Pacific Crest Journal

John Manning of TGO Magazine is off in the States walking the 2,650-mile Pacific Crest Trail, quite a few of you were wondering how he's getting on with the bears, the through hikers and the cacti, so here's the first of what will hopefully be regular updates from the trail.

For more information about the PCT, see the Pacific Crest Trail Association web site. Unfortunately John hasn't been able to send us any pics, but if you want an idea of the sort of awesome scenery he's hiking right now, check out this picture gallery :-)

Greetings from Big Bear City, southern California, where I arrived yesterday afternoon after a 20-something mile hike that gave blisters on top of the blisters that had almost healed.

I'm now in the San Bernadino Mountains; so far much of it has been at fairly high altitudes (mostly above 7000ft) and wonderfully cool walking, among cedars, pinyon pines and junipers, though occasionally the trail dips back into ecological transition zones - it's peculiar to find cacti growing at the foot of some of the huge pines trees here.

Fritz the Cat and Uncle Gus...

Rattlesnakes have now become an almost daily occurance - three days ago "Fritz the Cat" almost stepped right on top of a sandy-coloured rattler as he, Uncle Gus and I were hiking in Mission Creek gorge. His reaction, though, like that of many hikers, was "Hey, want me to get him spittin' so ya can all git a great picture?" I've heard of hikers picking up rattlers with their trekking poles and throwing them off the trail. I won't be taking part in this adrenalin sport.

[Fritz the Cat and Uncle Gus are, of course, trail names. I thought I'd avoided getting a trail name but no longer: I'm either Limey John, Limey B*****d, or Snog (the latter simply because no American knows what the word means).]

Earlier in the San Jacinto mountains, near Tahquitz peak, I spotted the first signs of big wildlife - a pair of mule deer grazing in a wild, high meadow. They were as tame as the deer I recall from hiking in Yosemite National Park four years ago - they just raised their heads, assured themselves that I was just hiker trash, and carried on grazing.

Blisters on the soles of his toes..

Dropping out of the San Jacinto mountains involved a steep, lengthy descent that put blisters on the ends of my toes - Uncle Gus reckons he's going to lose the odd toe nail or two as a result of that one. We camped half way down the descent, below Fuller Ridge, on the only flat ground we could find. It meant huddling in among cacti and thorn bushes; Uncle Gus had to re-erect his tent after finding a thorn bush was completely blocking his door! That night we hardly slept as a harsh wind picked up that threatened to rip up my tarp twice in the night I had to grab hold of it to stop it blowing away.

But at the foot of the decent there was a nice surprise - a water fountain, where we drank up and washed off all the grime from the previous days. There then followed the crossing of San Gorgonio Pass, a stretch of desert that proved one of the toughest stretches of trail so far simply because it was never ending - Interstate 10, which runs through the desert-floor valley, never seemed to get any closer. What looked to be half a mile away turned out to be about three hot, dusty, windy miles away.

I say tomato...

However when we hit blacktop (an American word for tarmac - I get very frustrated when I read that "motorized" vehicles aren't allowed on the PCT; surely they mean "motorised"?) we hitched a lift with a volunteer firefighter to a Burger King restaurant (another Americanism for "greasy spoon cafe") in Cabazon where we over indulged, resupplied, met up with other hikers we'd not seen for days, hours or even minutes, and I called home. Not sure if the call home was welcomed or not - it was 12.30am in Lightcliffe, Halifax, not the 4.30pm it was in Cabazon, southern California. But nice to touch base and learn that all's well in Great Britainland.

One more hitch took us back to the trail and Gus and I camped about three miles north of the highway. But not after calling in at the Pink Motel. As every guidebook will tell you it's not pink and it's not a motel; it's a ramshackle collection of trailers and adobe in the desert, ringed by junked vehicles (some of which ARE pink), boats, trailers (okay, it's just a tad more lively than a scrapyard) thrown open to PCT hikers by owners Don and Helen Middleton. There was already around a dozen hikers esconsed on the sofas, sloors and such, taking advantage of the water brought in by the Middletons (this is a largely waterless stretch, or at least it's supposed to be), the cooker and freezer and other luxuries you can't find in (most) tents.

Dry like water...

Our next, supposedly waterless day began with a meeting with a south-bound day hiker called Mountain Man who assured us there was little or no water in the creeks, springs and campgrounds we were due to pass. But as the day progressed we almost grew tired of getting our feet wet crossing Mission Creek something like, oooh, two million-thousand times. Mountain Man was giving similar advice to all sorts of folk who were accordingly filling up every water bag and plastic bottle they carried in anticipation of dry campsites. If you've ever carried two gallons of water on top of your food and regular backpacking load you'll know what a back-breaking chore it is. Add the heat - still touching 100 degrees F - and it makes for a tough hike. So Mountain Man wasn't everyone's favourite hiker that night.

That day was also marked by the presence of firefighting planes and helicopters which circled the skies above us for several hours. It seems, from word of mouth in Big Bear City, that a careless hiker tried to burn his toilet paper in the desert and set fire to tinder dry grasslands. Word is he tried to put out the blaze with his hat, that he failed, that he set fire to his hat, that he's now in Big Bear and that the local fire chief is looking for him with a very big bill to be paid.

Ooops, it's a Siberian tiger...

And so to the last couple of days. As I said, much more pleasant hiking in proper mountains, with snow visible on San Gornonio mountain and San Jacinto Peak (which has been visible for days, like a beacon; I declined the side trail to the top though), cool shade among tall pines, squirrels and ground squirrels aeverywhere, jack rabbits, stellars jays, billions - yes BILLIONS - of woodpeckers, and surprisingly, near Onyx Peak, a grizzlie bear. And two brown bears. And a Siberian tiger. Okay, so they were caged specimens, awaiting audtions for Hollywood movies and such, but it was a strange sight to pass all these marvellous animals in a remote ranch close to the trail.

We camped not a mile beyond the ranch and the grizzlie could be heard roaring all night long, the sound echoing around the valley. It might be that he smelled the sardines I had for dinner that night... and yes, we did hang our food bags in case he escaped. That night was also the coldest so far - there was ice in the water bottles when we awoke, though to be fair we're having exceptionally warm, record-breaking weather and we were camped well abocve 7000ft that night.

Help, it's the woluff...

The final wildlife encounter was just as bizarre as the caged beasts. I was walking alone yesterday, head down, getting miles under my belt, when I looked up to find two wolves standing not 20 feet away from me. For some reason I only did a double take - perhaps I'm so in tune with wild dogs, having shared a flat for four years with Ben (Kennel name: Benjamin Postman Slayer Satan's Breath Zacharia), that I wasn't perturbed. Or perhaps it was the fact that one wore a blue collar and one a red. The chap taking Anubis and Lupa for a walk was just behind them and we had a nice long chat - the dogs were Timberwolf/Husky crosses and since I arrived in town I've seen them driving round several times in a red pick-up (I have to keep reminding myself that all cars here are left-hand drive and puppies can't really do the steering).

And so back to the hills tomorrow morning, provided all tasks here are complete. The longest task of any zero day is downloading digital photos from Flash Memory cards into my iPod - the thing takes so long to recharge that it's becoming redundant fast. Emptying one Flash card drains the entire battery. If anyone has any other suggestions I'd be very grateful.

My next scheduled stop will be in Wrightwood in five or six days time though it might be a resupply-only break, without chance for a long on. In which case the next break will be at Agua Dulce, five days after that.

Very big cheers

John ManningHiking the Pacific Crest Trail
pctjohnbadger@aol.com