I hiked ten more miles this day, descending from Combs Peak Saddle into the Anza-Borrego Desert, where I saw plenty of blooming wildflowers, and eventually camped on a ridge just above Nance Canyon.
From PCT mile 129.2 to 140.2 Total: 10.9 miles 4/13
It was my fourteenth day on the trail, but it actually began in the middle of the night in a misty gusty windstorm. It was already breezy when I went to bed, so I was used to the sound of the tent flapping a bit during gusts, and I was sleeping decently enough, at first. It wasn’t until after midnight that the gusts grew strong enough to push the wall of the tent up against me. Rather insistently, in fact. I tried scooching over into the center, but it was already too late: I was awake. I grabbed my headlamp and sat up straight. The tent was shaking impressively, and heeled over considerably during the bigger gusts, which happened every few minutes. I heard the sound of tiny raindrops hissing onto the tent, like being blasted by tiny grains of sand. Not surprisingly, my bladder became equally insistent, so I put on my down jacket and hard shell, and prepared to go outside. I grabbed my GoPro and took a video, then put on my shoes and went out there. It was quite the experience, and I’d recommend it to anyone. Sometimes weather really needs to be observed directly, and this was one of those times. I’ll let the videos convey some of the pleasure of clouds whipping by in the pitch darkness on the high saddle of a mountain. The only thing they can’t do is convey the feeling of a fine mist pelting into your face, so that you had to squint in order to protect your eyes.
Afterward, when I returned to the tent, I was thankful that I’d pitched it so close to the bushes on the south. They were lifesavers, and took upon themselves the brunt of the wind. I was thankful for them, for my sturdy tent, and for the fact that it wasn’t raining or sleeting. I shifted my air mattress toward the door and away from the windward wall, in the hopes that the tent wouldn’t touch me during gusts. The sound I could sleep through, but not getting prodded physically. Then I read my book for a while until I grew sleepy once more. It works for me.
When dawn arrived, I woke up and unzipped the doorway. Yep, conditions were unchanged. Except that now I could see that I couldn’t see a thing, except flying mist and some nearby bushes. I rezipped the door. No sense in going out there until I was darned good and ready. So I sat on my comfy air mattress in my warm sleeping bag while cooking and eating my hot oatmeal breakfast. Good stuff. Then I got dressed for the day, and packed up everything else. All of my gear was in waterproof bags, so I wasn’t worried, and it wasn’t really raining much anyway. It was simply a soggy driving mist. I put on my shoes and stepped outside, then reached into the tent to remove all the gear and set it aside. After that, it was time to take down the tent, holding onto it carefully so that it didn’t blow away. I’ve gotten good at this over the years.
This wasn’t my first rodeo, in other words. I wore my old goretex hardshell jacket, which wasn’t truly waterproof any more, but I also decided to avoid the equally non-waterproof pants. I mostly use the goretex as a windbreaker. This time I put on my Frogg Togg rain pants, because I knew that all the bushes were already soaking wet, and would be transferring their large droplets of collected mist onto my legs as I brushed past them on the trail. It was supposed to get sunnier out later, so I really just wanted to avoid getting wet and hypothermic in the breeze. And it worked!
After a misty descent with zero visibility, I eventually emerged beneath the cloud layer. The trailside brush became dry, and I took off the Frogg Togg pants. They were pretty cheap items and I wasn’t surprised that the bottom edges became ragged and torn thanks to the stiff branches down low. The trail hadn’t been trimmed in a few years, so that’s the result. Oh well. They served their purpose and that’s what mattered. I put them on my list to buy again someday, because they worked, and hiked onward into the desert.
After several winding miles of trail through unremarkable rolling hills and valleys, I arrived at the side trail to Tule Spring. This was today’s primary water source. I hiked down and filled up all of my containers, about five liters in all. This was more than enough on a cool day in the desert, but I didn’t care. I needed just enough for dinner and breakfast, plus the hike out to the car tomorrow. I filled my gallon jug first, then added my Aquamira Chlorine drops and mixed it up. Then I distributed it into the other containers. While I waited for the magic of chemistry to happen, I took a lunch break and read my book. It was nice down there by the spring, sunny and pleasant.
After that, I was truly hiking within the Desert part of the trail. There were plenty of wildflowers blooming, cacti were being properly spiny, and there was even one tree along the way. The trail was cruisey and smooth, and I was enjoying myself thoroughly.
It didn’t take long before I passed by the old guzzler cistern. It wasn’t very appetizing this year. Back in 2015 I foolishly forgot to get water at Tule Spring and we ended up drinking from the cistern; it tasted fine but I swore I wouldn’t do that again. I crossed over Coyote Canyon Road where Vicki and I once camped. Coyote Canyon was the path taken by the Spanish Explorer Juan Batista de Anza and his party of conquistadors, long ago when Spain claimed this land, and is the main path in the park’s name, between the towns of Anza and Borrego Springs. Parts of that road are now closed to vehicles, to protect the Bighorn Sheep, so there was little to no traffic there these days. Just the same, I decided to hike a bit further, to Nance Canyon, as it was a bit too windy near the road.
The Far Out app mentioned another campsite a bit further beyond Nance Canyon, so I climbed up to it in order to get a view. It was breezy up there, too, but then again, it was breezy everywhere that day. I picked the best camping spot I could find and set up the tent. This was my last night on the trail in this section, at least until the snow melted more.
The tent was still a bit wet from last night, so I let it dry in the breeze, which took no time at all, even though it wasn’t very sunny. Then I loaded it with gear, and headed inside. I got into my warmer night clothing right away. Last night’s storm seemed to be dragging a lot of cold air behind it, and there was still a chance that one of those puffy cumulus clouds might douse me with a shower.
As the sun went down, I cooked and ate my boring old ramen dinner, then chowed down a bag of salty chips while reading my book in the tent. I came out one more time and took a few pictures, then headed off to bed. The day had certainly started out exciting, but now it was just another mellow day in the desert. Another ten miles were ticked off on my trail notes, with yet another twelve miles to go. I texted Vicki via my InReach device, and let her know that I would be home tomorrow night. We’d both be happy about that.
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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