One Day on the Pacific Crest Trail

I have applied and been approved a permit to hike the entire length of the Pacific Crest Trail in May of this year.

So today, in hot and sunny Southern California I thought I would drive to my nearest access point to the trail itself and just give it a bit of spin. The result was four hours of one of the most beautiful, serene and challenging day hikes I have ever undertaken.

Living in Rialto California, my nearest trail head was just over the Cajon Pass off of the 138 Highway Exit on I-15. I set my gps destination to Mormon Rocks Interpretative Trail first by mistake, which lead me to a gorgeous 1 mile loop trail head that I did not do but I will definitely be going back to that one sometime. Luckily, the helpful and handsome firefighters that are stationed by the start of that trailhead pointed me in the right direction. I know I am a lesbian but I still have man-crushes!

Moving on, I drove out this dirt road called Swarthout Canyon Road, and there about halfway down a massive dusty basin were the signposts on either side of the road for the Pacific Crest. I was so excited.

Out there in this little pocket of dry, dust, the land looks completely empty, sprawling and eternal.

I had to do a tiny bit of guess work over where to park my car but there was another vehicle parked along the road and I thought that was a pretty good indication, as there was nothing else anyone could be there for other than the PCT.

However, as soon as I found the signpost and began hiking up towards the mountains that I knew lead to Mt Saint Antonio, I encountered an old man in a cowboy hat with two dogs. He seemed friendly enough, but it was just me and him and my survival instincts suddenly kicked in making me realize that if he was a bad Ted Bundy like figure, there was nothing I could do about it. We were utterly, oppressively alone. However, I reasoned to myself, we are all going to die one day and if women everywhere don't do things they love like hiking, out of fear of men who might overpower them they are surrendering their power and complicit in patriarchy. Still, the thought did occur to me that if I really do do the trail solo, which at this point it looks like I am--then I will invest in some pepper spray.

After a brief chat with the man and his dogs I began my steady assent of the mountains. I did not see any one else except a chipmunk and some well-meaning lizards on the rest of my journey upwards.

There were few charred remains of trees, rising like dead fingers out of the burned earth. I heard a babbling stream so loudly from far below and was amazed by the clarity of sound made by bird's wings as it flew over me.

The trail was a series of meandering switchbacks to the top of the first ridge where it merged with a dirt road that I could tell was popular with offroading vehicles. The view down the other side of the mountain was gorgeous and I could not believe it was February and so incredibly hot and sunny. I had also never hiked anywhere that was so utterly empty of people and this made me consider that the whole PCT would probably be a very lonely but uniquely wonderful experience to bond with nature on a new level.

As I followed the dirt road around I saw that it lead to some snow peaked mountains deeper in the San Bernadino Forest. I had been hiking up for over two hours so at this point and with this vista I reluctantly turned around. I knew I would see all of this again very soon and I would then have no intention of leaving.

Before leaving I saw a box for PCT hikers with two notebooks and pens that were heavily trafficked from last years class of hikers. Reading through a few pages of signatures from people joyfully named "Red Beard" and "Atlas" made me excited to join such an inspiring community of people. I feel enormously privileged.