From out of the Desert and into the Mountains (Finally!)

(Mike)
Over the past couple of weeks we have traveled up the trail another 150 miles or so. We're closing in on MP#800, or I should say that we were until "reality"--in the form of a snow pack which totals more than 50% deeper than any previously recorded in this area--appeared. Reportedly, in some places the trail ahead lies under as much as 40' of snow. This has caused us to rethink our strategy and to choose between a limited number of bad options. We have a plan, albeit amounting to a mere crapshoot.

We have left the desert behind (finally!), and we have gradually climbed and begun to encounter real trees, trees which I recognize as trees and not some burned-over, thorny and leafless shrubs. A whole new world has re-opened after 7+ weeks of hiking through sand, cactus, and other unfamiliar stuff. I have felt as though a pall was lifting. However, we discovered that Southern California was not finished with us quite yet: within a mile of entering a sort of token forest, we came upon another large “burn”. We had probably, up until then, walked through about 75 miles of “burn”. Some burns date from fires that burned as long as 10-12 years ago, and they still look awful--in fact, a burned over area of former forest has come to symbolize Southern California to me (nahhh..., I guess that's not really fair, but we have trudged for hours and hours through dry, dusty, blackened, really ugly burns and they are boring and tiring and make one's feet and legs simply filthy!). Each of the burns we have encountered are named (as in Deep Creek Burn, Station Fire, etc.). Here is what our last and final burn looked like:





Kinda ugly:


However, once in a while we have been able to enjoy a sunset like this:










This (final) burn lasted for at least 5 seemingly interminable miles, the hill we were on gradually dropped down to a valley floor to a creek overgrown with willows and there we pitched our tent and cooked supper.





This was a fitting and memorable place for us to end our Southern California phase and to enter THE SIERRAS. Oh joy! Relief! Along with trees and mountains came WATER. No longer would water availability be foremost on our minds. We are mailing home our camelback water bags, because from now on one or two liters of water will be the most we will need to carry.

The new forests are very lovely. It is great to be back in a more sylvan countryside. What beautiful trees! Pine, Fir, Cedar, and a species with which I was unfamiliar but which I find especially attractive: a large juniper (AKA “Juniperus Occidentalis”, I believe) which is a type of cypress, a prolific, large, gnarly, ancient tree resembling a Western Red Cedar, which I like a lot. Here's one:





And another:





And yet another:






They like to twist:






As the desert transitioned into a wooded, unburned area, we came upon lots of these plants (a variety of cyclamen, perhaps?).





They are quite fragrant.





The desert is, after 700 miles, behind us and, in reflecting, I admit to there being some very interesting and pretty things to see there (if one looks closely--very closely). I had been anxious to see the desert first-hand and I would say that 700 miles of desert at less than two miles per hour has enabled me to have a pretty good look. I feel that I have at least made a start toward learning a bit about deserts (and I'm not referring to a golf course in Scottsdale, Az., but to serious full-blown, hot, dry desert). I am moved to wonder about those who choose to live there, and to consider that they may have never experienced the pleasure of walking through a forest, and further to wonder why in Hell one would want to stay there (heck, the only animals we saw there were some lizards, lots of huge and surly snakes, several cute little horney toads and one scroungy old coyote!). I had wanted to see the place, I've seen it, and now its time to move on (whew!). Here's what we've been looking at for the past 7 weeks:





Or this:





And now we get to walk through scenery like this:





And this:





Or





The last place at which we stopped in SoCal was Kennedy Meadows South. Not much of a place, way out in nowhere, down a dusty road, about 25 miles from the nearest highway. There is a tiny general store, and a free campground (of a sort which affirms that one can usually expect no more than what one pays for). The PCT goes right past K.M., we had sent a resupply box there, and they sell beer in the tiny store. Jan was pleased to see a couple of portable toilets placed at the edge of the parking lot. Early the next morning, Jan trotted over to one of the "comfort stations", opened the door, looked inside, gagged, retched, and walked around behind and dug a hole :-) Here's Kennedy Meadows (the beer was cold, so I was happy with that):





The store:





Inside the store:





We spent only one night at K.M., leaving at noon the following day as my thermometer registered 110 degrees F., such was our enchantment with the place.

