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Stopped at: Lake Moreno, mile 20.2 Miles today: 16.3
I woke up at 6:00 am, and my whole body felt so much better. My back and hips were still a little sore, but I can still make good miles. Even though the full length therm-a-rest ultralight sleeping pad is close to 2 pounds with stuff sack and repair kit, it was well worth the weight to have a good night's rest.
At 8:00 am, I started hiking in the cool weather with good sunlight. I hung the Coleman wired cup on a shrub branch- maybe someone else will make better use of it. This was the first time I could remember littering in the forest.
Kevin turned out to be first hiker I would meet on the trail. Then came Glenn in full army uniform and a 55 pound backpack and resupplying in the town of Idyllwild via mail drop, followed by Beaker, who hiked the Appalachian Trail. The significance of it was the people I meet during this time frame may be the ones I will see for the next few days and maybe to the end of the trail.
If Glenn could hike through the desert in full army uniform (including undershirt and boots), which he wore proudly, then it would be an amazing feat. The rest of us were trying to stay as cool as possible by wearing shorts and t-shirts. "I was conditioned for this in the army," Glenn said.
The half litre I started the day with ran out by 10:00 am, and I ended up hiking until 2:30 pm without water. I should have filtered water at the somewhat dirty creek right after leaving camp this morning. That mistake would be a very painful lesson on how not to hike through the desert! I suppose it was a little fear of carrying too much weight for my thin body frame because the 3.4 litres I carried yesterday clearly felt like a burden even though there was barely any food in the backpack.
At breaks every 1 or 2 hours, I took off my socks to air dry to prevent blisters. What I would have done to squeeze the moisture out of the wool socks to drink because I was dying of thirst. One additional problem a lack of water caused, other than the obvious, was the inability to eat. Without water, I had to also go hungry and felt the painful lack of energy at times as though my very essence was grinding like a poorly oiled engine. But one thing kept me going: knowing the will of the human spirit could be very strong and people have gone amazing distances without water. "I can make it. I will make it, but it will take longer," I kept telling myself.
A man in a truck on a dirt road asked how many hikers were coming up the trail today. This was a chance for me to ask for some water, but I felt I could make it to the next listed water source 8 miles ahead, Hauser Creek, but water was only seasonal there. If there was no water at Hauser Creek, I would be in a worse waterless situation. I actually hoped he was a trail angel1 with a cooler of soft drinks, but he was more likely someone who worked for the border patrol.
While resting in the shade along a dirt road before descending to Hauser Creek, a man riding a buggy offered his .5 litre bottle of water, and I gladly took it. (Kevin, who was just ahead of me, told the man I needed water. Kevin had offered water, but I refused, thinking I could get water at Hauser Creek.) This .5 litre would allow me to quench my thirst and eat some of the jerky to power down to Hauser Creek and beyond. Surprisingly, even after walking waterless over 4 hours in the desert environment, drinking a little water quenched the thirst. (The body cannot process too much water at once, which was probably why I felt okay, but I was still very dehydrated.)
Accepting water from the man was easier because he wasn't a hiker, he wasn't a peer. Accepting water from the other hikers would admit the clumsiness of my prepration.
Conor was the last hiker I met on the trail for the day while eating the jerky. He offered a litre of water since he still had 3 litres, and it was more than enough to arrive at Lake Moreno, where everyone was heading tonight. Foolishly, I refused again, hoping to get water for myself at Hauster Creek just .5 miles downhill.
Conor and I stormed down the hill and reached the creek, where Kevin was resting, in short minutes. I thought the creek would be the saving grace, but it was dry. Agonizingly empty. The pain I had gone through to reach this place was now compounded with chagrin. What now? Lake Moreno was another 4.5 miles with an immediate, intimidating 1000 feet climb. I had used up almost all the mental strength I had to reach this waterless oasis. At this point, I understood sadly, "Maybe backpacking is not for me, maybe I should have never came out here. I have no energy left to climb this last mountain. I have been broken."
The 3 of us sat in the cool shade. Conor offered a litre of water again, and again, I foolishly declined thinking I could somehow make it to Lake Moreno, most likely near sunset. Saving me some honor, he said, "I don't want to carry all this water." I accepted. Conor took off soon afterwards with 2 litres of water, more than enough to travel the next 5 miles to Lake Moreno.
Kevin came back from using the outdoor bathroom and offered his trail mix because he was carrying way too much food. When I held out my bag, he reached into his trail mix bag and offered a couple of handfuls. "I don't recall seeing him wash his hands. Oh man, I'm going to get diarrhea if I eat this." Kevin left, and I stayed for another 45 minutes drinking all the free water and eating a little of the trail mix and jerky.
The first 1.2 miles after dry Hauser Creek was absolute hell ascending a quick 900 feet with switchbacks after switchbacks. I was quickly dehydrated and hungry again, and the sun was unforgiving. Almost every uphill step was a struggle, and every shaded spot was like a long lost friend asking to stop and relax. There were many moments, I would just stop dead in my tracks with shade only 3 or 4 steps away, but I couldn't muster the mental or physical energy to complete those few steps. I stood out in the heat immobile- defenseless and helpless as though I was in front of a firing squad. My body was like a reactor which only worked when enough power was stored up. I hated the feeling of just standing completely disabled, completely exhausted. Every break was a mental handicap, longing to stay another minute. I would have liked to enjoy the view, but heat, thirst, and hunger occupied my every thought.
How could I give up now? There was no other options than to continue up and forward, regardless of how difficult the climb or how fatigued my body. I had to keep moving when I could muster any strength- No one would be my salvation except myself. At the top, it would be mostly downhill or level.
I don't know how I survived the past few hours, but somehow I managed to make it to the viewpoint of Lake Moreno, where I realized I was about to overcome the great predicament I placed myself in. I was as close to dead as I've ever been. Looking up to the darkening sky, I wanted to cry, but I had neither the tears nor the energy to spare. At the top, I just put my body into neutral and coasted downhill using the knees for brakes.
At 8:00 pm, I happily reached the Lake Moreno campsite- it was a haven for a dying person; however, I had to walk another .25 miles trying to find campsite 64, reserved for PCT hikers. Camping was a very affordable $2.00 for PCT hikers with drinkable water, hot showers, and flushable toilets. The ranger station was closed so I will have to pay in the morning, or they'll come around asking for the fee. Glenn greeted, "I'm really glad you made it!"
Beaker, Glenn, Kevin, and Conor were here tonight along with another hiker who had been at the campsite for 2 days, Virgil. Virgil had a stomach virus he suspectedly caught from the creek water not far from the border- the same creek water everyone else got their water from, the same creek water Conor gave me a litre, the same creek water I passed which made for a difficult day. Luckily, none of us felt unwanted symptoms. Maybe Virgil contracted it elsewhere or his filter may not have functioned correctly.
I kept the story of my troubles today to myself, the other guys probably had their own issues. On the exterior, I was normal and relaxed, but on the interior, I was a man who walked into the heart of torment and somehow found the strength to continue. The human spirit and endurance can be powerful if we give them a chance to shine. If the mountains after Hauser Creek was the worse the trail had to offer in the desert stretch, then I was in good shape because I overcame them while only half a man.
The store was closed at the late hour so I ate the rest of the jerky and trail mix for dinner. Since I didn't get any stomach aches from the trail mix at Hauser Creek, then either Kevin washed his hands after using the restroom while I wasn't paying attention, or he has a pretty clean butt.
