The Loop Newspaper - Tehachapi's Online Community News & Entertainment Guide

The Pacific Crest Trail, the Mexico to Canada footpath flows wild and rugged, while turning and twisting atop the backbone of the mountains of the American West. She calls so clear and loud. She calls: "Join me".

Since my last article, I trekked south to the San Gabriels for a fun 16 mile jaunt. For my journey, I started at trail mile 403 to the Mill Creek Ranger Station at mile 418, where my Angel picked me up.

I took a hard look at my 40 plus pound backpack: lifted it to my knee, put my left arm in the strap, swung my pack over back and my right arm went in, I bent over, fastened and tightened the waist belt, straightened, and adjusted the shoulder straps. Now I was ready for the "Trail."

Once loaded up, I received the usual passionate kiss and soft words of encouragement from my Angel. These feelings and words came back to me as I traveled along with the weight of the pack, the blackened fallen trees along the way that hindered progress, the narrow pathway across slopes where a wrong step could send me sprawling, all was lighter in mind and spirit with those words.

My intended campsite was Sulphur Springs. Along the Trail, I met up with fellow hikers: a group of three adults, two dogs and two children on their way for a family picnic at the springs. Great to see these parents taking the little ones into the wilderness, even if only a day hike. ­

I arrived at Sulphur Spring, a delightful campground with a small stream -- sometimes as wide as three feet -- a few inches deep, deep enough to feel the joy of the icycold water soothing my hot tired feet. The iciness of the water felt so good. I bent over, tilted my head, placed my ear close to the slow flowing stream, closed my eyes, and imagined the sound I heard was the rapids of the Colorado River. Memories like these last a lifetime.

The water looked good, clear and clean. Just in case, I filtered it. Filtering is very important, as I learned as I progressed along the Trail the next day. The camp was clean with wooden picnic tables, fire rings and areas leveled for tents. It is a drive-in campground during the season. It was closed for winter at the time, so I was there alone and loved it. The fragrant scent of the Jeffrey pines' sweet vanilla scent filled my sense of smell. As I placed my cheek next to the sun struck, warmed bark, memories of past experiences flowed: Zion, Alaska, Washington and Oregon, the Columbia River Gorge, Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainier and many other inhalations of that vanilla fragrance.

Along the Trail I stopped and rested frequently, taking time to look at the distant mountains, the fire-scarred trees, the birds, plants, lizards, and my thoughts went to the words of John Lubbock, "Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time."

Day two began with a small campfire, warming the spirit and the body in the 20 degree temperature. Breakfast was freeze dried ham and eggs (tasted great) and sweet hot chocolate. I filtered water and filled the water bags, hoisted and swung on the backpack, buckled up (I wondered if the forest rangers would cite me if I didn't buckle up), and I'm on my way. Next stop was Fountainhead Springs, mile 411. Not sure just what is there, but there, there is water, a necessity in this arid climate.

This was a delightful day along the Trail. I was a bit wore out upon reaching the spring because of a few hassles with the fallen blackened trees hindering my way. When I arrived at the spring, I dropped the pack and kneeled at the water edge. The water ran slowly, but deep enough to cup my hands and I took a swallow of the crystal clear refreshment. Then I looked for a campsite. I left my "Monster" backpack (Cheryl Strayed comes to mind as she relates her travels on the Trail in her book, "Wild," a wonderful account of travels on the PCT. She decided to name her pack "Monster"), and headed up the trail.

Not good!

Nothing was level, steepness and boulders minimized possibilities. I finally located a bit of a level area, just short of a mile from the spring. Not excellent, but better than anything else in the immediate area. I went back to retrieve my "Monster".

A bit breezy, I set up the tent on the almost level area. A ProBar meal and some hot chocolate made a wonderful dinner. The evening provided me with a delightful view of the setting sun, casting glorious colors of reds, violets and yellows brightening the puffy white clouds that hung loosely in the azure sky with their glory proudly demonstrated. The billowing clouds were white on top and gray on bottom. Their gray drifted earthward with streaks of moisture, which evaporated before reaching the arid desert landscape, while I snuggled into the warm mummy bag. During the night I was constantly shifting my body away from the granite stones that stuck through the bag and poked into various parts of me. My body slipped, conforming to gravity on the less than level tent site. Curling up seemed the most comfortable.

Sam K White

The cold sparkling water at Sulphur Spring was a delight for my hot tired toes and feet.

Day three at 2 a.m. I was up and expelling, perhaps something in that sip of water at the spring? "Next time, I'll filter it!" I exclaimed with a grunt. In the morning I packed up and headed down the trail through the blackened landscape that once was a thriving forest, as it shall become again. The fire, some five years ago, was massive – but now the forest is coming back. There is new growth everywhere if one looks close.

Cell service was bad, but I managed to contact Angel and arrange for a pickup at Mill Creek. Only six miles to go, and other than having to go around, over, or under the fallen blackened trees (crawling under a tree with a 40 pound backpack is somewhat challenging), otherwise it was an uneventful voyage. The most eventfulness was the feeling of Joy at being at this place at this time.

As I awaited my Angel's arrival at the trailhead I could see the upcoming trail glowing in the moonlight like a silver ribbon – twisting, reaching northward –, and I heard a Siren's soft voice, very clear, "Come with me, the Adventure has just begun."

Come back soon for more Adventures on the Trail.