Wow!  What a day!  Talk about varied!  We had a very chilly, howling-wind camp last night on the side of the San Jacintos.  I ached all over, but consoled myself with the fact that very few thruhikers even attempted Fuller Ridge this year, and some who did, had to be rescued because they were so overwhelmed by the difficulties.   So I guess we are in a fairly exclusive “club”.

Anyway, by 6:00 am we were on the trail for many more miles of downhill to Snow Creek. The early morning light was beautiful on Mt San Jacinto, and on the huge rocks of the “boulder garden” we were walking through.  I love looking at plants, and it was fun to watch the change in vegetation as we dropped lower and lower–but soon we were making our way through a rather overgrown trail.  (Once we reached Snow Creek, I figured it out that we’d spent about 50% of our time this morning pushing through plants!)  The vigorous plants were actually very pretty–many in bloom–but they really slowed us down.  And my quadriceps were so sore, that every time I had to take a long step down, I would say, “Yelp!” It hurt!

Part of  the way down, we were passed by Smile Train, who told us he’d had to help several ill-equipped hikers who were attempting to cross Fuller Ridge with no ice axe or trek poles or crampons or anything.  Wearing his Microspikes, Smile Train had  chopped steps for them and done whatever he could to assist.  He said that before catching up with the struggling hikers, he’d been just bopping right along.  Soon he took off down the trail–he usually does 30-plus mile days.

We then began to notice some smoke off to our left— found out later it was a brush fire that closed the PCT for a day. Had we been only a few hours later, we would have been stuck up on the Ridge for another 24 hours. Boy, are we glad we did NOT stop and camp early last night.  We appreciate God’s timing and strength!

Coming down, down, down (it is a LONG way!)  we  were also treated to some unique “insect experiences.”  A large swarm of BEES flew over us.  They were very loud and very impressive.  I had not realized how much noise a whole group of bees could make.  And ladybugs were everywhere.  I’m not sure what ladybugs find to eat around here, but they appeared to be thriving!

Finally the end was in sight–the faucet at Snow Creek, and the big rock we rested by in 2005.  This time, there was one more addition–a hopeful-looking Smile Train!   Turned out he waited for us because he was hoping we’d hitch into Cabazon with him. He said he’d had a hard time getting rides before, because people were reluctant to pick up a single scruffy-looking guy.  So we agreed, since we were a bit short on food.  After rinsing out our socks (boy, did they need it!) the three of us headed out against the wind in the pass.  It was tough going–soft sand underfoot and a fierce headwind.  At least it wasn’t 115 degrees plus this time–the temperature was only 85 degrees.   While we walked, I told Smile Train about the PCT term, “ride bride.”  He was correct in observing that single guys have a harder time getting a ride than guys with a GIRL.  So it’s not unusual for a PCT hiker to ask a fellow GIRL hiker if she would be his “ride bride.”

In return, Smile Train taught us an Appalachian Trail term:  “Idiot check”, which basically means that every time you are about to head out from a rest break, you carefully check to be SURE you didn’t leave any of your stuff behind.  So the 4 mile walk through blowing sand and wind went quickly and when we reached the shelter of the freeway/railroad underpass, we were all delighted to find a wonderful hiker cache with plenty of sodas and water, snacks and a hiker register.  It felt so good to be out of the wind!  We all ate and drank, signed and read the register, then headed for the nearest freeway onramp headed for Cabazon.

It took about 15 minutes of standing by the onramp holding out my PCT bandana with the words “Hiker to Town” prominantly displayed before a small pickup truck with two guys in it pulled over.  “Where are you you headed?”  they asked and when we told them “Just to Cabazon”, they said, “We can take you, but you’ll all have to lie down flat in the back of the truck so the Highway Patrol can’t see you.”   We all piled in, flattened ourselves like pancakes, and had a crazy 5 mile ride into town!    The guys dropped us off at the first Cabazon exit, and we thanked them VERY gratefully!

Turned out that the big attraction at this exit was a DINOSAUR park, with lifesize dinos!  Very awesome!   And there was a Burger King, so we all made straight for it and ate and ate and ate.   Next to do was find a place to get some extra trail food and some water.   The nearest ordinary store was on the other side of the freeway, so we went over and got food for our packs.  Water was still a problem, and also how to get back to the trail.  I spotted a little post office and said, “Hey, let’s check there!  Maybe there will be a hiker register and list of trail angels.” 

But the post office had just closed, five minutes before we got there!  We stood in front of it, discussing what to do next, when a man hailed us from across the street.  “Are you PCT hikers?”  Turned out he was a trail angel, who really had missed helping hikers.  Since the PCT was re-routed,  hardly any PCT’ers  go to Cabazon anymore.     He invited us over to his house to get water.  Well, actually, what he did was invite us into what he called his “man cave.”  What an interesting place!   He’s a man of many skills, but his favorite is painting, and his house had several of his paintings, which he framed himself.  The frames alone are works of art.   The house was full of various items relating to his many interests.    “I’m glad my kids are grown and out , so I have the place to myself,” he said.  “And they are a real responsible, hardworking bunch, so I’m not stuck with raising my grandkids like a lot of other guys my age.”

