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Stopped at: Combs Peak, mile 130.2 Miles today: 14.4
The first full day after the break was back to the familiar pains of hiking in the desert- thirst, sun, and finding good shades. The ultralight umbrella made a tremendous difference- allowing me to wear a short sleeve shirt while keeping the sunlight off my torso. I only applied sunblock to my exposed legs.
The day started lethargically at 10:00 am, and the air was already baking like an oven. Because of the heat and the need to filter water for the long hike ahead, it took a while to get going. Lately, it seemed breaking camp has been getting more time consuming, and some mornings, I felt better just lying inside the sleeping bag.
There was no sign of the man from the camping site 2.5 miles back on the trail at the last camp site. Last night was difficult to sleep because of the terror in my mind. It seemed as though someone might be approaching in the night when the grass swayed and made whispered noises or when the toads stopped croaking. I turned something nonexistent into a horrible head game.
After 7 miles, I ran out of water. Had I learned nothing about running out of water on previous occasions? I left this morning with enough water except I had stopped to eat on the trail, which left less water for the actual walking. The next 2.5 hours were spent moving sluggishly and appealing for water at Chihuahua Valley Road, the next water source according to the databook.
I was moving too slow up the inclines and the next water source seemed an endless distance away. I hid from the sun for a moment, and then heard the sound of a very large moving vehicle in the distance, "Ah, Chihuahua Valley Road must be just up ahead." I sprung up instantly and started flying, driven by thirst and the anticipation of the water reward.
At Chihuahua Valley Road, there were 2 notes on the PCT maker pole: A hiker note from 4/10/2003 read, "Tank dry," and the other note stated, "Water ahead 50 feet." I had doubted the second note because the databook did not indicate any other water source other than the tank a little off the trail.
Suddenly, a rush of despair overcame me. I had made it to where water was marked to be, but nothing. There was no water for 12 miles in either direction on the trail. "Maybe I could wait out the night and hopefully wave down some vehicle coming up the dirt road tomorrow," I considered desperately.
I walked ahead the 50 feet to check. Aaron, a thru-hiker from Arizona, was sitting among a sea of water jugs supplied by a trail angel. He only had one sip of water left before arriving here. There was about 10 gallons left, and I withdrew over a gallon to eat, rest, and take to the trail later in the evening.
Aaron and I sat around for an hour before he took off to Tule Canyon. He owned the footprints I had been following since yesterday, and he left a note in the log book at Warner Springs about his aching feet problems. One special thing about the trail was everyone became quick friends (or at least acquaintances)- if hikers didn't share much in common, they still had the trail to discuss and joke about. It's very simple to just sit down with a newfound hiker and start jabbering away, regardless of our viewpoints in the real world.
One unique thing about Aaron was he's a vegeterian. Both of us were craving for pizza when we reached Idyllwild, over 50 miles away. I admitted, "I'm ordering the biggest, nastiest, fattiest pizza when I get there!" Of course, Aaron would get the meatless version.
A trail angel was nice enough to supply water at a waterless point, but some hikers have little gratitude: The adjacent area was littered with wrappers, bottles, cans, and toilet paper. I hoped the mess wasn't from thru or section-hikers. I took one of the boxes holding the water bottles and gathered much of the mess, but not touching the exposed toilet paper of course. When I retrieved the box, there was a beautiful brownish orange scorpion with its half torn meal living underneath. I was lucky not to have been stung.
At 7:30 pm with one hour left of light and renewed energy, I rushed up the mountain as though there was a wind to my back. However, at 8:30 pm, I started cramping up and needed to make camp as soon as possible. At 9:30 pm, after moving a poky 1 mile since the last hour, I stopped at a bend on the trail barely large enough to position the tent off the trail.
I checked ahead for a better spot and almost stepped on a huge spider and tripped over a snake in the middle of the trail. Setting up a tent in this environment, regardless of the heat, was a good idea.
