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Stopped at: Little Horsethief Canyon, mile 338.2 Miles today: 22.5
At 7:00 am or so, George yelled out my name from the road leading up to the top of the dam. I didn't think he was going the right direction because I was sleeping right next to the trail, or so I thought. It seemed he was heading out to the highway leading to Hisperia. With the daylight, I noticed the little outhouse-like structure where I should have turned to head into the parking lot yesterday.
By 7:45 am, I was packed and moving off the sand. I use 2 pairs of contacts, and had stored them in plain water when I ran out of solution: one of the contact pairs was torn around the edges and had to be tossed, while the other pair was still good. Each pair was good for a month, and I had 4 unused pairs.
Indeed I had gone in the wrong direction last night after finding the trailhead at Highway 173. Instead of bushwhacking my way over the down trees I crossed yesterday, I walked along the creek bed and went around the mess. I noticed George's footprints, so he was now on the right path- maybe he had been on the correct path all morning, and I should have went the same path where I saw him earlier.
About 100 yards after crossing the highway, there was a water cache and a box containing band-aides and aspirins. I was surprised to see the cache behind a tree and some bushes because of all the available water at the resevoir where I camped last night. I didn't take anything, but left a "thank you" in the register for the generosity of the trail angel who left it. (Last night I had mentioned to Jeff and Allison about trail angels leaving water caches not realizing one was nearby.)
As the trail began to climb, I felt slow as a slug. Absolutely no energy. Mornings like these were awful. Maybe it was all the unnecessary walking yesterday, or just eating 2 slices of pizza for dinner, or just too much hiking lately. Whatever it was or combination of, I was walking like a sloth climbing a tree.
I passed up the first 2 water sources and thought about getting some water and juices at the grocery store just .3 miles off the trail ahead. Somehow, I overlooked the detour which led to the grocery store, and as Murphy's Law would apply, I ran out of water before the trail crossed Highway 173 again. The next water source was over 5.5 miles away.
I had this feeling like a sense from experience, there would be a water cache across the highway, and I was sort of correct. There was an empty 1-gallon bottle with water drops indicating it was emptied recently.
The trail led to a plant associated with the California aquaduct. I asked a man who sported a goateeless beard enjoying an afternoon cigarette break if he knew where the trail continued because it looked unmarked. He answered, "The trail continues down highway 173 behind the Siphon Power Plant." Then he asked the magical question, "Do you need water?" Heck yeah, I needed water!
I got 2.4 litres of and was too timid to get another litre even after he asked a couple of times for me to get more of the cold Ozarka delivered water. Anyways, I figured it was enough to have lunch and travel another 5.5 miles.
The helpful man also noted the local grocery store had been shut down for a while.
One minute, I was agonizing over 2 hours hiking waterless with plenty of unaccomodating thirst, but minutes later, I was sitting under tree shades reminding me of a long-ago childhood eating the heartiest lunch on this trail to date. Fortunes came and went like this on the trail, and I enjoyed it tremendously when it came.
The rest of the afternoon was spent travelling around Silver Lake. Silver Lake was huge. Water was never an issue once the trail went parallel to the lake, but I had enough water from the man at the plant. The whole afternoon was spent navigating a good portion of the lake. There should be some boats hikers could rent to take them across the recreational lake.
Trail markers consisted of red ribbons tied to trees instead of wooden poles or occasional rocks piled in sets of threes. I took a wrong turn for about 100 yards and discovered a den people have used to camp in. Unfortunately, they also leave their garbage as though they think this neat rock-formed hideout was a band-aide only to be used once.
I almost flatten a horny toad with one step as it ran before me, but I was able to lessen the impact at the last instant. Once it ran into the bushes, it paused and I could see blood around its head. Even though I approached closely to examine the wounded creature, it wouldn't move- probably too traumatized to move. Nature was not very forgiving to injured animals, but I still hoped for the best.
At the Silver Lake Recreation area, the bike path led over to the Cleghorn picnia area, which has flushable restrooms and water from sinks and a foot faucet. I ended up spending 2 hours at the picnic area waiting for clothes laundered at the foot faucet to dry. During the 2 hours, no one was at the picnic area except for a couple taking a stroll.
Trying to figure the path out of the park was a little tricky. I based the direction on the databook mentioning a "offramp," which could only mean head towards the highway. The trail follows the bikepath to the underpass and then to the forest. My goal for tonight was making it to the next water source 4 miles away.
A mounted sign explained the rare local frogs and how important the water was to the animals in the natural refuge. Luckily, I brought enough water from the picnic area for tonight and tomorrow.
I did find a golden leaf pin, but wasn't sure if was real gold.
With just a hint of visibility, I found the water source, but there wasn't a flat comfy area available to camp. I moved on quickly, spending the next hour trying to find a flat area with the headlamp. There were a couple of decent spots, but it would mean destroying a fair amount of tiny desert plants.
Eventually, I made it down to Little Horsethief Canyon dry creek bed and discovered a small dirt area which looked like it had been prepped for a tent. I couldn't pass up this opporunity because I was ready for camp 2.5 miles ago. I still had to clear some small sharp rocks to prevent the tent floor from being punctured.
After complete setup, the headlamp reflected something ahead on the trail. "Shit, what is that? Where those alien abduction stories true?" Fantasizing about being abducted was one thing, but actually being out here alone was another, and I got spooked for the first time on the trail since Aqua Caliente. "Marlon?! George?!" I called without an answer.
"Screw it!" I dared. I was just going to walk up there and see what was causing the bright reflection. I would have a difficult time sleeping not knowing what might be lurking out there. The reflection came from George's white Kelty Clark bivy tent instead of a parked e.t. saucer. His backpack was nearby because the tent was too small to fit it inside. Damn, he even found a flat spot on top of grass!
No ghosts, aliens, or killers out there tonight. It was comforting to know another hiker was sleeping nearby even if he didn't know I was just down the trail. I was sure he would see my tent tomorrow.
