Previous Day Next Day Journal Home Gear List Home
Stopped at: Snow Canyon Road, mile 208.4 Miles today: 20.1
It got quite chilly last night just north of North Fork. By 2:00 am, the mosquitoes must have went to bed due to the cold. I didn't want to leave this cool charming place nestled among boulders and stream, but when it warmed up, I was able to head out at almost 10:00 am.
Today I was trying to reach the Pink Motel, a place Bear and Ziggy informed me about while I stayed with them. I actually had no idea if it was really a motel, but Bear said they did not charge anything, but accepted donations.
At the peak of Fuller Ridge, a sadness rushed over me as I started the downhill trail. The adjacent mountain peak was scattered with late season snow pointing sharply downwards, and the view seemed reserved for me, but I was about to leave a friend behind forever; however, the same snow cap would stay with me for the rest of the day as I wind down the long switchbacks.
The 15 miles of switchbacks felt longer than 15 miles. I knew I would run out of water because I stopped a couple of times to eat. I reasoned I would hike waterless for the last 2-3 hours and it wouldn't feel as awful as previous occassions since it was completely downhill.
The scenery converted back to the familiar desert plants and white sand. Last night's enchanting camping spot on top of a boulder next to running water was now a distant memory.
Today has been a day of rattlesnake close encounters. I almost stepped on a rattlesnake sleeping on the trail balled up like a cinamarron roll. Another rattlesnake was hiding in the bushes, but had the courtesy to warn me by rattling as I approached. Lastly, a baby rattler cautioned me, but this one was a little inexperience because it kept rattling even when I was 10 feet past.
Along the trail, there was frequent black dookie covered in what appeared like sesame seeds. "Was there some animal on the trail eating Big Mac buns?" On closer inspection, the sesame seeds could have been tiny spider-like insects. What on earth in the desert could be the source of all the dookie? I ran into a fox off the trail which posed for a picture, and I assumed the fox was the source.
It was 9:00 pm by the time I reached the water source, a fountain next to Snow Canyon Road. I cursed the trail blazers for the endless switchbacks which caused my thirst, but I really caused my own grief. However, I was thankful for this fountain in the middle of nowhere. There was no way for me to move another muscle after being dehydrated so long, and the Pink Motel was another 3.8 miles away, but I wasn't even sure of it's exact location; therefore, I decided to camp next to the fountain.
A sharp bright light coming down the trail caught my attention as anything shiny in the dark desert might. I wore a headlight as I was filtering from the fountain and determined, "It must be people living nearby coming to check what's going on." I was totally shocked to see another hiker behind me- Jersey George [web page link], a veteran of the Appalachian Trail. Even more startling was he was Chinese American (originally from Hong Kong), and I assumed I would most likely be the only Asian American on the trail. Both of us set camp next to the fountain instead of pushing in the dark to the Pink Motel.
George took a drink from the fountain as though the water was expectedly clean. The sign said to treat the fountain water like any other water source found on the trail, which seemed a little ambiguous since some water sources were drinkable, such as the fountains at Burnt Ranchiera and Penny Pines, while any creek water should be doctored. When water was gathered into a man-made container, generally there would be a sign indicating the water needed treatment or boiling. My filter was clogged from earlier filtration, so I drank a little from the fountain also.
George said Aaron, Virgil, and Two Legs were at the Idyllwild State Park yesterday, and they had a good time- they were even expecting me! Darn! In retrospect, I should have spent a zero day at the state park, and start the next day early and bootlegged 25 miles (plus 3.5 miles from Idyllwild to Harmon Park) to the Pink Motel.
"George, did Aaron get pizza by any chance?"
"That's right."
Inside, part of me was laughing since Aaron and I had intended to divulge in pizza when each of us reached Idyllwild. The other part felt like I missed a good chance to rest and hang around with some hikers.
Today was the most useless switchback day ever! How could anyone design the trail like this? George feels they did it for the horses; however, I think they did it because they're sadistic nuts. I don't care how many different views of the wind turbines, freeway, and houses I needed to see when I was tired, thirsty, and hot. Days like these, I wonder if the long switchbacks were an excuse to claim the trail was 2650+ miles.
