It was Day 26 of my big PCT hike, and I continued northbound, climbing steadily into the mountains beyond Tehachapi Pass, eventually entering yet another area full of giant windmills.
From PCT mile 565.1 to 579.2 Total: 14.1 miles 5/4
I woke up to a wet tent that morning. It had sprinkled lightly during the night, but I remained perfectly dry inside the tent. I didn’t even bother sitting up to check. It was a soothing sound, a faint pattering hiss, and it didn’t last all that long. Or perhaps I fell back to sleep, utterly unconcerned. To tell the truth, it was the loud horn blasts from freight trains that woke me up most often. There was a railroad crossing just down the street, and the engineers blast the horn four times at a crossing: Long Long Short Looonnnggg!
When I woke up at first light, I opened the door to look outside. There were puffy cumulus clouds blowing in from the west, but there were also patches of blue sky. I zipped the door shut and continued with my morning routine of hot oatmeal, a protein powder drink, and packing up all my gear. I had a big climb ahead of me, and I wanted to be sure to fuel up first. Then I filled all of my water bottles, as my supply had to last until the following day. Therefore, not only was I carrying six days of food, I was also carrying a gallon of water. Ugh. But it had to be done. So do it I did.
I put on my backpack and picked up the bear cannister and water jugs. Then I headed for the trailhead, and took a detour up to my favorite hidden cache spot under a big bush. I put the can and jug in the shade and headed out. I would come back here in a week to retrieve them after Vicki picked me up at Walker Pass. Meanwhile, I headed down to the road and started my hiking day. Off to the pass itself! I crossed the railroad tracks and strode up to the bridge over Highway 58. Technically, PCT Section F began on the other side of the highway. So long, Section E! Also, technically, everything south of here is considered to be the PCT Desert Section, whereas north of here I would be in the Sierra Section. Hooray for the Sierra, I said to myself yesterday evening, when I loaded up this next big section into my Far Out app (while I had such great cell signal). A new day and a new map. Excellent!
There was a water cache at the off-ramp trailhead, maintained by local Trail Angels, but I left it alone. Then I started hiking east along the highway as the trail paralleled it for a mile or so. Somewhere along here (back in 1995) was the spot where Cheryl Strayed began her famous hike that she described in the bestselling book (and movie) “Wild” which really made the popularity of the PCT take off. In fact, it was often said that the PCT changed dramatically post-Wild and suddenly got much more crowded. True! It also changed the gender ratio on the trail, such that nowadays it was much more balanced between male and female hikers. Good! Ladies can be just as fit as men, so why not? Prior to Wild, most of the backpackers were male, with the rare exception of ladies like my wife, Vicki. Generally, the only people you met out in the backcountry in those days were Boy Scouts, or older gentlemen (like me) who used to be Boy Scouts. I was happy to see this long-overdue change.
Once the trail left the highway, it began to ascend in earnest, at the typical ten percent grade that it usually does. It was a cruisey, easy-to-hike trail, albeit uphill all the way. Even with my heavy load it was no serious problem. It helped that there was shade and the air was cool, thanks to the change in the weather. Not surprisingly, the views got better and better as I climbed. I was in Photographer Heaven with all these puffy clouds, and I took a ton of photos. True, I missed using my Canon DSLR, but I didn’t miss the weight around my neck!
I climbed and climbed. I met several small groups of hikers that were still packing up from last night. Slugabeds, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud. Instead, talking to them was a great way to get some info and meet new hikers. We can’t all be early birds. Plus, it was a good excuse to stop and take a short break on this relentless climb.
The trail mostly stayed along a ridge that projected south into the Tehachapi Valley. As I climbed up the ridge, I noticed that the clouds were really starting to pile up, arriving out of the west. In the east was the desert, which still managed to boil them off. I also felt like I was getting much closer to the flat bottoms of those clouds.
The air grew colder and the breeze a bit stronger. Suddenly, I saw white things dropping in front of me. I looked more closely and it was snow! Not very much, barely detectible in fact, but snow just the same. I laughed and got out my GoPro and took some photos and videos, for proof if nothing else. I wasn’t expecting any to accumulate, and in a way it was better than rain, as this stuff bounced off without melting. I looked to the west, and there were clouds out there that were obviously raining or snowing. I hoped they drifted elsewhere!
The threat of weather didn’t last all that long, and I kept on plodding. The trail got easy after the first big climb was over, and then it joined with a dirt road. The Far Out app comments complained about this road, as it lasted for about five miles and was sometimes rough from use by off-road vehicles. They sounded like a bunch of whiners to me, like noobs who had never hiked a poorly maintained trail full of blowdowns and rockslides. Oh well; they would learn eventually. This was BLM Land, I believe, and they have much different rules than other federal agencies. Just the same, I didn’t hear or see anything motorized, and the tracks were all made by hiking boots. So I continued walking, enjoying the flowers and trees.
Interestingly, I was expecting lots of windmills that day, and I saw hundreds of them far off in the distance in every direction, but there were none along the PCT. Until I was about a quarter mile from my proposed campsite. Of course. I was still on the dirt road section, and pretty soon I saw a flat zone that must be the spot. I checked the app, and it was the right place. I was within a hundred yards of a huge windmill, and there were others further north. I could hear the whooshing sound as each blade made a pass toward me. Well, I survived it a few days ago, and I’d probably survive it this time, I told myself. So I got out my tent and set up camp.
It wasn’t the most wind-sheltered spot in the world, but then again the wind wasn’t all that bad, either. Just the same, it was cold up here. I put on my Goretex layer as soon as I stopped hiking to maintain my warmth, then got the tent ready. There was just enough breeze that staying outside was unthinkable, so I got inside and into my warm layers, including my legs within my down bag. Oh, yes. This was just fine, I thought. I got out my Kindle and read for a while, then decided to cook up an early dinner. I waved hello to a few other hikers as they passed, but nobody else camped in this area that night. Maybe they were scared of windmills.
Later on, as the sun was getting low, I decided to stretch my legs by going outside. I was getting stiff just laying there in my tent. I put on my shoes and hobbled out of the tent. Ouch! My heels were hurting a bit. Maybe they were stiff, too. They hadn’t hurt while I was hiking that day, after all.
Then I walked over toward my nearest neighbor, the giant windmill. I took some photos and videos, as the sky was very pretty with the cumulus clouds and the evening light. Good stuff.
After that, it was time for bed. I felt pretty good about things, as this was supposedly one of those big-bad-and-ugly uphill days on the PCT. But it turned out to be the same old ten percent grade, after all. Nothing that couldn’t be accomplished by a certified hiking machine such as myself. And all the rest of us out here.
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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