On my 53rd day hiking on the PCT Desert Section I hiked from high on Fuller Ridge above San Gorgonio Pass, thousands of feet down to the town of Snow Creek, then onward across the desert floor to the Interstate 10 overcrossing, where I completed California Section B, and also finished my 2023 Desert Section hike.
From PCT mile 195.4 to 209.5 Total: 14.1 miles 12/17
It was a long but pleasant night up on the high ridge above the deep valley. During the night, I heard a few train whistles, but they were very far away. The night was just about as long as it gets, however, as Winter would arrive in three days. I woke up after far too many hours of sleep, yet it was still full dark. I checked the time and decided to start getting ready anyway. What else was there to do? Luckily, the air wasn’t icy like the past two mornings, so I went outside and enjoyed the lights far below me. After that, it was a pleasure to read my Kindle in the dark as I ate a bowl of hot oatmeal. There was no rush after all, and I had no intention of leaving until there was at least some light in the sky. This plan worked out well, although I was still using my headlamp as I left camp.
As I hiked, the surrounding mountains became lit by the pre-dawn alpenglow. This is a special time of day for photographers, and I made the most of it. San Gorgonio Mountain, southern California’s highest peak, was across the valley. Mighty San Jacinto Peak was to the south. Interstate 10 and the main east-west railroad tracks from LA were a vertical mile below me. As was the infamous San Andreas Fault. What do you think made those two mountains so high, and the valley between them so deep? Lots and lots of tectonic action, that’s what. If it started quaking while I was up here the only thing I’d have to watch out for would be rolling boulders. Or a landslide. As I hiked onward, the light grew brighter and the sunrise more spectacular. What a great day to be on the trail!
The morning light really gave definition to the eroded hills across the way. There were hundreds of windmills out there, and none of them were spinning. This is exactly what I dreamed of. The last time I came through here, back in 2021, the wind was howling. I had a terrible time setting up camp down there in the wind blast, a miserable time trying to sleep in a wildly flapping tent, and an even harder time taking down my tent without it blowing away down the valley. No, I would take these conditions any day. It was predicted to be in the seventies, so I wouldn’t roast too badly. I would also have plenty of water once I reached Snow Creek. A perfect day, in other words.
At first I hiked in the shadow of San Jacinto Peak, but eventually the sun rose high enough to reach me. That was when I stopped to remove my goretex outer layer and prepare for the warmth to begin. There were no more pine trees by this point. Everything was desert-style, with bushes widely spaced and a cactus or two here and there. When the trail rounded a corner as it switchbacked its way downhill, I kept getting glimpses of Snow Creek below me. And it kept getting closer, but oh so slowly. This trail’s slope was very shallow. It seemed to wander everywhere without descending very far.
I passed one flowing creek on the way, which really amazed me, this being December, but 2023 was a weird year for rainfall in California. Then I passed the official 200 mile marker, which was now incorrect due to trail rerouting. But that was OK. There were probably lots of Instagram posts of this post. As I got lower, the trail made one final mega-switchback, all the way around to the north side, then back around toward Snow Creek, descending so slowly all the while. It was probably great for southbound hikers heading uphill, but for me it was rather boring, an exercise in mileage for mileage’s sake.
As the long switchback returned, I saw the tiny town of Snow Creek below me. It sounded like a quaint, yet hot and windy, place to live. By this time it was getting warmer, and it was almost noon. I stopped in the shade of a huge boulder and sat down to eat my lunch. As I read my Kindle, I heard a sound. It was a human! I hadn’t seen anyone in three days! Another hiker was heading uphill in the opposite direction. I asked him if he was a SOBO thru hiker, but no. His pack wasn’t big enough. He was just a section hiker, getting in a few miles of trail on his day off. We spoke for a while, and then he continued onward. He said that he started across the freeway, and parked on a local street. That was also my destination, but it was still over five miles away.