Jan and I have, over the past year, become (at least borderline) vegetarians, but in working and burning calories as much as we have of late, and losing so much weight, we are discovering that we need a lot more protein in our diets. Meat makes a noticeable difference in our energy levels. Now, I know that her daughters and others of you who know Jan are gonna have a hard time believing this, but back about 100 miles ago I actually watched Jan hungrily grab a weenie from a filthy picnic table, slather it with mustard and catsup, wrap it in a slice of bread and gobble it down like it was a chocolate truffle (I went for the camera but she was too quick for me, and she declined my request for an encore). Yep, the trail does surprising things to people. We now stock up on packaged tuna and jerky at every opportunity, and it seems to help.

Rudy (Der Hairmeister):
The foretold event has come to pass. Yesterday, Jan decided it was time to deal with her hair. Yep, now we both know its natural color (and it ain't blonde). 'Looks good, though. After making an appointment for a cut, we went by the salon to see how the place looked; Jan's reaction was that she was not going to let anybody in there touch her hair. She was shaken and said something like “Goddam, I'm not going in there,...dumpy old ladies, etc.”. Well, today she bit the bullet, kept the appointment, and actually came out later feeling pretty good about it. Her hair--or what is left of it--looks great (and quite appropriate for a PCT hiker). Here's Jan's new look (I like it).
A fine looking lady, n'est pas? Havin' a good hair day:

















There is a lot of snow up ahead. We have encountered a bit thus far, but only at elevations of around 10,500' or higher. There is a lot of higher trail coming up, and here in Lone Pine there are a lot of hikers wondering how to handle it. It isn't only the work and drudgery of hiking all day over 8'-deep snow, but with the heat (it was 110 degrees F. as we left Kennedy Meadows!) the resulting snow melt is swelling the rivers so as to make them difficult and dangerous to ford—and there are maybe 20 significant stream and river crossings to wade across (some as deep as 4') in the next couple hundred miles. Some hikers have gone ahead and tried it and have returned back to Lone Pine to re-strategize (there is gonna be a stretch of about two weeks where one will rarely walk on bare ground, while cooking and sleeping on snow as well). Others have jumped ahead, with a plan to come back and do the really difficult parts later in the Summer when the snow is less. A few have reportedly made it through the rough spots. There is also a large number who have decided to bag it right here, go home and forget about it. We still hope to finish the entire trail this season, and to actually enjoy it whenever possible. Soon we will be going through that portion of the PCT known as the John Muir Trail, reputed to be among the most beautiful sections of trail in the world, and we hope to be able to appreciate it. Our plan, such as it is, is to leave Monday AM by bus for Reno, where we will take the Amtrack to Redding. There, we will sit for a few days (while the snow melts), and then slowly hike back toward Lone Pine. It's not really much of a strategy, but the options are really pretty limited. Upon arriving back here in Lone Pine, we will hopefully ride back to Redding and then continue north through Northern Calif. and Oregon, etc. Here's what the last few miles of countryside were like (very nice):











Remember back on our very first journal entry, where we mentioned that we'd eventually be required to haul a "bear can" around with us (are you paying attention out there?)? Well that eventuality has materialized and so at Kennedy Meadows we picked up the two cans we had ordered to be sent there. These cans are to hold all of our food, and anything else that might be of interest to a bear who is too lazy (or too smart) to go out and forage like they're supposed to (stuff like toothpaste, perfume--yeah, we hikers like to smell good). We carry the cans to keep the park rangers happy, really. Anyway, they weigh around 2.5 lbs. each (the cans) and have inspired some bitching on the part of us porters. The cans are actually pretty handy when used as stools.
Here, Jan proudly models her Bearicade Model BV500:





Here's a friendly fellow with whom we shared a campsite***





He liked us.





