Section 05. Agua Dulce to Hikertown

Agua Dulce was a nice rural small town and the Saufley’s were very hospitable but I found their ranch almost too crowded. There were a lot of nice hikers there but also a few who stayed up late chatting and smoking marijuana. It was not the scene I had in mind and I wanted to return to sleep under the starry Chaparral sky. So I said my goodbyes late afternoon and headed off to walk 5-10 miles.

 

I walked with an Aussie called Neil. He had the typical wry smile and glint in the eye of a rural Australian or Kiwi. He was doing about 25 miles a day. We both did about 5 miles and cowboy camped in a dry creek bed. It was very clear that night with all the constellations visible and not a hint of mist. Nevertheless when I woke to a still clear sky everything was covered in a thick layer of dew. My sleeping bag especially was soaked and the Manzanita bushes were dripping dew.

 

Neil soon disappeared as we climbed the first hill. On this south facing slope everything was Chaparral shrub. There were a couple of grassy homestead farms each side of the ridge with grassy pastures on the valley floor with amber dew laden grass.

However, the north facing slope was a delight. Large Scrub Oaks were scattered thickly on the hillside with large glades of maroon headed grass between them. Amongst the grass were drifts of light purple flowers on tall stalks. The flowers were called Farewell to Spring. This continued for the half mile down to the lush Bear Spring, where fresh water flowed out of the ground and down a pipe.  There were about 10 hikers there in the end enjoying the lush shade. We were joined by a hummingbird who bathed in the trickle of water below the pipe and entertained us for a few minutes.

The path then dropped through more lush vegetation for another couple of miles into the valley before another climb. The midday to afternoon climbs on a south facing slope were guaranteed to be hot. How hot depended on the height of the vegetation. On this climb  it was reasonably high Chaparral of Manzanita and Chamise and there was a fair bit of shade. There were wild cucumbers growing everywhere on the scrub but most of it was withering now but the prickly fleshy fruit was ripening.

 

I saw a hornet at one stage on the sandy path which had obviously just killed a grasshopper. As I watched it quickly dug a hole in the sand, flew over to grasshopper, grabbed it and flew back to the hole, disappeared down it and covered it up. I assumed it would either eat it in privacy or will lay eggs in it so the larvae would had something feed on initially.

 

Again as soon as we were on the north side of the ridge the vegetation became much lusher again.  The route descended into Spunky Canyon where there were a few trickles of water from side canyons. However these were rapidly drying up. The path then contoured around the upper reaches of another canyon, at the bottom of which was the pastoral village of Green Valley, an oasis in the Chaparral scrub. Most people were going down to spend the night at “Trail Angles” down here, called the Andersons. I decided to skip it and have a quiet night at camped alone in the grounds of the Ranger and Fire Station.

 

Even before I woke people had already walked the 2 miles from the Andersons in Green Valley to the Fire Station, including Mishap, the only other Scot so far who was a lady from Dumfries. We climbed up to the Leona Divide ridge and then descended a burnt area to the Lake Hughes Road. There was some shade at the road but everyone could see what was coming and was anxious to continue before the heat  built. In the sandy dry creek bed were some prize specimens of the dreaded poodle dog bush looking very innocent with long green leaves and a thick crown of beautiful purple flowers

 

The climb up from Lake  Hughes Road was hot. It was midday and the area had suffered a recent fire. The sun beat down mercilessly and I had virtually no shadow as the sun was directly overhead. The fire had removed all the vegetation and exposed hillsides of white rock and gravel which reflected the heat back. When it climbed a ridge there was the faintest breeze or a thermal causing a stir but when the path went into a sheltered ravine it was like a furnace. After an hour I reached the main ridge and was rewarded with a constant  breeze and a great view.

To the north was the Mojave Desert, barren except for fields of solar farms which looked like square lakes. Between me and the Mojave was a ridge and between my ridge and this ridge marking the southern border of the Mojave was a pastoral valley. This valley was the San Andreas fault where two geological terranes slide against each other. Currently they are not sliding but are jammed together, waiting until the pressure builds enough and they judder sideways again in an earthquake.

 

The fire burn area continued along the crest of the ridge for a couple more miles until it reached a copse on the fires limit. Here there was a camped marked on the map. When it reached its shade i was delighted to see nearly everyone who had overtaken me so far today flaked out  under the shade of two benevolent Black Oaks.  Some 20 people were there. Most were snoozing and a few chatted quietly. We waited in their dappled shade for two hours until the worst of the day’s heat started to dissipate.

 

Most people had another 8 miles to Sawmill Camp but I decided to go to Shake Camp in just 3 miles. As I walked west the ridge I was on became more squeezed by the Mojave Desert. I could see I was walking towards the end of a wedge and would soon have to cross the desert. Luckily the fire burn area had finished and the woods here on the eastern slopes facing the Mojave were dominated by the large coned Coulter Pines. Huge cones littered the forest floor. Some were 3 kilos and 30 cm long. One of these on head would put you off the Trail for a while!.

