On my twelfth day I began PCT California Section B out of Warner Springs, hiking up Agua Caliente Creek and then climbing up and above Lost Valley to a pleasant spot near a flowing creek.
From PCT mile 111.4 to 120.9 Total: 9.5 miles 4/11
Vicki and I spent the previous night in the campground at the Los Coyotes Indian Reservation, which was very peaceful as it was early in the season and we were the only ones there. But it was also a cold morning, so we didn’t feel like eating breakfast on a cold picnic table in frosty weather. Since our plan was to shuttle my car to the far end of my hike, on Highway 74 in Anza, we decided to do that first. We knew that the sun would be shining by that time, so we could eat breakfast in comfort.
After a hot breakfast, we were both feeling much warmer. We then headed back to Warner Springs to drop me off at the beginning of the next forty mile section of trail. Vicki and I had hiked this before, back in February 2015, so I had a pretty good idea of what to expect. I was still on my boring ten-mile-per-day regimen (due to healing my earlier blisters), so there was no rush to get started early.
Vicki took a photo of me, gave me a final hug, and away I went. The first few miles of trail followed along Agua Caliente Creek, crossing it several times, and I was a bit shocked to discover how much water was flowing. Yes, 2023 was a very wet year, and the creek showed it. Last time we hopped across easily, but not this year! And there I was without my water shoes, which I foolishly left at home to save weight. Oh well. The hike must go on.
All told, the PCT crossed the creek six times. Luckily, I was able to use a log and my hiking stick (for balance) to cross it the first two times. After that, the trail headed up and away from the deep gorge the creek had carved. It was warm and pleasant hiking up there in the chaparral. But it didn’t last. Soon, I was back at the rushing water, and there were no more convenient logs or boulders to be found. But there was plenty of sand in the creek bed. So I did what I had to do, and waded across barefoot. The water was cold, but not that bad, and the sand was soft. After the first crossing, my fears for my blisters were realized. Not that I had new ones, but that the protective Leukotape patches over the blisters were essentially gone. I peeled off the pieces of loosely flapping tape and put them in my trash pocket. I checked out the map. I had three more crossings to go, all within a mile or so. I decided not to bother drying my feet and putting new tape on. Why bother? Similarly, I didn’t even bother with the socks. I just stuck my feet in the shoes and hiked gingerly onward.
When I passed the final crossing I hiked a bit further to a good spot, then took off my pack for a break. I got out my lunchtime pop-tart and also my first aid kit. There was more Leukotape in there. I examined my feet, to see what the creek had done to them. They didn’t look that bad. All the dead skin above the blisters had been removed by the gritty sand, but at least they were fairly clean. The callouses that I used to have were also long gone. Hence the Leukotape, which would become my surrogate callouses. Please scroll quickly past the next photo if you a squeamish about seeing blistered feet or peeling skin. Even I don’t like looking at it, but there it is: The Ugly Truth.
While I was applying my tape, I was amazed to see Nicole (Blister Girl aka Bubbles) and David, who I had driven to an urgent care in Ramona two days previously. I asked her what the Doctor did for her. She told me that he said “Yep, you’ve got blisters” and that was about it. Lame but true. “At least your feet didn’t turn out to be infected,” I replied, trying to point out the silver lining. She nodded. It wasn’t much of a lining, and we both knew it.
After that, they hiked on and I read my book for a bit, while eating the pop-tart. I knew that the trail left the creek and climbed up and out of the canyon after this, and I particularly remember that it was a hot climb in the sun. Taking a longer break down here in the trees next to a noisy creek was heavenly, so why rush it?
I met up with Bubbles and David one final time. They were taking a break next to the side trail to Lost Valley Spring. They were planning on getting their water down there. I was glad that I topped up my supply in the creek, even though it meant carrying it up a long grade. Plus, the Far Out app showed that there was water up ahead, precisely where I intended to camp. I would use that water for tomorrow’s hike. I bid adieu to my former hiking companions and moved on. I purposely didn’t mention where I was camping. Adieu means adieu, after all, and I was done with helping them out. They were no longer my responsibility, if they were ever mine to begin with. I’m not bitter, and I would gladly help Bubbles again if necessary, but I would have felt much better about my Mission of Mercy if they had volunteered money for gas or offered to buy me an ice cream in Ramona. I wouldn’t have taken the money, but I would have felt better just the same. It’s the lack of thought that counts.
After a short climb and a mile later I arrived at the “Dry Stream” campsite, where the water was flowing just fine, slow but clear. I found a decent campsite a bit further up the canyon and quickly took out my tent. Because there was a brief storm arriving the following night, I had switched tents that morning from my ultralight dyneema one to my heavier free-standing version. It withstood wind and rain quite well. Surely, Bubbles and David would never recognize it. I put my gear inside, and climbed in after it. They would never suspect a thing. I blew up my air mattress and unstuffed my sleeping bag. I took a horizontal break, reading my Kindle until the “danger” passed. My ploy, silly as it is, was successful, and I ended up with a night to myself. I’ll bet that they were happy, too, as I may have inadvertently gotten associated in their minds with the lame doctor who said to Blister Girl “Yep, you’ve got blisters.” Thank you, Doctor Obvious.
Later on, I collected additional water from the stream and cooked up some ramen noodles for dinner. I ate some salty chips for the electrolyte value, and munched some candy corn for sentimental reasons, to remind me of my childhood. It was a pleasant evening. I checked out my feet, and the tape remained firmly bound in place. Good. It only had to last three more days, and my feet felt perfectly fine. My new shoes were working, I was pleased to note. Life was good out here, on a fine Spring day in the desert. I would worry about tomorrow’s unsettled weather when it arrived.
For a topographic map of the hike see my CalTopo Page
For LOTS more photos of the trek see my Flickr Page
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