My medical crisis:
I'm pleased to report that my wounded pinky is healing well. At the hospital, the doctor initially pronounced it broken, but an x-ray showed that it was merely dislocated. There was also a deep cut in the skin. It took 24 hours for me to get to a hospital, so I attribute my recuperation in part to Jan's deftly applied first aid. Here's what she did, selflessly donating her nail file for use as a splint:





(Jan)
We arrived at south Kennedy Meadows on a very hot morning after losing our way on the trail as we walked through an overgrown grassy meadow. About here is where the bugs got to be annoying. Big yellow biting flies and our first real run-in with Mosquitos--I managed to live up to my trail name (Skeeter Bait) without a bit of hesitation. I also found that Deet is about all that works to keep the buggers at bay.

The heat has come on full force, with temps running in the high 90s.

We hiked through the first leg of the Sierras in the heat, climbing first to 8000 ft and then to 10,700. Of course, what goes up must come down, so we went up and down and over several saddles with some fantastic views over a period of three days for more than 50 miles.























When we arrived in Lone Pine (cowboy movie capital for such old-time favourites as The Lone Ranger and Roy Rogers) we caught up with several hiker friends who were bagging the
hike due to the tough snow conditions from here. We weighed our options and decided to jump up to Redding where there are several miles we can hike before we try this section again. We are still hoping to finish this hike this year, but snow and weather conditions may win out.

In the meantime, my wonderful Rudy-coiffed hair is lying on the local beautician's floor where I had it chopped off in favour of coolness and ease of upkeep. Big surprise--I nam also a lot greyer!

We will be in Lone Pine until Monday morning at 6:15 am when we will catch the only bus of the day to Reno from where we will take Amtrak to Redding.
A view from the center of Lone Pine (those mts, about 11,000' high, are less than 5 miles from town):





In the meantime, we are eating our way through the several good restaurants in town and drinking lots of water to nourish and rehydrate our skinny (mostly Mike's) bodies.

The silver lining to our new plan was that we got to spend a few hours with my Dad in Reno as we waited for our Amtrak connection to Redding. He is coming up on 90 later this year and it was fun to surprise him with our visit.














We will keep you all posted as to our next trail location (hopefully Fish Lake, Oregon, and hiking south through Ashland, through Castle Crags (Dunsmuir) and back down through the Sierras.

We apologise to all who are waiting in the wings to meet us here and there with resupply packages. This hike has become a logistical nightmare and you are all no doubt becoming as frustrated with the many changes as are we. Please don't hesitate to opt out of previous plans to meet us if they interfere with your own commitments. We will be able to make adjustments.

Happy trails,

***Oh, my mistake. I guess that bear lives in the zoo, at Balboa Park, San Diego. Sorry....

Mike and Jan

Location:Lone Pine, CA

Last blog entry...for a while...maybe

(Mike)
During the next week or two, we might be a bit isolated, (internettedly speaking). (Upon arriving at the Tehatchapi Post Office last week, Jan was delivered a "If my Mom comes in, please tell her to call me" message by the postmaster). Our next (brief--for resupplies only) stop will be at Onyx (boasting nothing more than a post office and a "c-store"). Then from there, we plan a forcemarch (actually, only a couple days) to the ominous and significant (to PCT hikers) place called Kennedy Meadows (South). For us, this will mark the end of the desert and the beginning of the "High Sierras". It has been a favored topic of conversation, striking fear into the hearts of hikers from places like Florida and Mississippi, etc. (and us, as well). A whole new ballgame is in the offing, and we're not so sure we're adequately prepared for the snow which, this year, totals about 100% more than anyone can remember. Anyway, K.M. is likely to not have any internet service and so we'll likely be incommunicado until we reach Lone Pine, a bit further up the trail.

We had to make an unplanned side trip out to this lovely, pleasant and tiny town of Kernville. This berg of around 1,500 friendly people sits at about 3,000' elevation, pretty low in comparison to the "high desert" stuff through which we've been hiking these past few weeks--it is desert though, and is closely bordered on each side by tall, rocky (and really quite beautiful) hills that i'd guess must be at least 3,000' higher. Those "hills" also happen to be some of which we will likely be climbing over in the 100 degree heat which has been predicted for tomorrow, when we plan to leave here.

