On my 51st day on the PCT, I climbed uphill into the San Jacinto Wilderness from Fobes Saddle, passing Spitler Peak, Apache Peak, Antsell Rock, South Peak, and Red Tahquitz, to end up hiking through snow-covered Tahquitz Valley, and eventually set up camp near Saddle Junction.
From PCT mile 166.6 to 179.5 Total: 13.0 miles 12/15
The nights were long in mid-December, so I woke up early, mostly because I couldn’t sleep any longer. I also wanted to get moving, as I had a long day of climbing ahead, and zero hours of daylight to squander. I ate my hot breakfast in the dark on Fobes Saddle, then packed up everything. It was cold, about thirty degrees, and I left my outer windbreaker layers on. Then I put on my backpack and headed north, uphill toward Spitler Peak, the first mountain of the day.
The internet shows several values for the height of Spitler Peak, but Peakbagger claims that its elevation is 7440+ feet. That was good enough for me, since I wouldn’t be bagging it anyway. The PCT rarely visits the summits of peaks, it merely approaches the top and then traverses around them. This allows the industrious ones to get a climb under their belts while granting the normal hikers nearly as good a view. Win Win! I was only a hiker today, not a bagger, and I have to say that the views were excellent.
Most of my fellow PCT thru hikers from April got about as far as the Spitler Peak Trail, met with tons of icy snow, and followed the advice of the PCTA and headed downhill on this Alternate trail. Why die? Plus, Idyllwild was up ahead, and it was a very hiker-friendly town, perfect for a resupply before heading on to the next one in Big Bear. But there was no need to do that in December, so I hiked onward.
The next mountain along this mighty ridge was Apache Peak, at 7567 feet, and it was a bit higher. Apache had two bumps on top and a flat plateau between them, plus a side trail down to a spring. It wasn’t the greatest water source, but one of the only ones in this area. When Vicki and I were here back in 2013, the sign on the post had a note attached saying “DRY” and this time the sign was missing entirely. But the post remained. Maybe it burned in the Mountain Fire of 2013, or simply fell off due to age. Just the same, I still had enough water left to reach my planned fill-up spot, much closer to my destination. Why carry more weight uphill than I had to? No thanks.
After Apache, the views were awesome, mostly toward the northeast and the path of the PCT along the steep side of the ridge. Much of the trail was on the north face of the ridge, so that this was typically a very sketchy section in the Spring, when the snow and ice remained unmelted much later. Hikers had gotten injured along here, and at least one died (that I recall). I knew this as I hiked along, and was not amused when I had to walk on a layer of icy, crusty snow. There had been a small storm a week ago, which I foolishly imagined had surely melted by now. And in a way I was correct: It did melt. A little. And then it refroze into slippery ice. Ah, yes. Just what a solo hiker didn’t need.
The icy conditions continued, off and on, for the next two miles as I hiked along below Antsell Rock (7679 feet) and two unnamed peaklets to either side of it. This section of trail had a rockslide two years earlier, and daring hikers were swinging past it hanging onto a rather questionable rope! The rest took the Spitler Peak Trail to avoid it. It was repaired last season, so I had no fear that I would have to act like Tarzan. Except for the ice and the deadly exposure if I fell. No worries! Right?
The next peak on the “Desert Divide” ridge was called South Peak, or Southwell Peak, and it was even taller, at 7840+ feet. The trail made some long switchbacks as it climbed up the side of the peak, and the views back along the ridge were truly excellent. This area burned badly during the 2013 Mountain Fire, and now the big dead trunks were beginning to topple across the trail. No crews had been along this way to take care of them, and getting past huge dead trees on steep slopes was not fun at all. But I did it, of course, just like everyone else had. I had no choice.
