The San Jacinto Wilderness – Type Two Fun

People with extreme hobbies usually refer to two types of fun. Type one fun is the fun that comes from activities that are fun in the moment, things like an easy walk on a nice day, sitting in a shady spot with a beautiful view, relaxing at camp with good people, digging into a cheeseburger as your first non dehydrated meal in a week. Those are all type one fun. Type two fun comes from activities that are decidedly NOT fun in the moment, but really fun to talk about later. Things like mile 22 of a marathon, a particularly difficult climb, or situations that seem scary but turn out fine can be type two fun. Almost all of my last 4 days were type two fun.

April 26th – Day 14

In my last post I’d mentioned that Mark, Smiles, and I were waiting out a storm that was set to clear up by late morning on Monday. Late morning on Monday came, and the storm did not clear. Light rain continued to fall as we got to the trailhead back in Anza, but we were committed and anxious to get back on trail after a day and a half in town, so we donned our rain gear and decided to get going. We’d heard that everyone we knew who had been on the mountain the night before had bailed in the middle of the night due to strong winds. We were glad we had at least waited out the worst of it, or so we thought. As we climbed through the damp hills the rain continued to fall, but was manageable. It was cold, but I wasn’t freezing despite not having rain gloves. By the time we stopped for lunch it almost looked like it was clearing up, and I briefly thought I might have even felt a few rays of sunlight.

I made the mistake of mentioning that I “wasn’t as miserable as I thought I’d be” on our lunch break. While we were eating, the rain picked up and the winds started blowing, when they had previously been calm. The winds made the afternoon cold, so I threw on my puffy under my rain jacket because I don’t have an active insulation layer with me, but continued hiking in shorts to keep my thermals and wind pants dry for camp. Around every corner I’d think “maybe it will start to get better soon”, but it only ever got worse throughout the day. We stopped at a spring about 0.3 miles off trail to fill up water for what would be a long water carry. I got four liters as we were planning on one night of dry camping.

Around 2:30 the rain shifted to a mix of rain and snow and intensified. The winds also picked up and it was clear the storm was getting worse, not better. By about 3:30 the snow was starting to stick, not just on the ground but also on my pack and my jacket. I could feel my rain jacket starting to wet through and my puffy was also wet. By about 4 pm I was on what seemed like a ridge, although I couldn’t be sure due to dense fog. Wind and sideways snow and ice blasted my legs, and I started to become legitimately afraid. I’d never tested my tent in winds this strong, or in any rain at all for that matter. It occurred to me that exertion and adrenaline were probably what kept me from feeling cold while I hiked, but if I stopped to camp and my tent failed and my sleeping bag and clothing got wet I might freeze. I didn’t take any pictures during this section because I didn’t want my phone to get wet. I dug out my paper map and found a potential bailout trail about a mile ahead that would take me to a parking lot near Mountain Center after a 2.3 mile hike down. I thought about messaging my parents on my satellite messenger to come get me down the trail, but worried there might be too much snow for them to make the drive. Still, I had a way out if I needed it.

Smiles caught up to me and I told him about the potential bail out trail. Smiles seemed a little shell shocked by the weather as well and agreed that it was a good possibility, and we pushed on to try and find Mark to see if he also wanted to bail. We hoped we’d find him at the first potential campsite we’d discussed that morning. When we got there the site was covered in an inch of snow and there was no sign of Mark. I started to worry, but just as I continued up the mountain Mark called out from a small spot hidden under some dense, short trees. I couldn’t see much of what was around the site, but the trees were at the exact right spot to block the sideways snow and the wind, so the ground was wet, but not snow covered, and the winds were considerably lower than in the surrounding area.

I told Mark about my idea to bail, but he was actually shockingly calm. He asked that we try and set up our tents and see how it went, and we could bail of we got wet in the night. If he weren’t as calm as he was, I’m sure Smiles and I would have carried on to the bailout trail.

Setting up my tent took longer than it normally would thanks to the soft ground, high winds, and my now freezing hands. The site might have been big enough to fit all three tents, but Smiles and Mark decided to bunk up in Mark’s tent rather than try and squeeze it. Because Smiles didn’t need to pitch his tent, he let me borrow a few stakes, and I used the piece of the bear line I’d cut early to make some makeshift guylines to secure my tent more. It actually worked well, and I was able to get the walls of the tent pitched low enough and tight enough that even in the wind the snow and rain could not blow in through the bug netting.