On the day before yesterday (coincidentally, a short time after I had carelessly remarked to Jan how lucky and clever we had been up to that point in that neither of us had so much as tripped or taken a fall in the, by then 600 miles we'd come!), I slipped, fell and jammed my right little finger into the ground. It hurt big time, but fortunately I am equipped with an extensive and inclusive vocabulary with which to handle such events. My pinky didn't fare well, and was now pointing in a new direction beginning at the joint. It was very ugly!

Obviously, medical intervention was called for, but realistic options were limited: it was mid-afternoon, we were 9 miles from the nearest trail head, no cell phone coverage, we were both tired, and my finger hurt (and it was bleeding too, dammit).

We figured that, at the trail head 9 miles distant (which was alongside a paved road), we might have cell service with which we could call for help (we had a phone number), so we bravely marched on, arriving at the road (in total darkness, by head lamp) at around 10:00PM, pitched our tent on the only semi-level spot we could find (right in the middle of the trail), and I began a full insomnient night of vocalizing my digital discomfort with Jan.

Next morning (like maybe about 50 or 60 hours later, it seemed) we arose and tried the cell phone (no coverage!)--by this time I had depleted my reservoir of expletives. We took a look at the "paved road" to which we had hiked (the pavement wasn't immediately obvious, sand having blown over a large portion of it--a paucity of tire tracks completed the picture, and moreover, we didn't even know in which way civilisation lay. Everyone knows that in order to effectively hitch-hike, one traditionally points one's thumb in the preferred direction of travel, so we made an arbitrary decision, the futility of which became apparent when, after 2 hours, not a single vehicle appeared. (Think "Gobi Desert", or maybe a hot "Siberia".) That place was desolate! Our prospects were looking bad until another hiker (with a vicinity map, no less!) happened along and pointed us in the direction of Hwy. 178 (a daunting 20 miles away).

Well, we left the trail head at around 8:30AM, walked for about an hour, and in 3 miles or so, came upon a USFS ranger parked, eating a sandwich in his pickup (this guy was NOT gonna get away!). It turned out his wife is a Nurse Practitioner, he drove us the 25 or 30 miles to the hospital at Mountain Mesa, and there left me in competent hands. By 10:30, my pinky was being x-rayed in an E.R., and things were really looking up. X-rays revealed a dislocation rather than a broken finger, and the Doc offered me a choice of an injection of novacain followed by a single twist and jerk of my distorted digit or (his preferred option): doing the job without the dope. I opted for the cowardly, sissy-wawa procedure and the only minor twinge of discomfort I sensed was when he stuck the needle into the back of my finger (it felt as though someone were sticking a needle into the back of my finger!). Immediately after a massaging twist of the knuckle, I regained nearly full movement of the finger, and the pain had subsided significantly.

OK. End of that story.

Wind: we are pleased to be nearing the end of "wind". It seems as though everywhere we've gone there has been wind (and that, of course, includes the 12 or 15 miles we spent walking right through the Tehatchapi wind farm complex--an interesting and uncomfortable experience--4,000 huge windmills harnessing some of the allegedly most powerful winds on Earth. We have often been blown right off the trail.

Dry, windy and (well, frankly) a little bit ugly. It seems that there are a few things in California about which the Beach Boys did not sing.

At the hospital, I weighed
myself. 166 lbs: down by about 17 lbs., and I don't know what to do about it. Can't eat any more, can't carry any more food. I'm at about my high school freshman year weight. 'gonna do some serious eatin' when this hike is done.

I think the really swell stuff is just ahead (beyond Kennedy
Meadows). Jan's spirits are lifted as well.
Jan sacrificed her nail file to use as a splint.



The E.R. Surgeon's product.




Onward!




Someone was pretty happy with this benchmark.



Etc., etc.



All in a row. Rows and rows, everywhere there is wind, for maybe 40 or so miles along the trail.



How's this for scenery. No Beach Boys' song subject here.



Lovely ash trees in the Kernville median strip.



The Kern River passes through town (at about double it's usual capacity). It is said that this weather is melting the
Sierra snows at the rate of 1' per week. At that rate, when we
arrive there, there might be only 20' of snow covering the trail!

Alright, now Jan has some
thoughts.