 

Shake campground was a good 15 minutes and a long way below the trail. I was committed to go there as I was out of water. As I descended I thought it was a mistake and the increase in flies and bugs confirmed it. However, I had to get water which was even further down beyond  the camp. There was a lot of Poison Oak beside the path to the water. Along with Poodle dog bush it was another thing to watch out for as it could also give skin blisters. As I was having  my meal 3 hikers who I spent much of Section 02 with arrived in the dusk, Justine, Theo and Alex. There were a happy bubble and it was great to chat with them until the cooking was done.

 

Before the day started I had to hike the 20 minutes back to the PCT path. Once there it was an easy hike on the north side of the ridge for a good few hours in the cool forests. I was astonished to see Douglas Fir here on the slopes leading down to the Mojave. I always assumed Douglas Firs enjoyed the wet mossy climes much further north. I felt good as contoured around the hillside going in and out of side valleys. The only downside was the copious insects, small inoffensive flies mostly but the odd determined horse fly amongst them. I was constantly coughing up the smaller ones I inhaled to the extent I was nearly became a carnivore again. After Sawmill Camp,  which was yesterday’s alternative camp spot the path crossed to the south side.

This was a different story. No more lush conifers but hot Chaparral scrub. It was still and there was no cooling breeze to cool me or banish the bugs. Pretty soon I reached the 500 mile mark and thought of the Proclaimers. After the celebratory photo I started to climb. I was looking for a shady windy spot to relax  but there was none. I climbed and climbed in the heat of the day through scrub oak and Manzanita.  Both were heavily adorned with lush virile wild cucumber, unlike yesterday’s withered ones.

 

I past a couple of the Young Team. Afterburner who was wrapped in her tent while Aseagio just had a bug net on. They were surprised to see anyone hiking in the midday sun. Mad dogs and Englishman as Kipling would say! I went on and on for another 4 miles but could not find somewhere to relax.

 

At last I came to the Liebre Mountain Guzzler, a mostly buried fibreglass tank with a large corrugated iron roof which collected rainwater. It was full of clear cool water. Nearby was a copse of Black Oaks swaying in the wind and under them some tall green grass. It was a perfect spot to rest and I spent a bug free hour there rehydrating and snoozing.

 

As I walked back up the track to the PCT i came across a confident 4 foot Gopher Snake. It was not venomous and some people said they kill and eat rattlesnakes. I watched it for 5 minutes from a few metres away and it was fully aware of me.

 

Once back on the PCT the path now dropped down to the north side again. For 4 miles I had a wonderful saunter through large Scrub Oaks and Black oaks. It was like a parkland which had gone feral. There were many grassy glades and some flower meadows. It filled me with joy to walk through this tranquil warm yet shaded woodland.  Occasionally I would catch views of the San Andreas fault just below and the arid Mojave beyond just a few miles away.

This sensational 2 hour walk lead to Horse Canyon Camp where there were some 10 hikers including Justine,  Alex and Theo and also Blue who I not seen for a while. I also learned Top’O had just left. It seemed everyone else was going, most to Hikertown in 10 miles. However there was a campsite and water in 2 miles at the bottom of the slope and right on the San Andreas fault. We all headed down with Blue and myself last. We met Top’O at the bottom and chatted briefly before Blue headed on and I found a campsite.

 

The final 8 miles to Hikertown were easy. It was an undulating descent through the last of the Chaparral until finally just a few scrubby bushes remained. The vegetation now was just a sea of willowy amber grass with tall delicate heads. They stretched as far as the eye could see across the Mojave Desert before me with just a few green irrigated circles and solar farms.

Hikertown was an odd place. It looked like the stage set for a children’s version of a Western movie. They were all sorts of buildings and sheds, most with a Western theme. A saloon, a sheriff’s office, a jail, a hardware store, etc. Most provided some accommodation, but there were also old camper trailers and perfunctory sheds with beds in for the hikers, most were as dirty as the arriving hikers. I got a breezy camper trailer and was pleased with it.

 

The place was already busy when I arrived but soon more and more hikers poured in. The young team of Aseagio, Waves,  Clouds etc, Dirt and her bubble of hiker friends, the very fast Snake Eyes and Black Widow, Top’O, Fish and many more. It was quite a reunion. Dirt ran an errand for me to the shops and Top’O presented me with a cold beer on arrival

 

Over the course of the 500 miles so far i have had to contend with many ailments. Feet problems and butt chafe being the worst. The latter I soothe  with a cream. However no matter how hard I try to stay hydrated going to the toilet is hard work. Imagine a handful of Lego bricks shrink wrapped in coarse grade sandpaper. As a consequence piles seems to have reared its head and it takes discomfort to a whole new level from butt chafe.  

 

The next section from Hikertown to Kennedy Meadows is the driest section on the PCT. At times it is 40 miles between reliable water sources. As a consequence many hiker do large proportions of this a night and I will too. With a full moon due in a few days my timing is perfect. It should take 11-12 days to get to Kennedy Meadows so I should get there on 16-17 June, which is a few weeks too early for this winter’s near record snowfall to clear, but even now people are making it through a beating a path.  

Back