Big Bear City to Mt. Baden-Powell
Wednesday, 5/3/00: In Which I Visit Big Bear City and Head Back to the Trail
Resupply always saps my enthusiasm. I don’t know whether it is inherent in civilization or the hassle it is while you’re in town. I had a hard time starting in the AM but finally started walking the dirt road to town about 8. The only vehicle to pass (a pickup) gave me a ride about ½ way down to the paved highway. From there I walked another mile or so to town.
First to the Post Office, then laundromat, then phone (great to hear from Ellie again) and then store (where I got a pound of carrots and some V8 juice). On the way back out of town I stopped at a park to drink the juice, eat some carrots and inhale the crumbs the Post Office made of the Ak Maks. The walk back up the hill was long and hot (no vehicles on the road this time so I hoofed it). By the time I pumped water from the creek and took off it was 1:30.
Whether it was talking to Ellie, escaping from town or just eagerness to be hiking, I was able to cover 11 miles in four hours. Along the way I had some nice views of Big Bear Lake with snow-topped mountains in the background.
I stopped at Little Bear Springs Trail Camp, supposedly a hotbed of the motocross crowd, but the only noise I heard has come from the birds. And it is convenient to have a picnic table and good-tasting piped water. I just hope Little Bear doesn’t decide to make an appearance.
Thursday, 5/4/00: In Which I Travel Through the Willow Burn Area and Visit the Hot Springs
No bear or other creature made an appearance during the night. In fact, I have been surprised how “wild” the wildlife is in Southern California — no animals begging or hanging around, even in the popular areas.
Geographically the hike for the next day or so is down Holcomb Creek (100 yards from where I slept) to Deep Creek and follow its canyon to the Great Mojave Dam. An hour or so into the day’s walk I ran into signs of the Willow Burn, a huge fire that closed the PCT last fall. It was just reopened a couple of weeks ago, supposedly after repairing the fire damage of which I saw little.
Like much of the ground I have seen in Southern California, this area was chaparral, brush that in a “normal” cycle burns periodically. According to my source with CDF it is common to do control burns in these types of areas so that the brush doesn’t get so big that it leads to huge conflagrations. So while some pines and oak did burn, many of the trees near water in the creek areas survived. And in the burned areas the wildflowers are blooming and the chaparral is starting to come back.
The trail curves back and forth across Holcomb Creek, but Deep Creek was another story. A 90-foot bridge arched over to the west side and I marched along that side of the canyon the rest of the day. The trail averaged 200 to 300 feet above the creek, so while you were walking along you were never at the stream. The trail was crumbling in several places due to unstable rocks and I suspect it was that and the general degradation of the area caused by the next topic that really caused the trail closure.
About 22 miles into the day’s trek (I was moving well) I arrived at Deep Creek Hot Springs. Some view it as once of the highlights of the PCT while others view it as a breeding ground for a rare but deadly disease. Despite the guidebook warning of crowds (seems like a 12-mile round trip hike would discourage some) there were only a couple of people there. It was a little cleaner than I expected, but had that typical grungy, overused hot springs look. I took a quick soak in one pool which had a good flow of water (it needed it to clean itself of my sweat and trail grime) and wasn’t too slimy. As I expected, no camping was allowed, so I put on clean clothes and headed on.
Given I was walking along canyon walls, camping spots were hard to come by. I almost stopped near the second bridge that crosses the creek, but in the only area large enough to lay my sleeping bag a small rattlesnake was resting, so I decided I could probably do better elsewhere. I eventually found a small terrace above the creek, which only had the drawback of being full of ants. Have I mentioned yet that numerically ants have to be the most common creature on the PCT? Their hills pop up everywhere on the trail tread and in most likely camp areas. I read once that the ant/termite family makes up most of the mass of animals (i.e., non-plant living things).
Friday, 5/5/00: In Which Having Had Such a Poor Day on the Trail I Spend the Night There Too
The ants left me alone, and I slept pretty well, getting up by 5:40 and going within an hour or so. The trail on this side of the canyon seemed odd, and reading the guidebook I found it is built on top of an old aqueduct. That historical note doesn’t seem to faze the hot springers who are destroying the trail by cutting switchbacks and using the rocks for graffiti.