The back storm flaps of my tent were open until I was able to get everything on the outside tightened, so some water still got in my tent. That, plus the fact that I was wet and everything I was wearing was wet meant that my tent was still a little damp inside, but at least it was better than it could have been. I jumped in as soon as I could, got out of my wet clothes and into my thermals, and got under my sleeping bag and shivered. It was only 5 pm, so we still had almost 3 hours of solid daylight to kill while laying in our tents. We talked back and forth between tents while I slowly warmed up. I cooked dinner in my vestibule and I was never more grateful for hot food. The winds blew at night, but my tent stayed standing. We went about 11 trail miles that day.

April 27th – Day 15

I woke up to the sun streaming into my tent. It was a fairly sleepless night as the cold kept me up, but I was glad things were warming up in the morning. My puffy had dried out, but my shorts, socks, and much of my other things had not. In addition my sleeping bag was damp from the moisture in the air turning into condensation, and when down insulation gets wet it stops insulating completely. I got ready and tried to lay my things out in the sun to dry before setting off. In the clear morning, we finally could see just how exposed the ridge was. The site was the only protected spot until the bailout trail, and definitely saved us that night.

By about 9 am I was packing my bag and the fog started rolling in again. A lot of my stuff wasn’t dry, but I had to get moving. I’d need to go almost 16 miles to the next water source, and more snow was expected that day. As I continued climbing the mountain the frost that covered the mountain turned to fresh snow. It was a winter wonderland and I’m sure I would have appreciated more if I didn’t have to hike in it.

I was carrying lots of water, plus wet gear, plus crampons, so my pack was heavier than it had ever been. The snow, altitude, and high amount of vertical gain slowed me down, and I made frustratingly little progress as I climbed towards the peak. I wanted to get in as many miles as I could before the weather got worse, but with fewer than seven miles done by noon that dream was not a reality. I was feeling pretty down. At a junction I met Trail Angel Mark and Heart. It was good to see Heart and know we weren’t the only thru hikers crazy enough to be on the mountain that day. Trail Angel Mark had brought homemade chocolate chip cookies and kind sized Snickers bars. I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for candy and I stopped to snack. Trail Angel Mark said that he spends most of his time bringing trail magic to hikers and dredging springs and clearing brush in these mountains and the Sierras, after his son Space Man was tragically killed in 2016. Mark said that he never took the time off work to hike with his son before he died, so he’s getting lots of hiking in now. It was a reminder that life is short, and I was once again grateful to be there, despite the weather.

Trail Angel Mark warned of numerous blow downs that would slow us down on the way up. He recommended we camp at a site about 7 miles ahead, which was before the next water source. As we were speaking, snow started to fall again. Smiles reached the junction as I was ready to leave. He was also slowing down and nervous about the snow, so I told him about the site ahead and that we might consider it if we had enough water. I still had plenty, and we could always melt snow.

I passed a memorial for Trevor “Microsoft” Laher, who slipped on a patch of ice last year in this section and was killed. I put on my spikes for that section. Next I approached the rock slide, a portion of trail on a cliff that was covered by massive boulders. Someone had tied a rope from one end to the other that helped me get across, but it was still a scary section.

I met up with Mark just before the newly proposed campsite. He and Heart wanted to go further, both for water and for more wind protection. We could see Smiles below us so we yelled our plans to him and kept moving. The next portion of the trail was covered in snow completely. There were several inches of fresh snow from the storm on top of hardened ice from earlier in the season. My microspikes picked up fresh snow, which clumped with more fresh snow, until I had two snowballs stuck to my feet. I removed my microspikes. As the time got later and it got cooler I was desperate to make camp. After over a mile of nothing but snow in sight I was worried I wouldn’t find a snow free campsite. I suggested we look down a side trail into a valley for a less snowy spot. Mark and Heart agreed, but we worried Smiles wouldn’t be able to find us. We waited for him for a while but there was no sign of him, so I walked back up the trail and found him and told him our plans. He seemed frazzled. He said that he’d gotten lost and didn’t feel comfortable in the snow at all. When I walked back to Mark at the junction to the side trail I wrote Smiles’ name in the snow with an arrow in the direction we were going, just to be sure he’d find us.

