Peak, Saddle, Peak

Today was an adventure. I woke up to a windy morning on palm view peak. The day's fun began shortly thereafter. The trail took me steeply downward, quickly losing 800 feet in elevation. However, less than a mile later, it began it's ascent. Within the first 3 miles I had climbed 900 feet. Of all the hiking I have done so far, this was by far the most exhausting, especially since these first few miles were on poorly kept trail. Countless times I waded through prickly brush, or had to climb over downed trees obscuring the trail. I spent much of the rest of the day hiking from peak to saddle and back to peak again, though the trail got better as the day wore on.

The first snow came on the north side of apache peak. It covered about 50 yards of trail. I figured it was no problem, until I looked downhill. The snow extended another 50 yards downhill, and after that it was nothing but dust and rock, at more than a 45 degree slope. I figured anyone who got sliding down that slope was in for a world of hurt. Though in fairness, probably not for long. I grabbed a pine branch and sunk it deeply into the snow for each step forward that I took. Fortunately I was not the first person here, and all I had to do was step in someone else's footsteps.

There were a few more traverses like this, though none really as remarkable. Besides, the trail was well cared for after apache, and I was just enjoying the hike. That is until I finally dragged my carcass up to 8000 feet, rounded to the northern side of red tahquitz peak, and found nothing but snow. For three miles I slogged through snow, geading west across the northern face of the mountain. Sometimes I followed the footsteps of others, but when it became clear that they were as lost as me, I branched off on my own trail. I figured if I headed upslope and toward a northerly trending ridgeline that the snow would ease and I would have an easier go of it. This was mostly true...

I had been postholing for the last couple miles. Meaning I would hike on what looked like solid snow, only to find a leg punch through to an air pocket hidden beneath the surface. This can obviously be dangerous, leading to sorained ankles or tweaked knees, so I was going slowly. The exception to the "easier go of it" was when I managed to posthole my entire body. I punched through with my left leg, tried to step out with my right only to find it sink in as well. I'm knee deep in snow so stepping out takes a lot of energy. I decided to crawl a few feet then stand up. I put both knees on the snow bank in front of me and leaned my hands against it as well. All four promptly sank into the snow. So now I'm on my hands and knees, sunk in the sniw with my face plowed into the snowbank in front of me. And had you walked by right then, all you would have seen is a backpack sitting on it's back in the snow.

Anyway, I did find tge trail, which finally led me to a spur trail down to Idyllwild. While walking the three miles into town I was picked up by Jules. Apparently PCT hikers are such a fixture here that people just stop to pick you up, even though I wasn't hitching. Jules drove me around town to show me what it had to offer, then dropped me at a hotel across from the post office and the grocery. I grabbed some first aid gear for my feet, a pizza, and picked up my resupply box. There is a hiker box here at the hotel. That's a box where hikers can leave gear and food they don't want. Tomorrow I'll open my resupply box and make some trades at the hiker box.

PS. I found out why my feet hurt so much. The blisters on the balls of my feet extended up between my toes and popped. That left a nice little pouch for rocks and dusy, which worked down to the balls of my feet but underneath my skin. So for three days I've been hiking with rocks under my skin and just assumed it was blisters.

PPS. While hobbling around my hotel room I kicked the bed frame and split open my little toe.

PPPS. There is a storm coming this wed through sat. I am here tonight and tomorrow, but may have to camp nearby until the storm passes.