I knew that the next stretch, between South Peak and Red Tahquitz, was going to be the the highlight of the day. The trail followed directly along the top of a narrow ridgeline, with steep drop-offs on either side. Very dramatic. When Vicki and I were here, there were strong gusts out of the west. This time, there were strong gusts out of the east. But I didn’t care. I was too busy taking photos and videos. And watching out for some Poodle Dog Bush that I read about in the Far Out app. Oh, it was there alright, hanging over the trail in a menacing way. It often establishes itself after wildfires, but I wondered how it managed to take root here. There wasn’t any soil to speak of, and the rain water would run off immediately. But there it was, thriving.
The trail angled uphill after that, but luckily stayed far below Red Tahquitz, at 8720 feet elevation. Oh, I still ended up crossing the ridge at 8300 feet, but at least I didn’t have to climb an extra 400 to the summit. The real problem along here, however, was the excessive number of fallen trees. Some of them were huge, and getting around them always took extra time. You either clambered onto them, or climbed steeply up and down around them, or even right through them! But it always took time. One of the commenters in the app coined the phrase “Blowdown Slowdown” and he was right.
As I neared the ridge where the PCT would cross over into the Tahquitz Valley, I discovered that the pine trees at the wonderful campsite Vicki and I used remained unburned. It brought back fond memories. I decided to take a long break here. This would be my last chance to gaze down the Desert Divide, the long ridge that I climbed during the last two days. It was also roughly the highest point of my day’s hike. I truly deserved this rest. After this, I would be hiking west below the northern slope of Grey Tahquitz, staying high above the Tahquitz Valley.
Unfortunately, being on the northern slope of anything up at 8000+ feet elevation, at this time of year, meant hiking on crunchy snow and ice. Luckily for me, a few earlier hikers had already stomped some footprints into the snow, back when it was fresh and soft. Those footprints melted out more than other parts of the trail, and I was left with bare icy dirt spots to step on. Much better than slippery icy snow spots! At least the slope of the hill wasn’t steep, and the trail was almost flat. I took my time with foot placement, but I wasn’t slowed down too much. And I didn’t fall! A major plus.
It was already getting late in the afternoon by the time I reached Tahquitz Creek, my water source for the day. I filled up a gallon of water from the flow falling between the icicles and took the time to add my chlorine drops to treat it. Then I distributed it among smaller water containers. It would be ready to drink in thirty minutes, but I still had some of my original water left that I carried from home. Home. It seemed so long ago that I was there. This long climb was really getting to me, I guess. And I was very tired.
I pulled out my CalTopo app and looked at the trail options. There were two routes to Saddle Junction: The PCT and the lower, easier trail via Tahquitz Meadow. All this snow had really taken me by surprise today, and I was heartily sick of it. I decided to take the alternate route to the junction, to save time and decrease my risk of injury.
Soon enough, I arrived in Saddle Junction. I expected to see my first humans here, as it was a popular day-hiking destination, but no. Not this late in the day. I wandered north a bit more on the trail. My original plan was to hike another two miles and a thousand feet higher before making camp. My legs had another plan. They wanted to stop right here, even though it was only thirteen miles hiked today. This time, the brain heartily concurred with their analysis. Working together, brain and legs found a pleasant camping spot on a small rise to the north of the junction. It felt great to set down the water-heavy backpack. I got out the tent and set it up right away, in a snow-free spot that had a bit of wind protection, just in case it increased during the night.
I walked a bit to the west, to the edge of the drop-off down toward Idyllwild. I was hoping to get a bit of cell phone signal. Nothing doing. But the view was nice, and it felt good to have the sun shining on my black goretex windbreaker.
Even with the sun shining, the air was cold up here at 8200 feet. And I knew it was going to be freezing cold by morning. That was OK, as I had a very warm sleeping bag, and plenty of extra goose down garments. I would be sleeping just fine. It was waking up that was the trouble, but that wasn’t my problem right now. Let tomorrow take care of itself. I cooked up my ramen noodles, drank my Gatorade, and munched on salty chips, all while relaxing on my air mattress and reading my Kindle. Yes, life was good again, and my most difficult day was behind me.
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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