Week 6 on the PCT.

20.2 miles 36th day

I hike into Hikertown, a historic and notorious weird hiker lodging composed of an old Western town movie set sitting in the middle of the desert. It's cold and windy. None of my friends are here, and I'm a bit lonely. I hiked 19.6 miles today, my 37th day on trail.

I wake up early at Hikertown but don’t actually start hiking until 7:30.  It is overcast, windy, and chilly.  I start my walk towards the LA aqueduct.

The last time I did this walk, we started hiking as the sun set, walking until 1 or 2 in the morning.  This section of the PCT is notoriously hot, following the Aqueduct across the Mojave Desert for about 20 miles before weaving back up into the Tehachapi Mountains.  Hikers try and mitigate the heat by night-hiking, and this year I have seen hikers bring glow sticks and glow paint to make it a fun event.

But I hate nighthiking.  I think because i work  so frequently as a night shift nurse, hiking at night feels fundamentally unnatural-every part of my body feels on high alert, and it feels like some kind of awful job.  Also, it has been incredibly cold-about 40 degrees at night, and windy.  So, I take on the Aqueduct in the morning, at my normal hiking time.

It’s actually a really beautiful walk. The Tehachapi Mountains line the horizon in front of me, still clutching the clouds that they have been holding onto all week.  I feel bored and sleepy at midday, but combine a 20 minute nap with a rare midday cup of coffee which helps me pick up the pace.  I am passed by two lone hikers, but otherwise am alone all day.

In the evening, the trail gently starts to wind up towards the mountains again.  I walk through a giant wind farm.  The massive, clean white windmills quietly whoosh high above me, all around.  I remember this section also from last time.  We camped in this wind farm in 2012, and I remember looking up at the silent giants with their red lights, sillouetted against the night sky-and Woolie, my hiking partner, saying that if he grew to be an old man, he hoped he would remember the sight and sound of windmills in the desert night.

But it’s 2023, and I am eleven years older, and those friends are scattered around the country now, living different lives.  In the evening, I am sitting under a brave little juniper tree to fight the wind, eating a hail-Mary snack to get me up the last 4 miles.  I see a lone hiker coming, wearing a white cowboy hat and an open button-down shirt and long khaki pants.  I watch him swiftly stride up the hill through the windmills.  He says hello as he passes and presses on at his swift pace.  As he passes, I see his tiny ultralight backpack-all but invisible from the front.

Finally as the sun sets behind the cloud bank on the mountains, I crest the hill.  It is a beautiful evening, and once again I consider the way in which it is impossible to feel this way with any other method in life-wild and free and dirty and euphorically exhausted, existing in some corner of the wilderness where cars don’t go, where people don’t drive, where only a few walk.  There are times when thruhiking feels like the epitome of stupid-you are walking with no purpose except the journey itself.  This is not one of those times.

I walk the ridge for a moment and see the hiker who passed me, striding along from a little outcropping where he had been looking at the view.  He tells me his name is James, trailname Twinkle Toes-“I just got my trail name today!” He comments cheerfully.  He is so, so young-they are all so young. 

We drop into Tyler Horse Canyon in the dying light.  I am delighted to see that this canyon looks dark and inviting-a ribbon of dark green and slate grey tucked into the dusty golden hills, with a bubbling stream running down the middle.  There are 6 or 7 people camped here-the same folks from Hikertown last night.  James says, “you can walk with us to Tehachapi tomorrow!”  I laugh.

“You guys walk a LOT faster than me.  But I will see you in town!”

I wearily set up my tent next to the stream and slowly eat my lentils and tea before falling asleep. I hiked 24 miles today, my 38th day on the PCT.

I wake up and get moving early today.  The hikers I had camped with quickly pass me.

The trail weaves up and down through the windmills throughout the day.  In the afternoon, I descend to Tehachapi Willows rode which goes to Tehachapi.  I hitchhike into town and message Aurelie.  They and Stash have found a trail Angel named Jason  and invite me to stay as well.

I walk across town to the farmers market, where everyone is.  I find Stash and the Belgians and there is a lot of hugging, then we all get beers and stand around the tall tables in the middle of the farmers market.

“Soooooo…….what are you doing for the Sierras?”  Victor asks me.  Stash is smiling at me like a Cheshire cat.

The Sierra Nevada mountains are much higher elevation than what we have been walking through this far, and this year, they have received historic snowfall-the snowpack still sits at 533% of normal for the Southern Sierras, which includes Mount Whitney, the highest mountain in the contiguous United States.  “Going through” has been the talk of the Trail since we started-hikers have to decide whether to skip the section for now and return when the snow is gone, or try and continue northbound into what will certainly be winter mountaineering conditions.

