On my 41st day on the PCT, I visited the Station Fire Memorial, hiked up and over Mount Gleason, passed the Messenger Flats Campground with its deer hunters, and eventually arrived at the North Fork Ranger Station.
From PCT mile 420.8 to 436.1 Total: 15.3 miles 10/21
I woke up early, as usual. The lights of Palmdale were glowing in the distance to the north, and the air was cool and calm. I was worried that it might get windy up here on the ridgetop, but it never happened. I stood up, took some photos, then headed back to the tent to cook my breakfast. I was feeling good, because my pack was lighter now that my food was mostly gone, and it didn’t look like it would be a very difficult day. Vicki and I hiked through this area two years ago, back in 2021, and I knew what to expect. It would probably get hot again later in the afternoon, but there should also be a few trees to provide shade.
When I began hiking it was fairly dark, but there was still some light in the sky. I wore my headlamp for a bit, and left it on even after it got light, just in case there were any deer hunters present. Morning and evening are the hunting hours, and I was not planning to be anyone’s prey today. As I hiked, the sunrise color developed, and soon the local peaks showed the sun. There weren’t many clouds and I knew it was going to be a toasty day. Meanwhile, the trail was smooth and easygoing. Nice.
As I hiked, there were plenty of overhanging branches on the trail. These plants didn’t have thorns, initially, but when I reached the second road crossing, there was a ton of buckthorn (whitethorn) along the trail. Last time, Vicki and I left the trail at this point and hiked on the parallel forest road. I checked the comments in the Far Out app, hoping that someone had done some trail maintenance over the last two years, but no. This was sounding like a sufferfest, so I opted to head up the road for a mile or two. There was a spot where I could rejoin the trail just before the climb up Mount Gleason.
I was glad I took the road. I got extra views to the south that the PCT never saw, and I was able to show my respects at the Station Fire Memorial, where six firefighters died when the wildfire overran their camp. A somber place, indeed. The chapparal had regrown fairly well in this dry region, but the pine trees mostly died for good. The forest service had been working on a reforestation project for many years, and it was beginning to show some real progress. I took a break near the old helipad site, and continued on the road until it drew near the PCT once again.
Last time, Vicki and I stayed on the road the whole way over the top of the mountain, but I decided to dare the trail this time. Yes, it was still overgrown. Luckily, I was also wearing long pants (unlike Vicki) and so I made it through the scratchy zone unscathed. The trail made many switchbacks as it climbed up the northern side of Mount Gleason. As always, the views got better with higher elevation.
I took a big break when I neared the top. I was sweating like mad. It was really turning out to be a hot day, even up here in the mountains. Oh well. I was glad that I wasn’t crossing the Mojave Desert like some of the SOBO hikers probably were doing right this minute. Surely it was in the nineties down there. Hopefully they were hiking at night, instead. Earlier this year, I chose my timing and crossed it during a seventy degree day, complete with superblooming Spring flowers. Those flowers were probably dried up husks by now. Up here near the top, there were still some original pines left standing, most likely because there were radio antennas up on the summit. Expensive items like that get extra attention from firefighting aircraft. And here I was now, enjoying the shade. Nice.
The PCT popped over the ridge onto the southwestern side of Mount Gleason. I was a bit beyond the halfway mark by this time, and the hardest part was finished. The trail descended from here, heading down toward the Messenger Flats Campground and its namesake, Messenger Peak. I saw the trucks and tents of deer hunters that were staying in the campground, so I made sure my orange was showing. Safety First! Especially when it’s my own.
For some reason, it felt as though I should be almost at my destination, yet it wasn’t so. There were many miles of hiking yet to do along the north side of the long ridge near Messenger Peak. And there wasn’t much shade. I stopped for a breather when I found an actual tree. Meanwhile, there were still good views to the north. I passed by the only water source in the region, and it was still trickling along, even in October, thanks largely to the rains from Hurricane Hilary. This water was my backup source, but I still had plenty in my pack. I would surely make it the rest of the way to camp with what I carried. I only had four miles to go after hiking eleven thus far, and most of it was downhill.
As the sun got lower, I found more shade. Plus, there were oaks that managed to avoid the Station Fire. Unfortunately, oaks are often accompanied by tiny gnats, usually in Spring. This time, however, they were a bit larger than gnats, much more like tiny flies. They buzzed in my face and were totally annoying, but at least they didn’t bite. Maybe they liked the heat, or maybe the late rains got their reproductive cycle going for an extra round this year. Normally, the bugs are all gone in SoCal by October.
The trees didn’t last. Soon I was back on the ridge, hiking through low scrub. The views were good but the sun was hot. Just ahead was the saddle on the ridge where the PCT hopped over to the north side again, and began the long descent to the Ranger Station. It was a relief to get there, to tell the truth. And down I hiked.
Within an hour, blasting downhill, I was fast approaching the North Fork Ranger Station. It was perched on a saddle between canyons running north and south. A set of big power lines ran through the valleys leading there. Since there were several buildings in the area, this region got special treatment during the big fire. I was happy to see the shady pines in front of me, as I would be camping under them. The last time we were here it got a bit breezy, as saddles often do, but today it didn’t seem too bad.
I arrived at the North Fork Ranger Station with plenty of daylight left. I put down my backpack and got out my big water jug, then walked over to the nearby picnic table. Todd, the caretaker of the Ranger Station (which is usually closed) leaves out water for PCT hikers. He’s a regular fixture on the trail through here. He knows that there often isn’t any water for fifteen miles in each direction from here. Great guy!
As I expected, I was the only person camping there that night. Sadly, the breeze was blowing strong, after all. It was a bit of a challenge to get the tent set up, but not too bad. It wasn’t howling or anything. Once I got it up and my gear inside, I sat down on my air mattress for a rest. Yikes! The wind made a vortex in the lee of my tent, and the tiny flies were having a grand old time! They were everywhere, in an insane concentration. Like I said, they didn’t bite, but they were ultra-annoying. Hundreds of them! I got up and cooked my dinner at the picnic tables, just to be free of them, even though the wind nearly blew out my stove. I blocked it with my body and hands, and soon enough I was eating my ramen noodles in peace. I read my book for a while, dreading the return to the tent.
Eventually, of course, I had to go in the tent. The air was getting cooler. So I made the move. I got in the tent and, with the screen door open, waved my arms like a maniac for a while, slowly but surely scaring the flies away, one by one, until the breeze would catch them and whelm them away. Soon, the tent was nearly bug-free. I decided that it was good enough and zipped up the screen. The stubborn flies that refused to learn a lesson met a sad fate soon afterward. And then I was a happy camper once again. Todd dropped by and brought me some treats. What a great guy. I wasn’t expecting Trail Magic at this time of year.
After that, I decided to set my alarm for extra-early. I remembered the next few miles of mostly downhill trail, and I didn’t care if I hiked it in the dark. With only eight miles left to go before heading home, I was like a horse nearing the stables. I just wanted to get this section over with. Then I went to sleep before sunset, a happy hiker once again. It’s the only kind of hiker to be, after all.
see: https://thetrek.co/grizzly-smurf-perspective-social-work-psychotherapy-and-thru-hiking/
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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