On my 45th day on the PCT in 2023, I hiked down into Holcomb Valley and along Holcomb Creek, where I saw plenty of Autumn color, made several creek crossings, and eventually arrived at Splinters Cabin at Deep Creek.
From PCT mile 282.6 to 298.5 Total: 15.9 miles 11/2
It was early November, when the nights are long. I went to bed at sunset and couldn’t help but wake up in the pre-dawn darkness after far too many hours of restless sleep. I don’t need a lot of sleep, but I didn’t have much choice. I didn’t want to hike in the dark, either. Seeing the trail is important when you’re a photographer, even though I do night hike occasionally when I expect a boring view. Today was not going to be boring, as I had been here before with Vicki, back in 2016, and we really enjoyed the hike.
I was also pleased to discover that the temperature that morning was closer to fifty degrees than the thirty I expected. What a difference being perched on a ridge makes, as opposed to being down in the cold katabatic flow at the bottom of a deep canyon. In other words, today was starting out great!
I put on my pack and started hiking. The next three miles were all downhill. These were the miles that I didn’t do yesterday afternoon, and I was glad to be doing them now. The sun would have been in front of me rather than rising behind me. The light was lovely as I hiked, with views out west to the San Gabriel Mountains and down below to the valley floor.
As I neared the bottom of the valley, the air grew colder and colder. Soon, I noticed frost on the plants, and one seeping spring even had chunks of ice! Brrr! I kept my gloves on and my legs moving. I was so glad I hadn’t camped down here, even though the campground itself was perfectly fine. It even had a fenced-in outhouse with open sky for a roof. There also was water in the creek a short distance away.
The trail crossed Holcomb Creek on a forest road. There was a great spot to collect water as it poured out of a steel culvert below the road, but I didn’t need any. I was still flush with water from my cache yesterday afternoon. So I continued down the trail, which paralleled Holcomb Creek for the next few miles. The willow leaves were all yellow for Autumn along here, and it was very pretty.
After a couple miles along the creek, the trail climbed up onto a rolling plateau for two more miles. There were plenty of oak trees in their Fall Colors, and it was very beautiful. The tall grasses of Spring had long since gone to seed, but there were still a few late-blooming flowers to be found here and there, tucked into shady spots and north-facing slopes. Back in 2016, Vicki and I carried two gallons of water from the creek to a spot up here with a great view down the Holcomb Valley.
When the PCT descended into the bottom of the valley things got interesting. There were three creek crossings to deal with, and there was plenty of lush green brush down there. The big Spring floods after the record snowfall of 2023 really trashed these crossings, leaving logs and boulders strewn every which way. Thanks to the remnants of Hurricane Hilary in late Summer, there was still plenty of water flowing. I decided that I wasn’t going to take off my shoes if I could help it, and I saved weight by leaving my water shoes at home. There would be no barefoot crossings for me. I hunted around, up and downstream from the semi-official spots, to find alternates using fallen logs and big boulders. To tell the truth, it was fun, but it was also slow. Barefoot might have been faster.
After a one mile stretch between the second and third crossings, it was time to do it again. This one was more difficult, as the nicely placed rock-hopping stones were submerged. I found an alternate, and really struggled to haul my way through the brush. I even cut my hand doing it. But my feet were dry, and that’s what really mattered to me. I collected some water here and purified it using my chlorine drops. This gave me an excuse to take a long break on the far side, reading my book in the shade, and letting my socks air out in the breeze. I met some SOBO hikers and we exchanged trail wisdom on what to expect ahead of us. I told them about how icy it was down below in the valley, and about the final water at the culvert before the long climb to Big Bear. They were all looking forward to a stay in a motel or AirBnB, along with one of their last resupplies before Mexico, in less than 300 miles.
I knew what to expect up ahead: A climb in the hot sun, up and out of the Holcomb Creek drainage, through a treeless zone of chapparal. The last part was downhill, as the trail descended into the Deep Creek drainage. This miserable zone lasted about three miles. The temperature was rather high, down here at 5000 feet elevation. Tomorrow I would be dropping even lower, to 3000 feet, to finish my 5000-foot descent out of Big Bear via thirty miles of trail. There was supposed to be a heat wave arriving, too. Even in November, Southern California could attain scorching temperatures. Or snow! But no snow this time. I would have to deal with the heat tomorrow.
Time went by, and my feet kept plodding along, beating out the rhythm of the trail. The deep cleft of Deep Creek lay just ahead. I was planning to camp there tonight, and it felt good to know that my day’s efforts were almost at an end. There was an arched metal footbridge that spanned the creek. It must have cost a small fortune to build, but I was grateful, as Deep Creek can really roar with water at times. Having a bridge makes a big difference. Plus, it was fun to cross!
I looked around as I crossed the bridge, and noticed that there were no people here at all. Last time, on Memorial Day weekend, this place had been a regular zoo, with humans everywhere, swimming down below in the creek, and swarming all over the place. Splinters Cabin was just up the hill from the bridge, and there was a big parking lot. But no one was there this time. It was like a ghost town. I read in the Far Out app that they closed off access to the road back in 2019, after the road got washed out. They never repaired it, however, probably because of campers trashing the place, and never leaving what was supposed to be a Day Use Only area. Yes, I knew about this rule, and yet I intended to camp there anyway. The bathrooms were locked and I would be carrying out my trash, so I didn’t much care. Leave No Trace Principles still applied, as far as I was concerned.
After scouting around for a camping spot, and finding most places too rocky or too sloped, I opted to set up camp directly on the concrete surrounding the original walls they built. According to the USFS website:
Splinters Cabin was built in 1922 by Le Roy Raymond. Le Roy and his brother had visited the area in 1918 and applied for permits to build the cabin, completing it in 1922. Ley Roy dedicated the cabin “Splinters”, since his wife always stated everything he built seemed to be full of splinters.
At least I wouldn’t suffer from splinters on the concrete! My tent was free-standing, and I had an air mattress, so it was a great spot. I got everything ready for the evening and put on my night clothing as it was getting cool in the shade as the sun descended in the west behind the canyon walls. Then I cooked and ate my ramen noodles at the picnic table under the awning, like a civilized person. I checked my water, and I still had enough to make it to my next planned refill spot tomorrow. It would be nice to hike with less water weight for a few miles.
After that, it was time for bed. I expected to wake up early, as the nights were getting very long and there was only so much sleeping I could force myself to do. I was looking forward to tomorrow’s hike, as the Deep Creek valley was especially stunning, even compared with today. Holcomb Creek had been a good hike, so I was happy.
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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