Days 1-4, Miles 0-77, Campo to Scissors Crossing

Day 1, 20 miles, endpoint PCT mile 20

Josh and I had our first full day of hiking today. Girlscout kindly took us out to the trailhead at 6am. The southern terminus sat atop a small hill, unceremoniously surrounded by barbed wire and a rust colored wall stretching east to west as far as the eye could see. Border patrol cars dotted the landscape driving up to the trailhead. For one of the most scenic trails in the world, the trailhead was bizarre at best and ugly at worst.

Regardless, we set off down the dusty trail, closely following the Guatemala group and Boris from France. It was hot by 8am. My legs felt good and the hiking was easy, but nondescript. Rolling brown hills, flanked by dry, prickly vegetation was nearly all there was. The sky was a hazy shade of blue, the sun always there. Josh converted me to the miracle of umbrellas; instead of the sun beating down on me, I had constant, portable shade. The trail meandered through the desert, and eventually started climbing. 15 miles in, I started feeling the heat and my legs started their revolt. The last 5 miles felt like 10. Finally, we arrived at the Lake Morena Campground, a sprawling compound of RV sites, barking dogs, and kids on bikes next to a dried up lake bed. 20 miles down, a hell of a lot more to go.

PCT Monument.  Josh looks 7 feet tall and very tan.

The heavily fortified wall that separates the US and Mexico.

Almost there!

Carla with her umbrella looking across to what would be our final climb of the day.  You can see the switchbacks if you look closely towards the center of the pic.

I swear this looks like a warning sign... apparently it only applies to people that speak spanish.

Our camp for the first night.  In a loud public campground :(

Day 2, 19 miles, endpoint PCT mile 39

We left Lake Morena and headed north, getting started at about 6am. Despite the early hour, it became hot quickly. The scenery today was much improved from yesterday; we crossed sage-colored fields of prickly bushes lined with brightly blooming cactus and large boulders. From this desert scenery we then crossed into fields of long grass and tall trees. The hillsides surrounding us were beautiful and void of other people, making our hike a peaceful one.

Despite this, the hike was not all peace and harmony. While it was my legs that revolted on day one, this time, my feet were in a full-on mutiny. I developed blisters covering all aspects of both feet, seemingly in an instant. This surprised me, as I run long distances on trails wearing these same shoes all the time, and have hardly ever had blisters. I guess it was just my good fortune, and I was soon hobbling around like an invalid. We used the heat as an excuse to take two rest breaks next to the trail where we laid down, relaxed, and took a nap in the midst of our 19 miles.

Finally, when I couldn’t go any further, we began to look for a place to camp. According to our guidebook, there was a spring off the PCT that would give us water, so we went in search of this spring. We went down a side trail that looked like an old Jeep road with large tire ruts and bushels of grass growing in the middle of the ruts. This led to a quiet meadow, but no spring. Eventually, we found the “spring,” which was actually a murky-looking horse trough with 6-inch long goldfish swimming inside. Beggars can’t be choosers, so we filled up, filtered the water, and crossed our fingers we wouldn’t get sick. The meadow had a nice area for our tent under a tree, and we camped without anyone else within sight. Tomorrow will be our first resupply day, as we will head into the small town of Mt. Laguna.

There would be some shade this day.

This is after a very hot and long climb... we are probably going to take it easy during the hottest parts of the day.

DANGER!

Views on our way up to where we would eventually camp.

Camping in beautiful solitude... perfect.

Day 3, 17 miles, endpoint PCT mile 56

The hike into Mt. Laguna was a change of pace from the desert--it actually felt mountainous, with pine trees, crumbly volcanic rock, and cooler temperatures. For the first time since leaving Campo, I wasn’t hot all day. Josh and I were in the Mt. Laguna area two years ago, when Josh ran the San Diego 100 Miler. We were excited to go back to what was familiar, and very beautiful territory.

Our first stop was the outdoor store in Mt. Laguna. Turns out that horse trough water had some nasty gunk in it (shocking, I know) that clogged our water filter. We needed a back-flow plunger to de-clog it, but left that at home. We hoped the store would carry it, and it was an easy stop along the way. As we came up to the store, Josh scanned the hiker box out front. Hiker boxes are places where hikers dump unneeded or unwanted items (food, clothing, gear), and any other hiker is welcome to anything in the box. This was the moment when we first experienced the notorious “trail magic” that the PCT is known for. At the very top of the hiker box was the very same back-flow plunger we needed. Just like that--magic. We had a few other things to pick up, though, so we entered the store and met “Super Dave,” the store owner and a hiker-friendly guy.

Then it was up the road to the Mt. Laguna grocery store. There were hikers milling about on the front porch, organizing their packs and hanging out. We did our shopping pretty quickly, including ice cream bars that Josh and I both devoured on the porch. A kid walking by looking on in amazement, saying to Josh, “That looks good!” Josh smiled at him and said, “Doesn’t your mom let you eat ice cream for breakfast?”

