It was my 30th day on the PCT, and I hiked north from the old Gold Mines in the desert into the higher mountains of the Kiavah Wilderness, in howling winds, passing the water cache at Bird Spring Pass near Wyleys Knob, then climbing over Skinner Peak at 7000 feet elevation.
From PCT mile 625.5 to 639.6 Total: 14.1 miles 5/8
After a relatively calm night in the tent, the wind began increasing in intensity when I woke up. I heard the wind making noise in the dark, but most of it was way up high somewhere, and my tent remained unaffected. But after dawn the gusts got lower, on occasion, and shook my tent. I decided to eat and pack quickly, so I wouldn’t have to deal with wildly flapping nylon. The air was also quite cold, as if this weather was part of a post-storm westerly blast of clear cold air. I decided to wear my Goretex hard shell right away, as a windbreaker, and my gloves as well.
After yesterday’s miles-long jog eastward, the PCT was heading north once again. This region was BLM land, so there were plenty of old dirt roads and ATV tracks. There were also the ruins of abandoned gold mines, old concrete structures, rusted vehicles, and sluices for extracting gold without water. The ground looked like pure sand, so I wondered what type of mining this could be. Was this an ancient riverbed?
Th sky was cloudless, and, although the sun blazed down as it rose higher to my right, the wind was even colder as it blew in from my left. I kept the windproof hood on underneath my wide-brimmed hat, and needed the chinstrap to keep it on my head. Being the PCT, the trail only tended in one direction; in reality it faced any which way in order to reach its eventual northerly goal. But the hiking was cruisey, with the exception of a few patches of sloggy sand along the way.
The trail crossed over a ridge at the gold mines, dropped into a wide valley, then climbed back onto an even higher ridge. This is when the increasing winds truly took on some significance. They were strong, and the gusts were particularly potent. My big backpack began acting like a sail, with the wind blasts pushing me off the trail. I could feel sand and small gravel pelting my legs as I hiked, so I kept my eyes squinted nearly shut, just in case.
Eventually, the trail ducked into the lee of the ridge, and that was when I took my morning snack break. It felt good to get out my kindle and relax in the sunshine for a while. But these times never last long enough. As an amateur physicist and mathematician, I knew full well that as your forward velocity dropped to zero then your estimated time of arrival increased to infinity. So I put away the Kindle and put my backpack on once more. Time to hike!
At the halfway point of my day was the Bird Spring Pass water cache. Like yesterday’s cache at Kelso Road, this cache was maintained by Trail Angels, and had close to two hundred gallons of water on hand, in five gallon jugs. Thanks! They also had hand sanitizer and soap (there was a notorious norovirus outbreak centered here during one recent year), plus plastic containers with charged battery banks for phone charging. Much like water, hikers were increasingly reliant on their phones, and many had no idea how to use a map and compass, if they carried them at all. As an older hiker, I will now wax curmudgeonly about how sad and pampered the younger generation is these days, as I type up my blog on the latest high-tech computer, while never actually using the map and compass that I carried along as so much dead weight. Heh. I’m such a map nerd that I had two phones, two battery packs, and an InReach with me. Three GPS units! Only Armageddon would make me use that map.
I filled up my water jugs but didn’t stay long. I had a big climb ahead of me, into the Kiavah Wilderness. Over 1600 feet in 3.5 miles, which isn’t huge for the PCT, at roughly the usual ten percent grade, so I wasn’t worried at all. My pack was heavier with the water, but I only had one night’s worth of food left, so it was a wash.
The wind was still blowing strong as I climbed, and the wildflowers were particularly abundant on the southwest-facing slopes of Skinner Peak. The big PCT sign said that this was the Scodie Segment, because the Scodie Mountains were the main range between here and Walker Pass. No signs mentioned that this was also part of the Sequoia National Forest, but a map nerd like me already knew that.
And the best part about climbing a mountain was that the views kept getting better and better.
The trail ducked into the lee of Skinner Peak as it traversed along just below the summit, and suddenly new vistas of the land to the north appeared. The High Sierra was visible, with the mighty fourteeners of Mounts Whitney and Langley standing tall in the sun, their flanks coated with the huge snows of 2023. Olancha Peak, at 12k feet was the nearest, and the PCT climbed to 10k over its western ridge. It is considered to be the tallest peak in the Southern Sierra. The High Sierra starts just north of it and continues all the way into northern Yosemite at Matterhorn Peak. Just below is a screenshot from the PeakFinder Earth app, which I highly recommend – it is surely one of the best five dollar bills I’ve ever spent. No lie. Every map nerd and wilderness hiker should have it.
At this point I was well into the Scodie Mountain range. The trail began descending from the heights of Skinner Peak. It was still a dry country out here, but at least there were a few trees. And more of them in protected areas. Meanwhile, the wildflowers were beautiful. I was so thankful to be hiking this section in 2023!
After descending, the trail flattened out near my proposed campsite. As I padded softly through the oak forest, I saw some movement up ahead in the trees. I stopped immediately. It was a bobcat, walking slowly, perpendicular to the trail, and it hadn’t seen me. It had very long legs, and no tail to speak of. Definitely a bobcat. This was the first bobcat I’d ever seen! Super-rare, as they usually detect you first and disappear instantly. If I had my big DSLR camera with the zoom lens I might have gotten a photo, but not today. So I have no proof, but I can still see it in my mind’s eye. I checked the map, and the trail curved around just ahead of me, so that my campsite (and therefore me) would be in its eventual path. I doubted that it was rabid or insane, but I still searched around for a weapon, just in case. I picked up a wimpy stick and brandished it menacingly. This would have to do.
When I arrived at the campsite in midafternoon, I finally met up with the Tramily of Deja Vu and Company, who were taking a break. It was a regular reunion, of sorts. When I told them about the bobcat they understood why I had a stick in my hand. Then they told me that they were hiking onward to McIver’s Cabin, which was about seven miles from here. They also said that they camped on the windy ridge I climbed earlier today, and had a miserable night in flapping tents. I was so glad that I stayed in what I now call Joshua Tree Valley. I gave them some advice on what to do when they reached Kennedy Meadows, based on my extensive knowledge of the PCT within the High Sierra, and wished them the best of luck in the future.
After that, I set up my tent in yet another sheltered valley, this time under some oak trees. It was a nice campsite, and I was happy to take a load off my feet. I texted Vicki via my InReach and generally chilled out in the tent. I only had one more night on the trail and fourteen miles to hike tomorrow, and then I would be meeting Vicki in her car. I was not going to hike onward to Kennedy Meadows as there was still considerable snow within some 8000 foot mountains north of Walker Pass. I would worry about that section later. Plus, I had already hiked it last year, in 2022, so it wasn’t exactly high on my list of priorities.
Eventually, I cooked up my last package of ramen noodles and ate it while reading my Kindle, as usual. Some routines are comforting when on a long trek. I also checked the Far Out app to see what was coming on the trail ahead of me. This is fun to do in the evening.
As the sky was cloudless, and I was down in a valley, I didn’t bother staying up for the sunset. In fact, I set my phone’s alarm to wake me at O-Dark-Thirty the next morning. My new plan was to crank out those fourteen miles and arrive early enough to make Vicki’s life easier. And to see her sooner, of course. Yes, it was lonely hiking solo, but it was beautiful and fulfilling, too. And today had been a lot of fun; even the howling wind was fun. As long as that bobcat didn’t attack me I would consider the day a total success.
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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