I sigh dramatically.  “I don’t knooowww.  I keep going back and forth.”

“Come with us!  Let’s do it!”  They say.  I think about it for a moment, weighing the pros and cons one more time as I have for weeks.

“Ok. I’m in.”

“Yaaayyy!”  There is a lot of merriment, and more beers, and more celebration. 

I meet Trail Angel Jason, and he drives us back to his house.  Victor makes us a big meal of shrimp pasta.  It is so great to be with everybody again.  I hiked 17.3 miles today, my 39th day on trail.

Today we wake up and make a plan to gear everybody up for the Sierras.  Jason drives us to the post office first-there are about 15 hikers already there, sorting and boxing gear.  Sights like this crack me up-an official post office crammed with tanned, dirty people busily tearing open boxes, stuffing food in their backpacks, mailing packages.

We take an Uber to Lancaster, then rent a car and drive up to my storage unit in Lone Pine.  We listen to music, sing along, tell lots of stories and jokes.  A road trip is an extremely fun alternative day to hiking.  At my storage unit, we meet Bri, and between she and I we lend the other three crampons, gaiters, extra clothes, a bear can.  Then we go to Elevation Outfitters in Lone Pine and they shop for the rest of the things they will need-ice axes, bear cans, gloves.  We finally camp at Tuttle Creek campground after all of this, arriving after dark.  I hiked 0 miles today, my 40th day on trail.

We wake up this morning in Tuttle Creek campground.  The desert is warm and expansive-and up above us, Mount Whitney is in sharp relief against the blue sky.  We head into town for coffee at Vibras Cafe, then get back on the road to head back to Lancaster.  We make a few more stops for errands, then drop the car off and take an Uber all the way from the Avis in downtown Lancaster back to the trailhead outside Tehachapi.  As we get out of the car, we see about 6 other hikers getting into or out of cars-the Uber driver is a bit mystified by this.  “I’ve never been out here,” he says. We explain the basics of the PCT.

The trail between the two roads into Tehachapi winds gently up rolling hills through another wind farm.  We all hike pretty closely together back down to Highway 58, where there is a water cache.  We refill our water bottles and then hike a few more miles-Stash sees a Mojave Green rattlesnake, which is momentarily exciting.  Stash and Victor find a campsite that is relatively protected from the wind down an old road grade, and we all set up in a row.  I am in heaven in my giant Feathered Friends down sleeping bag and coat, which I picked up from my storage for the Sierras.  I make some macaroni and cheese and Stash spends a little while working on his harmonica skills. 

We all go to bed around 9 pm.  I hiked 10 miles today, my 41st day on trail.

I sleep only moderately well, my tent pushed around by the wind all night.  We get moving late, at 8:30 am.  Stash takes off at his fast pace-but I see him 10 minutes later, stopped on the side of the trail.  “I almost stepped on a rattlesnake!  I was THIS close!” He holds his hands about 4 inches apart.

“What color was it?”

“Green.  It’s still there.”

He points into the dead grass at the side of the trail.  A large Mojave Green Rattlesnake is slowly making its way into the bushes.  I had read on the internet last night that Mojave Green rattlesnakes are the most venomous rattlesnakes on earth, and a bite can cause paralysis and respiratory arrest.  Stash was possibly lucky because it is still chilly, and the snake was moving slowly because it hadn’t warmed up yet.

I hike on through the morning. The trail climbs up into pine forest and then bumps along with gentle ups and downs.   Two thunderstorm clouds hover off in the distance, but they don’t make their way to us.

In the afternoon, we come to a small stream.  There are 7 or 8 hikers that stream in to collect water-there is no on-trail water for 20 miles.  I make my way down to a low point that is marked with a camping icon on FarOut-there are already about 10 hikers set up here, eating dinner.  We seem to be in a little bit of a bubble.

“What are you doing for the Sierras?” The question is like electricity, hopping back and forth anxiously as people firm up trail friendships and make plans.  Many people are flipping north over the Sierras, mostly to Chester California to walk north.  We have a group of 6 or 7 planned now that will at least attempt them now.

I set up my tent next to Stash and Tomas, who has temporarily rejoined us, though he plans to flip.  The Belgians set up their tent and come over to eat dinner.  There is a lot of talking and laughing, both from our little corner and with the groups of friends scattered around.  I hiked 18.5 miles today, my 42nd day on trail.