After the River debacle, we get up and get moving a little worse for wear, around 8. There is still some snow, but the trail is drier for awhile. We meet two women heading up presumably to summit Mt San Jacinto. They ask me how the trail conditions are.
“What trail?” I jokingly ask. We tell them about the snow, and the difficult river crossing.
“Well, you’ve got an awful lot of snow to look forward to yourself,” the woman counters.
We enjoy some dry trail for another mile or so, and then the trail moves to the north side of the ridge and we are back in deep snow, as promised.
The going is slow. I notice that there are only a few sets of tracks, even when we are definitely directly over the trail.
“Where are all the PCT hikers?” I ask Maurice. He shrugs.
We come to the end of one ridge, which terminates in a steep rocky outcrop. The tracks go right up the side of the rocks. I start up, then look down-there is a rocky cliff right below us.
“This is super sketchy. We definitely should have ice axes for this,” I mention unhelpfully.
We make it over the ledge though, without any problems, and continue the side hill traverse for another two hours in the snow. We have to stop halfway through and melt snow for water, because we haven’t encountered any running water today, and we have been hiking for three and a half hours.
Finally, in what feels like an eternity, we spit out at the Fuller Ridge trailhead.
The snow abruptly stops. Maurice finds a drain pipe with snowmelt and we drink our fill. Then we start down the Fuller Ridge trail towards the desert floor. It is immediately summer-sunny, warm, and dry, with wide-open easy trail.
I am walking along talking to Ryan on the phone, when Maurice shouts, “Rattlesnake!” And points. “Where? ….oh!” I say, half into the phone. The big snake is curled up and poised to strike about 8 feet from the trail, rattling away. “They can jump the length of their bodies!” Ryan quickly says at the other end of the line. I keep moving.
An hour or so later, we see three hikers coming up the trail. It turns out to be Jodi, Jonathan, and Philip the Swede, who we last saw in Mount Laguna. They are backtracking to a water source a little ways back up the trail.
“We took the Black Mountain Alt around Jacinto. Just a couple snow patches,” Jodi mentions.
“Black Mountain Alt….?” Realization dawns on me. Most of the hikers are taking this lower alternate route around Mount San Jacinto, which is why we saw so few tracks.
We say goodbye and keep moving. The trail is mind blowingly beautiful in the afternoon light, with Mount San Jacinto rising majestically in the background. We camp at 6 pm. Maurice and I eat dinner together. The group comes in almost at 8 pm. It feels good to camp low, in the desert again, and listen to the desert night sounds. I am relieved to be done with Jacinto, and all it entailed. I hiked 15.3 miles today, the 16th day on trail.
8.5 miles today, my 17th day on trail. We walk to I-15 and take an Uber to Banning to meet Aidan and Alex.
We wake up at 5 am with an alarm in the Days Inn in Banning. The Uber arrives right at 6 and takes us back to the trail to begin hiking at 6:20. It is cool, for about an hour-then as soon as the sun gets a little bit off the horizon, its heat penetrates.
The trail is flat or very gently rising for some miles. As it gains in elevation, there is a bit of a breeze, which is a relief. I am passed by two young fellows who I have never seen before, at about 10 am. “Do me a favor and kick any rattlesnakes you see off to the side of the trail,” I call to them. They barely crack a smile.
At 11, I find Maurice and Aidan stopped next to a sign pointing to the Whitewater Preserve, half a mile off trail. We have to cross the Whitewater River to get to the Preserve, but it’s worth it-it’s set in a beautiful cool glen of trees, and a thousand birds are flying around and singing. It feels like Eden.
We settle in at a picnic table and take off our shoes. I wander over to the camping area and find the Belgian couple there. I chat with them for a half hour or so-we haven’t seen them since Paradise Valley Cafe. We all stay at the Preserve till 2 pm, then set out to hike again.
It is very hot. I can feel the rivulets of sweat dripping down my temples. I come to the crossing for the Whitewater river-Maurice is waiting for us so that we can do it together. The current is strong, but it isn’t too deep, just over my knees-and I am across in about 20 seconds.
I continue on. Big clouds move in, and I see a flash of lightning, but they move to our left, not crossing directly overhead. Mercifully this cools the air down significantly.
In the evening I descend on the trail to Mission Creek. There is a beautiful white beach with a little fire ring, and Maurice is setting up his tent. I choose a site close to the fire ring. Aidan comes in a little later. We make a campfire in the ring as the sun sets. Just as darkness falls, the Belgian couple come down the trail accompanied by Stash the German.
“Ah! Gezellig (cozy!)” says Aurelie. She convinces the others to camp with us, and we all eat dinner around the fire. I go to bed just aferwards-the warm glow of a campfire through my tent, and the soft sounds of a conversation in Flemish, and the crackling of the campfire. I hiked 17.3 miles today, my 18th day on trail.