At the end of the canyon is a huge public works boondoggle — a mile long flood control dam on the wild raging West Fork of the Mojave River. The dam is used so often that the PCT is routed below the spillway and base of the dam. There is a trickle of water in the West Mojave and it smells bad.
Climbing away from there across a State Highway that I would see again later, I wandered through the chaparral for a few hours, finally reaching a dam being used to create Lake Silverwood (part of the California Aqueduct System). To avoid the dam and the Mojave Siphon Power Project the trail is routed on to the State Highway for a pleasant half-mile of whizzing cars and roadside litter. From there you head back through the brush to wander above the lake which is huge and takes most of the afternoon to get around. But it just doesn’t feel right to be wandering through a desert environment with this much water around.
It is also cool and moist as a wind is blowing across the Lake and there are clouds in the sky for the first time since the start of the sojourn. I really should put quotes around “clouds” as what you see appears to be a result of onshore flow and is a combination of clouds and pollution. It is very hard to get used to brown-tinged clouds, but I suppose if I lived here I’d manage somehow.
Near the end of the lake I followed a bike trail down to a nearby picnic area where I cleaned up a little and cooked dinner (take advantage of clean piped water when you can!). As there was no camping allowed I took off about 5:30 into more chaparral, weaving in and out of ravines and ridges.
About half an hour from sunset I realized from the map this was going to go on for a while and decided to be less choosy in selecting my camping spot. Finally I settled on a sandy, fairly level spot on the trail to throw down the sleeping bag sans tarp. As I haven’t seen a PCT thruhiker in more than a week, I doubt I’ll be stepped on and I don’t think the clouds are serious enough to warrant protection from the rain. Hope I’m right!
Saturday, 5/6/00: In Which I Hike the Ghost Road to Its Surreal Replacement
There was nobody walking through in the night and no precipitation. I only had about 10 miles to I-15 and my package at the motel there, so I moseyed along in the morning. There were some potentially good views to the west of the mountains I climb next, but the clouds/smog made it hard to see well or take a picture. There certainly is snow but hopefully not where I am going.
The last half-mile of trail was down Crowder Canyon towards I-15 and I discovered it was part of an old roadbed. Most of the road had dropped into the creek 20 feet below and it ended at the 6-lane superhighway to Las Vegas. It was strange thinking of those cars 50 or 60 years ago negotiating this narrow canyon where I now walk, the road totally forgotten by those now racing past on the modern highway.
Not only was there a big highway but also a McDonalds, Gas Stations/mini-marts, etc., all the trappings of “civilization” you would expect at a freeway interchange. My destination was at the far side of the cloverleaf and it was a real thrill negotiating the walk through heavy traffic after weeks out of it.
The motel had my box but not the envelope Ellie had mailed later. I cleaned up and called home to report in and spent the rest of the day resting.
Sunday, 5/7/00: In Which I Use the Lord’s Day to Rest
This was really a day of rest. My blisters have just about healed and nothing else is wrong any more than in an aggravating sort of way. I could probably keep going but I figure it is good to rest everything another day.
I read the Sunday paper, watched a baseball game on TV and washed clothes in the tub. I talked to Ellie and LiAnna at home and Andrea also gave me a call. Everything seems okay everywhere and I’m ready to head on.
Monday, 5/8/00: In Which I Get Ticked On But Return to the Mountains
I woke up early and enjoyed my last hot shower for a while. After dressing I looked out and discovered it was foggy (not smoggy). With all the resupply food and five quarts of water (first water is 23 miles away) I’m sure my pack weighed over 40 pounds with a full day of uphill hiking in store.
The day’s first surprise was that in addition to fog there was dew on the grass and brush, so my shoes, socks and pant legs were quickly wet. Much more distressing was the discovery that there were ticks on the brush, so I had to stop periodically to pick them off.
Near midday when the fog was finally lifting I met my first thruhiker since Idyllwild — Steve. He was dayhiking south from Wrightwood where he had hitched to. He was waiting for his girlfriend to show up and they would hike some (maybe even Grand Canyon) before he started the trail again. He said there was a guy named George ahead of me, so I guess I’m not alone.
Most of the day’s hiking was through chaparral. In the afternoon I saw a sheep on the trail — lost, not wild, I suspect. As evening approached I decided to push on to the campground (Guffy) near the first water. I barely made it in time to set up camp, get water and eat. There are patches of snow around (I’m at about 8400 feet) but I haven’t had to hike through anything serious.