The “Artist Trail Angel” gave us a ride back to the PCT,  and we were off again into the desert, with the windmills singing their thumping, humming song overhead, and the wind blowing.   Smile Train took off –he is very fast–and we began the climb back into the mountains.   It was a wonderful afternoon–the flowers were in full bloom, the wind felt good, and it had only taken 2 hours for our whole “Cabazon adventure.”  The only problem I had was my terribly sore quads and arms and shoulders, and all the desert grit in my poor filthy socks.  The rinse we gave them at Snow Canyon helped a little, but they REALLY need soap and hot water! 

As we were walking along, a guy on a dune buggy came zooming along on a dirt road nearby.  “Welcome to Section C!” he hailed us.  “Y’all headed for Canada?”  “Yes, we sure are!”  we shouted back.  He wished us well and roared off.  Eventually we stopped for a brief snack and tried to shake some of the grit out of our shoes.  Not much luck–there’s still plenty left.

By sundown we were at Teutang Canyon.  It’s a very impressive, deep, dramatic gorge, but we found a nice little side gully and made a comfortable cowboy camp.  The crickets are singing, and it’s a beautiful evening.  I did take some Motrin, though, or I probably won’t get much sleep due to VERY sore muscles!   Battling the snow is a lot different from just plain ol’ hiking!

Walk to Rivendell: Flat country on way to Weather Hills

Well, we made it— all the way across the fearsome Fuller Ridge–and we are still in one piece, sort of.  I ache all over from bruises and scrapes and falls.   This morning was a rerun of the last 2 days— plenty of scary traverses and trying to figure out where to go. We got up at 5:45, determined to finish Fuller Ridge, but the snow was so icy and hard that we soon gave up, found a sunpatch and sat down to eat a bar while enjoying an awesome view of Mt. San Jacinto.  The wind was blowing hard, and it was so cold that I finally had to put on my raingear to stay warm.   After awhile we decided that the snow had softened up enough to be reasonably safe, and were on our way.

All day long, we faced one steep, snowy hillside after another.  We were trying to follow other people’s tracks, but the tracks soon just headed all over the place.  I guess everyone else who went before us were lost, too!  Even Bill fell a couple of times, and on one of those times, the alcohol fuel bottle and our “medicine bag”  (containing bandaids, Motrin, etc) fell out of the net pocket on his pack.  He was too busy picking himself up and getting underway again to notice, and I was so far behind him that I didn’t even know to look for them. 

We did figure out a couple of things, though.  Bill finally took my suggestion that on scary traverses, if he just “stomped harder” and left a bigger footprint, it would be easier and faster for me.  And boy, did that make a difference!  I did not need to keep chopping steps for myself.  The only “downside” was that Bill’s steps were so far apart that I really had to “streeeeetch” to reach them.   (Later on, at the hostel in Big Bear, I was talking to Not a Chance, and she said she had the exact same problem–her boyfriend Croatian Sensation made nice tracks for her, but the steps were so far apart that she also had trouble reaching them!)    And I figured out that on most all downhills if I just sat down and glissaded with my ice axe as a brake, I could move along quite quickly.   (As I said before, I did pay a price for this!  Bill says maybe my trail name should be Scarbutt.  I vetoed that idea!!) 

We did meet several other hikers in the morning, and in every case, they greeted us with a very anxious, “Have you seen_____?”  Seems there are a lot of  missing thruhikers! 

At noon we stopped for a hot meal that came all the way from Australia–a sweet ‘n sour freezedried lamb stew, courtesy of our daughter Mercy and her husband Ted, who were in Australia last year.  It was clear, cold and windy.  Again, I put on my raingear just to stay warm while we ate.  The hot food really helped, and we continued the slow process of trying to figure out where to go, picking our way along, when finally Bill said, “Enough! We will just head down.”

So we did— and spotted a dirt road!  Hallelujah!   After consulting our maps and figuring out where we were,  we followed the road back UP the hill (dodging plenty of snowbanks and snowdrifts which were blocking even the road) and headed back  to the PCT. Along the way, another “lost” PCT hiker popped out of the woods— boy was he glad to see us! He was a big, strong, young guy, but when we compared notes, it turned out it had taken him just as long to get across Fuller Ridge as we did.  So I felt a lot better–I had been feeling very discouraged about being slow. 

Once we found the PCT again, we all collected some water from a little creek nearby.  The young guy was so tired that he decided to stop for the day and camp.  Bill and I agreed, “We want OUT of the snow!  We are not stopping now!”  We figured that we’d still be hitting snow at least part of the way down to San Gorgonio Pass, and if we waited till morning, that snow would be icy and nasty.  Right now it was soft.  So we said goodbye to our exhausted fellow hiker and began the long walk downhill.  We still had to deal with some snowfields, but nothing bad, and between the snowy traverses we were able to hike on nice stretches of TRAIL!! 

Finally we were completely out of the snow.  What a blessed relief! I ached all over, the wind was howling and it was cold, but wow!  We made it!  And we got in almost two hours of travel on the very long but very scenic switchbacks down to San Gorgonio, before the sun went down.  I spotted a little low hollow surrounded by chaparral, and that’s where we are camped tonight, somewhat protected from the very strong, very cold wind.  What a switch from 2005, when it was horribly HOT here!  We are grateful to God for His help, and I am praying for all our fellow hikers to make it safely through the snowy challenge of Fuller Ridge.

Walk to Rivendell: Nearing edge of Midgewater Marshes