I get up at 5 am, the third day in a row, to try and beat the heat. I vaguely remember the five thousand foot climb up Mission Creek from last time-I remember blistering heat, exposed terrain, hard work.
The trail is utterly different this time, because of the season, the floods from the heavy winter, my age, or all of the above.
I start the climb, and am surrounded almost immediately by green riparian foliage. The sun shines through the trees, and the creek runs below-I cross it again and again, weaving in and out and upwards-cool cleansing water, gentle, just under knee deep.
I am transfixed. I feel myself as a thread in a tapestry-one pink-and-yellow thread, weaving amongst threads of bright green leaves and gold light and cool gray water-weaving upwards through the canyon. Time seems to stand still. It no longer matters how long this takes-and this is not a job-I am instead suspended in this place, sweating and weaving upwards, cooled continuously by the water. When I was a little girl, decades away from thruhiking, I dreamed of this place. I float gently upwards. My nostrils smell the earth, and the green riparian foliage, and the sun-warmed flowers-and I am fully alive-and love flows within myself, pink and yellow light-in a continuous loop, white hot and powerful. I am regenerating.
I meet Maurice around noon and we take a long break, watching some dubious storm clouds. Once again, they move to the left, not breaking over us. I begin to walk again.
In the evening, I finally break onto the high plateau below San Gorgonio mountain. I veer towards the large Mission Creek Camp. There are maybe 10 people already here-the large group from last night, and two ladies on their 60s.
I set up camp near the ladies. They are Irish, it turns out, and a couple. I chat with them for half an hour-then I see the Belgians and Stash the German coming down the trail.
“Kooooo-WEE!!” I call. They all look up. There is a brief conference, and then they walk to us.
Once again, we make a big campfire. It is sweet conversation, lots of laughter, fun moments. No matter how old I grow, I will never grow tired of alive moments such as this. I walked 13.2 miles today, my 19th day on trail.
I sleep in till 6 am today. For some reason, I feel completely energized today-as if my trail legs have finally come in. I hike fast throughout the day. In the evening, I come upon a camp at 17 miles-but there are many Boy Scouts around. I walk 2 miles to the next campsite. There about 15 hikers already camped there. I make a tiny campfire-it is social, and sweet. I hiked 19.5 miles, my 20th day on trail.
I wake up at 5 am. The sun is just starting to think about coming up-a low white light has started at the base of my tent. I try and boil water for tea-I use the last of my fuel canister, which is only enough for lukewarm tea. I start hiking at about 6:10- only Maurice is awake; talking to his wife on the phone in London, eight hours ahead. He waves at me as I hike away.
It is gentle, easy hiking, up and down a few hills. I get to the highway just before 9 am. A white van is sitting at the trailhead, and a woman in the driver’s seat yells, “do you need a ride?” I gladly get in the driver’s seat. Tianna is a trail Angel who helps out hikers with rides in Big Bear. She drives me to Big Bear Lake.
I thank Tianna profusely and get out at the Grizzly Manor Cafe. There are at least 20 people waiting outside this famous cafe to be seated for breakfast. I squeeze by them through the door of the tiny cafe and find the the host-“how much of a wait for one?”
She scans her list briefly, then indicates a back table where an old man is sitting by himself. “Well, if you’d like to sit with him, there’s no wait.”
“Great!” I head back. “Do you mind if I share with you?” I ask. The man doesn’t smile, but nods. “Just set your pack down near the back door, but don’t block the door.”
I sit down. We start chatting. “What’s your name?” I ask. He looks at me knowingly and turns his coffee mug towards me. The mug reads “Jack.” He explains that he moved here to help manage the main bank in town. Later, he mentions that he was in the Air Force for 27 years.
We share stories back and forth as I eat my blueberry pancakes. A waiter squeezes by with a spare chair-“‘Scuse me, Captain!”
“Were you a captain in the Air Force?” I ask.
His eyes sparkle. “General. One star.”
He stands to leave and the waiter says to me in passing, “your bill is paid for, in case you were waiting for the bill.”
I am totally delighted by this chance encounter. Jack clearly hangs out at this famous cafe, and hosts hikers in this way at his established table, when the line is out the door, knowing hikers are usually hungry, openminded, and open-hearted enough to share a tiny table with an old man in a too-busy cafe. In a way, his energy matches ours-his eyes are full of life-he is fully alive, surrounded by the bustle of a touristy cafe.
I head out. I almost immediately run into Alex and a few other friends, and then Aidan, walking around town. We do a little shopping and then join the Belgians for lunch. Aurelie has rented a large vacation cabin for all of us. We got to the grocery store to buy food to prepare for dinner, then head to the large cozy cabin for the evening. It is raining and cold now, perfect cabin weather. I hiked 6.7 miles today, my 21st day on trail.
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