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Stopped at: before Barrel Spring, mile 96.3 Miles today: 16.3
The sun was rising over the mountain as I left camp next to the exposed toilet paper, which rocks were placed over. For once I wanted to make some miles before the sun became unbearable. As the day started to heat up, my darkened arms started to blister, which I've never had happen before. Day after day, direct exposure for hours will do that.
A PTCA volunteer had told Kevin there was a water cache 10 miles from San Felipe Creek. I was out of water for almost an hour by the time I reached the 10 mile point, but no water cache. In fact, no water for miles afterwards. About the 14th mile, a wooden sign on the trail stating "water 1 mile" pointed off the trail. A note under a rock from May 1st from 2 hikers mentioned the great cache like it was a recent gold discovery, but it was a long mile. I had no choice but to go on the side quest for the water because I was well dehydrated and the next water source was another 10 miles.
The detour had no water at the 1 mile point. I had a weary blank look in my eyes like this wasn't reality, and I couldn't really be in a haphazard waterless situation again. No, this was definitely genuine- I felt the burning sensation on my blistered and exposed body, the thirst on my chapped lips, and the bitterness in my mind. I walked a little further along a dry creek bed hoping, begging, praying to come to the mysterious great water cache.
A house layed about .5 mile ahead after a tree farm. This was the new destination because looking for the water cache was like searching for the Holy Grail, and I wasn't worthy1 to complete the quest. No one was home, but there was a posted wooden sign for water pointing to a hose. The residents must expect hikers. The 2 huge elderly dogs in the lawn were very friendly, thank goodness. I wet my head and drank as much as I could from the hose and filled up the 2 platypus bottles to the very max, a total of 3.4 litres.
While leaving the property, Kevin was heading in. Apparently, he ran out of water too and didn't find the cache. I was extremely upset at the water detour situation until I quenched my thirst and realized someone else went through the same fiasco.
After resting an hour under a tree, I made it back to the trail and added to the note, "Tyring to find the water cache is like trying to find Waldo....water available at house about 2 miles away." Hopefully, it will prevent someone from making the 3-4 mile roundtrip detour if they had enough water to push forward. I wasn't agitated at the 2 hikers who wrote the original note because their intentions were good as with many other hikers. In a way, the hikers were a brotherhood/sisterhood trying to help each other. This was one thing very special about being out here: It's very different than the selfishness of the urban jungle.
An hour up the trail, about 2.5 miles, there was a huge water cache at a cattle gate. It felt like I had been cheated- wasting time, miles, and frustration earlier. If I had known better, I would have skipped the detour and driven ahead to the water cache which was supposedly 10 miles from San Felipe Creek. But everything was good, water was always an intimate friend in the desert. I napped for 2.5 hours.
When I was ready to leave the cache, ThaWookie and Island Mama [web page link] came cruising in and saluted, "You're the first hiker we've seen." We introduced and they said they read my note and didn't bother to take the detour. When I said, "There's water a few yards ahead after the cattle gate," they were extremely elated! Immediately, they headed to the 1 gallon water bottles like metal to a magnet. They too had run out of water during the long hot stretch, also known as Scissors Crossing, since San Felipe Creek.
We discussed the knee and shin problems, and it was good to know they had the same problems during their Appalachian Trail thru-hike. A couple of days of rest would help. Hearing their assurance gave me hope I could continue the trail, at least through California. I thought about taking a couple of zero days in the town of Warner Springs, a day away.
After we chatted for 10 minutes, they stayed while I continued; however, I immediately made a wrong turn to the right instead of the left at a fork. I wasn't paying attention to the trail marker and saw some empty bottles on the right and continued on that trail.
The wrong trail incidentally lead towards the house where I got water ealier. The water cache mystery suddently became clearer: The people at the house must have had a water cache 1 mile from the posted sign on the trail, but moved the water cache to the cattle gate recently. That sounded reasonable. I had to backtrack a mile to where I left ThaWookie and Island Mama.
By 8:00 pm, I made camp under the stars somewhere in the mountains with 1.5 litres of water left. Today at times, the area around the right ankle agitated, almost like a pulled muscle.
My favorite phrase lately was, "There's water ahead." Without water, the scenery was not as crisp and elegant. Out here in the desert, thirst consumed me, taking me down to the basic instinct of survival. When there's water, it's much easier to take a moment to enjoy the setting or sneak a peek at what made noises in the bushes.