Tired from yesterday, we’re in no hurry. We drink coffee, and chow on Muesli. Chef goes on a diatribe about his disdain for when people wear silly hats. He has many opinions, that are quite thought out in detail, and hilarious in nature.
We leave camp as Chef packs his gear, then passes us further up the trail.
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It’s a beautiful morning as we step outside our tent, where we perched along a ridgeline. We say good morning to Chef and Horse who are both slowly getting their stuff together. Lupine gives Horse some Trader Joes instant coffee that we’ve come to rely on on the trail. It comes already with the cream and sugar. Typically, I’m happy drinking my coffee black. But on the trail it’s nice to have the special treat.
Chef takes off down the trail. A short while later, so do we. We say to Horse, “see you up trail” and fully expect to see him soon when we pause to ditch our coats. It’s a cool morning, and Lupine and I both begin hiking in our warm coats fully expecting to overheat quickly.
…We awake rested and restored in Wrightwood. I fetch last night’s pizza from the mini fridge. The tomatoes are frosty, but I attempt to eat the pizza anyways.
We meet Chef at the local breakfast place. He came down from the trail this morning and he said it was frigidly cold last night. Although we’re sad we missed the section, we’re pleased to be restored today, ready to walk. Chef’s friend won’t be here until around noon, so after breakfast we all go sit outside at the coffeeshop, soaking up the sun. I sip on a fresh lemonade. Chef orders some crazy milkshake concoction, that’s more delicious than I’ve ever seen. We meet a small dog named Steven. He’s sits in the sun, panting.
…We wake up in the Cajon Pass Inn. It sits right along the freeway, so sleep was not in abundance. At around 5 am I hear a loud car that rattles me awake. It’s followed by the chatter of birds. The sound gives me a sense of solace in this interstate crossroads.
The Cajon Pass Inn sits at the intersection of I-15 and Highway 138. It’s a point of transition from San Bernardino to Victorville, or Palmdale, all aligned on the outskirts of Los Angeles. The area has a sense of nowhere, marked only by McDonalds, Subway, Del Taco, some gas stations and the inn.
…We woke up to sunshine filtering into the tent. It is a chilly morning so we decided to warm up with breakfast and coffee at the picnic table. After our climb yesterday, we were taking our time, coaxing our stiff muscles into the idea of walking all day. Our hiker friends Smooth and Puffy were beginning to stir in their tents. After some breakfast and coffee, we filtered water from a hidden creek about 1/4 mile off trail. It was just a trickle and we had to get enough for a 17 mile water carry, so it took a long time to filter all we needed.
After chatting briefly with Smooth and Puffy, we head out into delightful hiking weather. The sky is bright blue, a perfect backdrop to the scenery of the day. It’s not too hot and there is a gentle breeze.
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The days begin to merge together as we climb through the dry, barren hills of southern California. The scenery is beautiful, but the views are less inspiring than those we beheld from San Jacinto.
Have I become jaded to the scenery? Will only the most epic vistas capture my attention from here on out? I question if this fickleness is the problem with humanity – this need to be endlessly amused, and entertained.
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We’ve spent two days off the trail. Although we’ve enjoyed resting our feet, visiting with family, and cleaning our clothes, by the time we hit the trail we’ve grown antsy. Our feet are craving movement. Our eyes are craving the visual stimulation of new scenery every day or even every hour. Nature is a luxury that I feel lucky to walk back into.
Around 1 pm, Uncle Eddie drops us off. We situate our bags and walk again onto the trail. It’s over 80 degrees. The landscape is rugged and brown. We are surrounded by canyons.
…We awake early and rejuvenated. After a couple weeks on trail, and a limited number of showers, we are ready for a little break. And, today it’s within reach once we get to Idylwild. But first we have some snow to cross.
We spot Dimebag packing up his gear as Rachel and I drink our coffee. We’ve run out of breakfast so caffeine will have to carry us.
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I awake to watch the sunrise over the Palm Desert. The nightime lights of Palm Springs are still illuminated, speckles in the darkness. The sun splits the horizon into color layers. Blue, yellow, orange, the black of Palm Springs below still in darkness, and the brown sand of my surroundings.
I wonder how many others have just seen this. Maybe none. A few early birds tweet their appreciation, creating our fellowship of the sunrise. It’s just us. No instagram or television to broadcast it to the world. There’s no need for more than just us today right now.
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It was windy last night. We are both tired from two weeks of hiking without a break. I’m not motivated to get out of bed, but eventually I find it. The air hisses out of my sleeping pad as I squeeze it like a tube of toothpaste.
Today we have more elevation to gain. We will see snow. We will see views of the desert. This can be expected.
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