Our gamble paid off, and we managed to find a somewhat snow free spot, although the ground was a little uneven. I set up my tent and then walked back up trail again to find Smiles. I walked back all the way to where I had last seen him, but there was no sign of him. I really starting to worry as it was getting dark, but I had to get back to my tent for the night. As I was getting ready for bed, Smiles called out. We yelled for him, and he managed to find us. He had gotten lost AGAIN. It wasn’t his day, but he set up camp with us and I was glad he was safe.

The ground was wet and the dirt was soft, so my tent was less secure than it normally was. When we pitched our tents the wind was calm, but later in the evening gusts would roar through our campsite. We’d hear them ripping through the trees lower in the valley 10-15 seconds before the gusts would blast our tents. It kept me on edge all evening. Then, around 10 pm I was woken up when my tent collapsed on me. I ran outside and found large rocks to secure my stakes. As I got back into my sleeping bag I spent a long time shivering as I tried to warm up enough to fall asleep. Then again around 1 am I awoke to my tent collapsed on me. I was cold even before I got out of my tent to fix it, and debated leaving it, but ultimately sucked it up to secure my tent again. Fortunately my tent would remain standing the rest of the night, but I got very little sleep.

April 28th – Day 16

It was summit day! I had hoped to get to the top of the 10,834 ft peak by noon, and after setting off at 8 I thought I had plenty of time. Unfortunately I ended up going much more slowly than I had hoped. I was, quite frankly, out of shape, and there was over a mile of snow covered trail on the way up. I had to be laser focused on footprints and my GPS to not lose the trail in the fresh snow.

Due to the recent storms I saw very few day hikers and only a handful of backpackers. When I finally made it to the last turnoff to the summit the trail disappeared and it became a rock scramble to the top. I definitely did not plan my route well, and got to the summit at 1 pm, completely exhausted. The only other person at the summit was a man who introduced himself as “Mark, or Produce”. I told him he was the fourth Mark I’d encountered since yesterday. “We’ll stick to Produce, then”, he said. Produce and I took each other’s photos and I rehydrated a celebratory hot fudge brownie I’d been saving for the occasion.

Naturalist John Muir wrote of San Jacinto Peak, “The view from San Jacinto is the most sublime spectacle to be found anywhere on this earth!” And it was easy to agree with him as I sat on the summit and ate my brownie.

The views from the summit of San Jacinto span in every direction, from LA and the Pacific ocean to the west, Lake Elsinore to the South, the San Bernardino mountains to the north, and Palm Spring and the Salton Sea to the east. As I sat admiring the view a large group rolled up, which included Foxtail, Danny, Yaer from Israel, and Smiles! I said hi and wished them well as I started to descend, picking a better route down than I did going up.

The way down was straightforward until I got to Little Round Valley, where there was still deep snow from the early season in addition to the fresh snow. I lost the trail a few times but eventually made it to the junction to the Fuller Ridge Campground, with only five miles to go before my camp for the night. I filled up my water with five liters for the 20 mile dry stretch down to I-10, which I’d heard was brutality hot. After freezing for 3 days, I was looking forward to it.

I made quick work of the first three miles to Fuller Ridge, then I turned a corner into a shaded section on a steep slope. Almost the entire slope was covered in several feet of compact snow and ice, with no fresh snow to aid traction. Up to this point, I’d used my microspikes a few times, but hadn’t thought they were necessary. Now, looking at the ice and snow and the long way down I was so glad I’d carried that extra pound from Anza. I strapped on my microspikes and headed through. My spikes were invaluable. I passed many people without them who were slowly inching along, terrified and sliding all over the place. Even with my spikes, I was too afraid to take any pictures of this section. Eventually I got to Fuller Ridge Campground, a decommissioned campground now only used by PCT hikers that was a popular spot. There were maybe 8 tents when I arrived with more and more people coming in later in the evening.

