A Long Beautiful Day on the Crest (PCT Day 5)

Today was a beautiful day. That could be said for many days, I know, but the views of today were rivaled by few.

We started out with a late start in Mt. Laguna. We camped just outside of town and had to run back to the store to pick up some extra fuel, tortillas and dehydrated milk. But the store didn’t open until 9 am. So we waited around in the cold, ate breakfast, and sorted our food from the previous days resupply. 

Once our bags were organized we walked to the visitor center bathrooms, to charge our phones while we waited the twenty more minutes until the store opened. I made Rachel muesli in the sun, then we went to the store. From there, finally, back onto the trail.

It didn’t take long to be blown away. Almost immediately we were greeted with an amazing view, looking deep into the Anza- Borrego desert below.

As I stare out at the landscape, rolling hills rising from the sand, I struggle to pull my eyes away, and steer them back toward the trail. Every fold of every hill, becomes a focal point of wonder. I look closer and see more folds, more hills, more rocks. It’s a rugged endless landscape that’s mesmerizing to behold. Eventually I convince myself to return to the trail, to quit staring off into this nowhere built of sand.

Ridgeline, winds, and ridgeline, none seem to fade throughout the day. The trail winds and bends and brings us back to the ridge of epic views. There are few ways to describe it in words. Towering over the Anza-Boreggo desert, staring to the east, you can spot the Salton Sea, far off in the distance, a blue haze amongst the gold.

This is dry like I’ve never seen before, dry as far as the eye can see. 

The wind whips at our faces unrelenting. We hike on, and on and on. The beauty pulls us forward into the wind, over twisted trail and stones. This is what it means to walk the rim. Teetering on this trail, edged out of the mountains, we slow our steps to steady our feet as the wind grabs at our backpacks. 

We hike for miles, yet it feels like few because we look back and can still see the Mt. Laguna observatory where we started. But because the trail twists so much, following along the edge, we’ve actually traveled more than our eyes believe. A message on the trail reassures us, marking the 50 mile marker from the Mexican border.

Into the wind again we go. It blasts at our faces, and tugs at our backs. It raises our senses, and awakens our spirits. I laugh out loud of bliss at the beauty of the moment. We are frightened and thrilled all at once. This view, this wind, this trail align at once. And here we are Rachel and I, walking in it’s path.

Our feet thank the trail when we finally find an opening in the brush, where a seasonal stream must flow when it rains. Tonight we have little risk for rain, only 20%, so this could be a good place to camp. To the right I see another hiker setting up camp right in middle of where a stream would flow. So we cut to the left following the trail water has traced. We find a small level spot not far ahead, tucked in the brush, the perfect size for our tent. 

We battle the wind as it tugs at our tent. We wrestle it into position, and stake it in place in the sandy ground. We crawl inside and cook dinner in the vestibule. I clean sand from the inside, and try to block the wind using our backpacks.

What a day today was. We’ll brace for a windy night.