I continued onward. Snow Creek and its PCT-famous water fountain were just ahead. This land was owned by the Palm Springs Water Department, and the PCT had a right-of-way through their land. Luckily for us, they were nice enough to provide a water faucet for thirsty hikers. Last time I was here, the water fountain pointed straight up (like a normal water fountain) but it was impossible to fill up anything from it. Plus, the pressure was so high that the stream of water shot ten feet into the air! Someone fixed it, and now it was sideways, a great compromise between drinking from it and filling from it. So I filled up everything. This was my planned spot. Supposedly, there were water jugs left by trail angels under the bridge at the freeway, but there was some uncertainty as to availability and quantity. This was not prime hiking season, and the trail angels might not bother maintaining the cache. The water faucet was guaranteed.
So I hiked onward with a full backpack. The first part was down the private paved road to the water department. Then I arrived in the town of Snow Creek, and took a photo of the whimsical mileage marker. I hiked on, and eventually crossed the road onto the sandy desert floor.
I walked and walked and the scenery was dominated by man-high creosote bushes. Pretty dull after all those great views I had all morning. But there was only one way to the freeway, and this was it. Eventually, the boring zone became the dry sandy wash of the San Gorgonio River. There was probably water flowing down below me somewhere, but I couldn’t find it. Some of the sand was deep, so I had to find firm spots to hike on to avoid the inevitable slogging. There weren’t many posts along this section, but at least there were a few footprints. I got out my Far Out app to be sure I was on the right track.
As I neared the freeway undercrossing, a freight train full of containers came by, heading uphill to the west. Five engines made quite the sound of thrumming power, and then the cars kept going past, one after the other, seemingly forever. These were very long trains! I love trains, so of course I took too many photos and videos, but I’ll spare you this time.
I went under the bridges and stopped at the I-10 Hiker Oasis. There was a sign-in board but I didn’t sign it. I also noticed that there were no jugs of water in sight. Supposedly there was a “secret stash” between the bridges, but I didn’t check as I had enough anyway. Still I was glad that I carried my own. My plan was to sleep here under the bridge, but it was insanely loud with all the traffic. My only real option for peace and quiet was to hike two miles further up a long slope toward the windfarm and camp there. Ugh. I thought I was done, and so did my legs.
I sat down in the shade and got out my phone. I checked the Far Out app, and also checked the Mission Creek Preserve’s website. I remembered hearing that Mission Creek had gotten seriously destroyed upstream along the PCT back in the late Summer after Hurricane Hilary dumped its excess rain. The website didn’t mention the PCT, but it did say that the trail I intended to take back toward the car from the Whitewater River was currently closed. This didn’t bode well for me. Did I want to risk it? It might be an ugly bushwhack now. Did I really have a choice? My car was parked outside the preserve’s gates, after all.
And that was when the hiker I’d met earlier arrived. His car was parked nearby on the local road. I decided to bite the bullet. I asked him if he could give me a ride to my car. He said yes! He was heading that way anyway. And then I got him to take the final photo of me on the PCT for 2023.
We walked up the trail together. I put my pack in his car and away we went. Less than twenty minutes later and I was at my own car! This was excellent. I waved goodbye and unlocked it. I put my pack in the back and got out some sodas and snacks for the drive home.
Yes, I cut my hike a few miles short, but I was happy to do it. As far as I was concerned, I was finally finished with the Desert Section of the PCT! I texted Vicki that I was heading back a day early. She was quite happy about that. Meanwhile, it was Sunday afternoon, and I lucked out that traffic through LA wasn’t too bad. It took me less than three hours and I was home.
Home Sweet Home. The land of hot showers and comfy beds, and the land where I could sleep with my wife rather than alone in a freezing cold tent. I got there right as the sun was setting.
So the hero headed off into the sunset, like all proper western stories.
I got home and took my shower and relaxed. For one night anyway. The next day it was time to put away all of my hiking gear, to re-fold my tent, to air out my goose down items, and do the laundry. The boring parts of any thru hike. But also necessary.
Here’s a photo of my poor abused backpack. Its got some damage but I still I love this thing. And I think I’ll reuse it next year if (when!) I continue hiking on the PCT. Hopefully, if the snow is good this Winter, it will be a NOBO hike, for 500 miles through the High Sierra.
Yes, that’s exactly what I need. More plans for next year, and more dreams for the future.
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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