From there, we left with my heavy food-filled pack and hit the trail again. From the forested mountainside we entered a newly-minted burn zone from a fire only one year ago. This burn zone was strangely beautiful, as colorful orange, purple, and blue flowers grew in between blackened, charred tree corpses. The burn also opened up expansive views that would otherwise been hidden by tree cover.  Finally, we made it to the boulder field we had been looking for, an amazing hillside speckled with large boulders, some the size of small houses. We had views of mountains in three directions, at the cost of being exposed to a voracious wind. We tied down the tent as tightly as possible and will try to sleep while the winds are howling outside.

Carla and Super Dave (not to be mistaken with Bend's Super Dave).  This tiny outdoors store is packed with good gear... pretty ridiculous what he fits in there.

Carla hanging on to her hat for dear life high in the Laguna Mountains.

The insides of a burnt out tree.

Climbing in the Laguna Mountaiuns.

Boulder fields in the Laguna Mountans.  We camped in this area.

Day 4, 21 miles, endpoint PCT mile 77

Today again started out windy and eventually became hot. No longer were we in the mountains; we were back squarely in the frying pan of the desert. I made the mistake once of taking a break and sitting down directly on the trail where unbeknownst to me, some type of prickly plant was lying in wait. I bounced directly back up, nearly crying in pain, and had to have Josh help me remove all of the prickles from my butt. Therein were my first lessons of the desert: everything is sharp, and don’t sit down anywhere!

It was a dusty, sweaty haul to our first water stop 14 miles in at Rodriguez Spur trailhead. We took an hour break next to the water spigot there (I think these are used for fighting forest fires?), shook our shoes out, and tried to cool down. From there it was a lot of climbing up and around ridges dotted with cactus and sage. Just when I was sure we had reached the top of the peak we were on, we would turn a corner, and a new face would present itself, with the trail winding up it like a ribbon. Josh was so hot and uncomfortable in his shorts that he took them off and hiked in his boxers. I am not making that up. Finally we began a long, slow descent, and eventually walked along a sandy, desert flat. This flat stretched indefinitely to the horizon, with the sun blazing at our backs.

Eventually we made it to Scissors Crossing, an intersection of several highways out in the middle of nowhere, and our endpoint for the day. Scissors is a special place, as there is a water cache that is entirely stocked by a Trail Angel  who refills the water every day with water from his personal well. (By the way, a Trail Angel is someone who volunteers time, energy, or money to help hikers and/or the trail in general) This is also an extremely important water cache; without it, there would possibly be a 32-mile stretch of the PCT that would be waterless, an extreme danger in this arid area. Several other hikers were there already, including a few who were about to hop onto a shuttle heading towards the town of Julian 12 miles away. Impulsively, we decided to go along, as we were tempted by the thought of dinner in an actual restaurant.

Our shuttle took us up a winding hillside, and soon we were gaining elevation and back in the trees. Julian is a small, touristy town with an Old-Western theme. We arrived at 6pm, and learned another lesson: things close early in small towns. We walked (well, I hobbled, as my feet were still disagreeing with me) down Main Street, and were horrified to see that all of the restaurants had closed at 6. Finally, towards the end of the street, we found one restaurant still open (it closed at 7). 

After downing our burgers and fries, Josh and I headed out to the street to try to hitchhike down the hill back to Scissors. We held up our “Hiker to Trail” sign at the edge of town and waited about 10 seconds before a car with a Seahawks sticker on it came to a stop in front of us. Out hopped a bearded, jovial guy in a Seahawks hat and a Seahawks shirt. He had us climb in, saying he hitched all over New Zealand, and wanted to pay it forward. The bearded guy, Max, and his girlfriend, Lauren, were huge Seahawks fans and recent Seattle transplants now living in San Diego. Somehow, it was just meant to be. During the ride back to Scissors we talked Seattle, Seahawks, the Superbowl, and what hiking the PCT was all about. At our trailhead, Max refused any cash for gas. The kindness of strangers is something that you don’t always see on a day-to-day basis, but it is alive and well out there in the world. Thanks, Max and Lauren! That night we sleep at Scissors, feeling a little bit like homeless people under the bridge (well, I guess we technically are homeless, and we were sleeping under a bridge). Tomorrow promises a long, hot, 24-mile waterless stretch back up in the desert highlands.

Sunrise leaving camp.  The scenery wouldn't be as nice the rest of the day.

The long, hot valley floor we crossed between the Laguna Mountains and the San Felipe Hills.  Carla and her umbrella to the left.

Shots of whisky to celebrate our first hitch hike.  Don't worry mom, they were sober... we just opened that bottle and they were headed home after :)

Chillin' under a bridge like a hobo.