Mojave to Walker Pass

PCT MILES COMPLETE: 373.6

PCT mile 558.5 to PCT mile 651.3
Section mileage: 93.6
Days: 6/5 - 6/10

Mojave!

Before leaving Mojave, we loitered at Dennys for several hours (because loitering is what we do), drinking milkshakes and calling home, waiting for the sun to lower just a little bit. We finally hitched out of town with a man who had lived in Mojave for 40 years. I asked if the city had changed at all, with the development of all of the wind farms. He said, "I don't know what to say to that," and that was that. I never really understood why people made such a big deal out of wind turbines going up in their backyards until now. They are just such a landscape feature. I mean, it's not mountaintop mining, but I understand why people care.

We walked into the evening through more wind farms and past the highway. Craig and I walked by ourselves and I made up songs. At one point, Craig walked within inches of a foot long Mojave green rattlesnake without noticing. The locals call them one-two snakes, cause "that's how many steps you get when you're bit." We slept by the highway next to the silhouette of a Joshua tree.

Mojave green rattlesnake

The next morning, we began the climb up from the road, coming across Shiny and Half double, a sweet couple. The wind was blowing furiously at this point on the ridge, and they had hunkered down in a little grove of "trees" the night before. On the ridge, we ran into a full grown Mojave green, that was coiled up and rattling at us. I've seen rattlesnakes before, but apparently had never heard them rattle. Cause they are seriously loud. Not at all subtle, and pretty much impossible to mistake with cicadas or any other creatures that make SHHHHHH sounds.

Show down with the trail cattle

We found a little grove of trees at the top of the ridge to hide in for the day. We read Cadillac Desert, which is a classic book about water issues in the arid west. It's a fitting companion to this hike, especially in an extreme drought year. It's impossible to overstate how important water is to us in the desert. There are 30 mile sections of trail with no natural water sources, and this year ordinarily running springs are bone dry. That means that we have to carry 5 liters of water at times (that's 10 lbs) and most of us night hike to avoid the heat. You can get by drinking less water at night. All of our friends from the previous section passed by while we waited in the shade, stopping to talk and update us on their adventures in Tehatchapi. We left at 6 or 7, nighthiking into a real grove of big Jeffrey pine trees. We slept on a bed of needles when I felt like I was sleepwalking; I've never been good at staying up late and the trail is no exception.

Maybe we're out of the serious desert, we thought foolishly, in the morning. We stayed under the pines for our short morning hike, and got water at a spring gushing with water. The day before, our friends had told us that a trail angel that they met had told them she'd be back with magical fruit and bagels at a road crossing. We shamelessly planted ourselves in the sap soaked ground under pine trees at the first road crossing. We had to wait out the heat somewhere, after all! Dirt bikes roared past every few hours. The hours waned, and we moved with our migrating patch of shade. No magic, just another day of trying (and failing) to sleep. I was anxious to get moving and Craig wanted to wait until it cooled off. This happens everyday; I guess this is compromise! We hiked into the night again, finishing our first 20 mile day in a patch of dust.

No trees

The next morning, we woke up to some belated trail magic; a refilled water cache with 2 Coors lite cans for breakfast! Craig hiked like a monster on the breakfast beer! It's a good thing that the morning started so great, because the rest of the day was pretty awful. We'd descended into the desert again. Even the shade of Joshua trees was gone. And it was HOT. I was just as relieved as Craig to hide from the suffocating heat. The problem was finding a place to hide. We pushed through to Pinyon Mountain, where there were (not surprisingly) pinyon pines, which are these hardy, shrubby trees that suck for shade. We had to move three times, first hiding behind a rock then some little trees. We were on a steep trail on the side of a mountain, so we only had a path 2 feet wide to lay on. For 8 hours. It was too hot to read, too narrow to sleep. It was awful.

We left at night to hike again. The trail wound up and down hills, and we hiked fast, dodging the scorpions and Jerusalem crickets and spiders that are common on the trail at night. These critters are fierce; these half inch scorpions flip their stinger up when you pass instead of scurrying away. We're in "stand your ground" territory.

Jerusalem cricket

I thought I saw a headlamp at one point in the distance, but couldn't be sure. I get so tired at night when we're hiking that sometimes it feels like I'm swimming through the world instead of walking. But this time, I was right, and we caught up to Steve at an ATV road where he was setting up his tent. He had wild hair and wide awake eyes. We stopped to talk for a little while. He's a college professor from Pennsylvania with a mild hiking addiction. He started around the same time as us from the border. "I don't hike fast," he explained, "but I can't stay still," so he doesn't take zero days (when you hike no miles). Ever.

Scorpion

We hiked a few miles farther to the water cache, where we made pasta with a BRICK of asiago cheese and fell asleep quickly.

The next day was pretty much the same. Early climb in the early morning heat. Day in the shade. Reading. Night hiking fast, until I felt like I falling asleep standing up at 4 mph (that's fast, especially for me and my little short legs). We hiked down to Walker Pass campground to get water. We were out and exhausted. Sitting at a picnic table was a collection of jugs of water (yippee!) AND GATORADE! Yogi, who is this trail-famous person who wrote THE PCT guidebook, had left the Gatorade for us hikers. We slept in the horse corral at the campground, which was the only place soft enough for my tent stakes.