the house of Mike Herrera who is a local guy who helps hikers to pick up water. Let me paint you this scene. We come up over a ridge and are greeted with hand painted signs saying “Water! This way! Come here hikers!” and arrows pointing to a side trail we headd down it and see what looks like an entire flea market condensed into a small lot. Stero equipment left and right. Hundereds of grain mills, and enough exercise equipment prepare a country’s Olympic team. We are greeted by a guy named “Cushie” who has the glazed eyes of a long time stoner and an enormous black bong in his left hand. He says he is the caretaker of Mike’s property. Very nice guy, but if Mike trusts him to be he true care taker, he must be a very eccentric guy. We are treated to burgers and water and hike on for a few miles before camping.

Day 9 May 1st: Mile 135 Pike Gate to Mile 152 Paradise Cove

Easy hiking today, but we had to deal with  water haul to avoid some of the murkiest trail water yet. Wait until you see the pictures. In one of the cases I come across what looks like an abandoned parking lot in the middle of the desert. Upon closer inspection I see a hump on one side of it, about the size of a commercial propane tank, and with numerous cracks and holes in it that were makeshift covered with pieces of fiber glass. Next to it was a long spool of barbed wire attached to a gallon milk jug with the top cut off. To help aid fishing water out of the hole in the tank..  I fished some “water” out, and I use the term water very loosely here, and found a sulfur smelling slurry that was closer to the color of cheap domestic beer. The rest of the day was spent walking alone imagining food I would be eating if I was in town, singing songs to myself, and coming up with interesting things to say for the next time I ran into another hiker. At the end of the day the trail bisects a highway and thes is a café a short distance away. In the desert, hikers are like roaches: search around any place with shade or where food is left out and you are certain to find some. I walk up and spy on some hikers to sit with. My tally for the evening: three meals, plus a large side of sweet potato fries. Sweet. Sweet. Hiker hunger. At night, the owner of the café let six of us camp on the porch of the restaurant. Sounded nice, but I was next to a few snorers and 40mph winds were blowing constantly throughout the night.

Day 10 May2md Paradise Valley Cafe(Mile 151.9- Mile 170.9)

Some thoughts from the hobo camp out last night: Hiking in the desert just like hiking anywhere else except that it is very hot, there is no shade, and all of the water is terrible and very scarce. Today I am climbing up onto the San Jacinto mountains, which rise some 10,000ft above the desert floor. I climbed up from chapporal and sage up to cedar and pine. Once on the ridge you could look thousands of feet below and see Palm Springs. It is the most bizarre mental gymnastics to be up in the mountains, being cold and whipped by wind and looking thousands of feet below into the scorching, Blank, desert floor. Getting temporarily about the desert provided me some time to thikn about my experiences so far: I can feel myself getting mentally much stronger, knowing how to match small herdles or adversities. I feel a greater closness to my body: exactly how much food I need, how much water, when to rest. I have never felt more connected to the present, probably since all thinking is done in the present.  When I can eat, when I can drink, where is more water, when I can buy food, ect ect. One of the most memorable guys I have met on the trail so far is a 72 year old man with the nickname “Ice Cream Man.” His secret for hiking from Mexico to Canada? Daily Yoga. I am in the mountains, everything is nice, blah, blah. I am tired and all out of words. 

Day 11 (170.9-179--Devil’s side trail to Idyllwild) 

Town today! Woke up early and hiked a quick ten miles into town. Shower. Pizza (an entire 16” pizza to myself) Laundry (Wore my rain gear while the rest of my clothes were washing. Do you know how hot it is in the Southern California sun with rain gear? REALLY  HOT! All of the other laundry people look at me like I am from another planet as I sit here profusely sweating. Tonight will be more food. Hanging out with hiker trash, and buying supplies for next day.