(Jan) Kernville is HOT! What that means is gorgeous mornings and warm nights. This morning, I willingly (knowing I was not hiking 20 miles) got up before the sun and took my complimentary motel coffee outside to sit in the chair swing on our little patio and worked a crossword. Last evening, we sat around the pool here and enjoyed a beer and the fragrance of prolific Star Jasmine under a clear sky with a nearly full moon and temps in the 70's. Ahhhh....hiking is not so bad afterall!

My new backpack seems to be working out--now if I could just get the weight down. When we finish this next stretch we should not have to worry so much about water and that will mean we can cut down on our weight by 2 lbs per liter. The saying is, "as the weight goes down, the pleasure goes up". Of course, at K.M. we must each start carrying a bear can for our food which weighs 2 1/2 lbs before we fill it up. (Michele. don't be surprised to see a few more boxes of clothes and other essentials coming back your way).
Time for a siesta--love to all.
Mike and Jan

Location:Kernville, Ca.

Checking In at Last

(Jan)
Some of you may think we have been lost in the wilds of California, but we have managed to survive southern Cal's burnt out deserts (complete with rattlesnakes), knock-you-down winds, and never-ending switchbacks up and over one mountain after another for 558 miles.

We have taken a zero day in Tehachapi and tomorrow officially start into central California toward Bakersfield. We expect to arrive at the foot of the southern end of the high Sierras in 10 days or so and then the fun really begins. Personally, I've had enough fun for a lifetime of hikes already!

Tehachapi is another in a long string of hiker friendly towns. Mike treated me to a wonderful Greek dinner last night to celebrate our more than 500 miles. He is amazed we have made it this far since I threaten to quit this frigging hike almost daily.

I have bought a new backpack in an effort to be more comfortable and carry less weight. I was even fortunate enough to sell my old one to a fellow hiker. I am now blister free and seem to be on the mend from a respiratory infection that cost me $350 (we don't take Medicare).

Here are some pix since the last entry and a more positive outlook from Mike.



Tehachapi wind farm



A great hiker cache maintained by trail angels




One of our fellow hikers who took a face plant (and I was feeling sorry for myself!)




The 1905-1912 original LA water pipeline still in operation today.



Walking along the Los Angeles Aqueduct (the only truly flat section so far)




A "mileage marker"


(Mike)
Well now, in an ever-so-slightly more positive vein, I'd like to say that I feel things have been going quite well. What an unforgettable experience traveling along at two miles per hour, under our own steam; wanna go faster(?), can't just simply press down on a gas pedal--it's much more personal (and ergonomic) than that. Exhausted after 10 or 12 hours of travel(?), gotta look for a level place--hopefully free from that damned foxtail grass (the seeds from which can penetrate one's shoe--imagine what they can do to one's air mattress!). Need a bathroom(?), well ya take that tiny little spade (sorta looks like a tablespoon) and the roll of Brownie film out off the trail--and if it's getting dark, don't forget to take along your headlamp.
Dinnertime: well, in order to reduce our pack weight we don't carry much fuel, so we quickly rehydrate and warm up some goop that we had prepared back home, and we hurriedly stuff it into our faces, both of us eating out of one cooking pot while standing up (we do each have our own personal titanium spoons!). Time for bed, really, really, really tired and we'll be getting up at around 4:30 AM, so we need to get to sleep.
Food's a large problem because we've found it totally impossible to carry enough calories sufficient to maintain our body weight. Both of us are normally fairly lean, and we've been getting leaner--Jan has lost about 11 lbs and I'm down by around 14 thus far. We eat all sorts of fattening stuff and we simply work it right off.
We've come 558 miles in about 5 weeks (not counting a few days visiting a doctor and a couple of dentists and waiting for various post offices to open (why do we often seem to arrive in town on weekends(?).
Life on the trail. Gotta love it (I do--and I don't think Jan--no, "Skeeter", minds it too much (well, I hope not).



The Rock Inn in Lake Hughes. We stayed one night here.



A burn area--we have probably hiked through at least 50 miles of burned area.


Typical scenery.

Well, things are gonna change very soon, as we are approaching the Sierra Mts, and they are not only intimidatingly high but deeply snow-covered. New and different challenges...


Mike and Jan

Location:Capitol Hills Pkwy,Tehachapi,United States