I ate dinner with Mark and we waited for Smiles, but he never showed up. As it got later I started to worry. I knew Smiles wasn’t very comfortable on snow and ice, and he didn’t have microspikes. The sun was setting and hikers started arriving with headlamps. Produce, Foxtail, Danny, and Yaer arrived. They said the last two miles had taken them over two hours without spikes, and they were so grateful to be at camp as the light was fading fast. They hadn’t seen Smiles since before the snowy section. I finally headed into my tent to get ready for bed, very uneasy. I hoped Smiles hadn’t tried to do the snowy section in the dark and had found somewhere to camp before. As the evening wore on, I’d unzip my tent each time a new headlamp walked into camp, but none of them were Smiles.

April 29th – Day 17

I woke up in the morning to see that Smiles never made it to camp. Mark assured me that he was probably fine, and just camped higher up, but I was still worried. Mark wanted to hike all 19 miles to I-10 that day, as he was running out of food and needed to resupply in Cabazon. I was hesitant because I knew the 8,000 ft descent would be brutal and was worried about my knees, but I agreed to give it a try.

This section of trail is what many people refer to as “hot garbage”, but I actually really enjoyed it. It wasn’t as steep as I’d thought it would be, the views were phenomenal in every direction, and for the first time in days I wasn’t cold. The miles were flying by and I sent a text to Mark that I’d be able to do all 19 miles to I-10. Mark booked a motel for us to spend the night during our resupply, and I pressed on dreaming of the In-N-Out I’d devour for dinner that night. I even got a text from Smiles saying that he was okay, that he had camped higher up the mountain, made it through Fuller Ridge, and was only a few miles behind us!

I passed the 200 mile sign and found a shady rock above it to eat lunch until another hiker came by to take my picture. At this point I only had about 8 miles left and I was pumped, but the day was heating up quickly and with the lower elevation I was feeling the heat more and slowing down. I finally got the a faucet at the base of the mountain around 2:30 pm, and it was absurdly hot. I still had water left and really wanted to get to I-10, so I decided to push on despite the warnings from two hikers waiting out the heat in a tiny patch of shade that the next section would be brutal.

The trail follows an asphalt road for about 8 tenths of a mile before cutting in front of a small cluster of houses and then heading through 2.5 miles of hot, sandy desert to I-10. I baked on the asphalt as I looked at the trail in front of me and did not see any hikers. As I passed the cluster of houses a car drove by. The driver waved with a concerned look on his face, and I wondered if I was making a mistake.

Those last 2.5 miles in the sandy desert floor are what we call type three fun. Type three fun is no fun at all; not while it’s happening, and not even fun in hindsight. Type three fun is what we look back on as dangerous, stupid, or risky. As I walked through the desert floor, all of my water was outside of my pack, uninsulated, so as the temperature approached 100 degrees, so did the temperature of the water I was drinking. I got about halfway through and stopped under the meager shade of a creosote bush. My legs started to feel weak, and as I hefted my pack back on I almost thought they’d give out from under me. I briefly wondered if this is what heat stroke felt like. I took another swig of my 100 degree water.

After what felt like an endless slog through hot sun and sand, I finally staggered into the underpass, where a group of much smarter hikers than I were waiting out the heat of the day. A trail Angel had left cold soda, water, and juice under the bridge that I downed as I tried to cool myself, thankful to have finally made it.

Mark was waiting under the bridge when I arrived. He had run into Heart and invited her to join us at the motel that evening. Mark had arrived at the I-10 underpass with nothing in his food bag except a single packet of Pez, a story so iconic that it earned him the trail name “Pez” from then on. A trail angel offered to give us a ride to In-N-Out and then the motel. The strawberry milkshake I got must have been the best I’d ever tasted after the day I’d had. Smiles let us know that he’d be staying with a friend in San Bernardino, so it would just be the three of us. We rested in the AC, resupplied, and got ready to head out back to I-10 into Big Bear the next day. I had some pretty serious blisters due to my inability to keep my feet dry during the storm. I wrapped them up and hoped for the best going into Big Bear.

This four day stretch humbled me. It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I think the long stretch of good weather and easy terrain made me forget that the PCT is actually really, really hard. It reminded me that it’s not the gear I buy or how many YouTubers I watch make it to the Northern Terminus that will decide the outcome of my hike, it’s my mental and physical toughness that will decide if I make it. This section was a challenge, but I’ll experience many greater challenges as I head north, so I have no choice but to learn and grow from this.

Until next time,

Megan