We stayed the first night at the Tehachapi airport, a tiny airfield where pilots have to radio each other on a designated frequency because there isn't an ATC tower. The airport is "PCT Hiker Friendly", a magic phrase that means cheap food, cheap lodging, and if you're lucky, showers. Hikers get to use the pilot's lounge and camp in a small grassy park onsite for only $5 a night. The lounge's La-Z-Boys are constantly occupied, the room's television turning hikers into transfixed unblinking zombies. A local woman drops off food for the hikers every day of the week, and every night at 3am the sprinklers come on to give your tent a wash (included in the price!). How could we pass up such a deal?
Jan's stepdad arrived the next day with hotel reservations for us and a promise of sushi dinner. In the meantime, there was a bakery that needed extensive investigation on Alyssa's part for, uh, professional reasons. (Note: Kohnen's Country Bakery is excellent. Get the boysenberry danish before they sell out, a mug for your bottomless coffee, and a chocolate chunk cookie to-go). So with full bellies and after an outrageous soak in the jacuzzi tub in our hotel bedroom, we were ready to slam out the much-maligned "Section F": eighty-five miles of uncertain-to-no-water sources.
After a long, lazy breakfast at Kohnen's, Bent dropped us off at the trail where it intersects Highway 58. We began our trek through dry grass and Joshua Trees, the path easy and level as it paralleled the highway. Wind turbines on the surrounding crests keeping a smug eye on us, we turned left sharply and the switchbacks began. The switchbacks...and the wind. Up and up we toiled, the wind intensifying to gale force across some of the passes. What plants that managed to grow were flattened against the ground by the constant howl. The occasional cheeky pinyon pine stood (relatively) tall in defiance, and we crested a ridge to find a patch of them forming a perfect windbreak for snack time. As we climbed further up and made our way northeast, the desert transformed into oak and pine. We hiked until we hit our first water resource of Section F, Golden Oaks Spring. Like a watering hole on the African Savannah, all manner of strange species gathered near the life-sustaining spring making strange noises and waiting for their turn. After refilling our water to capacity we hiked on, determined to finish our scheduled twenty-two miles that day. Just before sunset we found a camp site near some old wind turbines in the welcome shade of a pine tree.
The next day dawned gloomy and overcast, and the normally white wind turbine blades turned a hue of eggshell blue in the strange light. We packed up camp and set off, keeping a watchful eye on the clouds in case some rain might chance to break the stifling humidity. Crossing through terrain dominated by oaks and cow pies (with only one unseen cow lowing from her hilltop), we climbed higher and higher until we reached Landers Meadow. It was heart-swelling in its likeness to a bona-fide Sierra meadow: lush open greenery hemmed in by tall pines. We tramped happily off-trail to Landers Spring, a delightfully clear and abundant piped spring at the top of a small meadow. We set up camp amid granite boulder piles, luxuriating in the soft pine needle beds and cool climate. Between us and the next reliable water source lay forty-five hot, dry miles of arid semi-desert. Fortunately for us and our little group of fellow travelers, Alyssa's parents had decided to conjure up more trail magic at Bird Spring Pass, about halfway through the extended dry section. Before setting off the following morning, Alyssa made sure everyone around camp knew there would be water at Bird Spring Pass the morning after next.
Again we filled our water to capacity and set off. Less than five miles later, our shade cover had disappeared completely and clear skies blazed down on us. Wait a minute! What happened to the trees? The meadow? Why were we suddenly looking at barren brown hills dotted with Joshua Trees again?! Lamenting the return to the desert, we pushed down a ravine as the day heated up, passing Kelso Valley Road and an unexpected water cache. Having conserved our water thus far we didn't fill up, leaving the small cache for someone who really needed it. The day proved long, hot, and difficult. Old mining roads, cars, and equipment rusted in the sun at intervals along the route, testament to the area's historical use. Our afternoon break was spent under a generous Joshua Tree as a few late afternoon clouds passed overhead. We didn't dally in the shade too long, as the constant awareness of miles left to walk ousted us back onto our feet almost as soon as our sweat-soaked shirts had started to dry. We managed to get to the crossing of Bird Spring Pass at the end of the day, where we put up the tent under the shelter of a pinyon pine and relished in a sunset that only the desert can produce.
Jan's 35th Birthday dawned with clear skies and the promise of fresh provisions. We made our way a few steps down to the road and amongst the tents of our hiker bubble tucked against granite boulders and under pinyons. We made some instant coffee and shared a package of PopTarts to pass the time while waiting for Alyssa's parents. They arrived promptly at 7:30am. Hugs were dispensed first, water second. While Alyssa's dad chatted up our gang, Alyssa's mom set up a card table and camping chairs in the shade of the truck. The spread started out with birthday cake, cookies, fresh fruit, pitted dates, and sodas. A round of "Happy Birthday" to Jan and a couple pieces of cake later, we burned off the sugar rush climbing 2000 feet in four miles. Yet again, the Joshua Trees made way for pinyon pines and oaks, except this time the shade wasn't as vital as usual. Unlike the past few days' timid clouds, thick blankets of gray floated heavily overhead. We were afforded clearer views of the storm clouds as we climbed higher onto the plateau. The trail turned onto a jeep track, each rut and undulation deepening our irritation with the lazy route planning. With a bit of thunder booming in the distance, we wound across the equally moody plain and had to step off the trail from time to time, yielding to Jeeps and motorbikes. It was as the last motorbike left us in a wake of exhaust fumes that the thunder pealed directly overhead. Footsteps later, big fat raindrops dampened the dusty road and we realized that the rain curtains had become uncomfortably close and all around us. As soon as the trail left the Jeep track and resumed a proper tread, the thunderstorm gave us a good flash of lightning with an immediate resonant boom of thunder. Point taken! Considering our position on the high end of the plateau and the lack of cover, we took quick action. Downwind of the storm, we sheltered beside a granite boulder and put up the tent. Rain steadily fell as we tossed our backpacks and boots in the tent, crawled in with them, and waited. The hiking had made us sweaty, the storm had made us steamy, so we napped in an uncomfortable enclosed damp stink while the thunder and rain continued overhead. An hour later, the storm had cleared to the south so we packed up our wet tent and shouldered our packs. By now it was 5:00pm and we still had almost eight miles to go until we reached our goal for the day. Time to book it! Managing a swift pace aided by the gentle descent, we fairly jogged down the side of the canyon to make Walker Pass campground before dark. The clearing skies and late afternoon sun cast the trail, pinyons, and oaks into a warm post-storm glow. We arrived at the campground tired but triumphant, and to the cheers of a welcoming committee of our fellow hikers. Some Trail Magic had arrived and Jan was handed a celebratory birthday beer. With the help of a rare campfire and conversation with other hikers, we managed to stay up past 9:00pm to enjoy the success of completing Section F.
Here is where having low expectations often beats having high expectations. Section F was hard because of the scarcity of reliable water sources, but it was also surprisingly beautiful, which made for some excellent hiking. We expected the worst and were pleasantly surprised when it turned out to not be all that bad. Section G contains Kennedy Meadows and the start of the Sierras, so when we set out from Walker Pass the following morning it was with a skip in our step, knowing that the desert was officially over. How terribly WRONG we were. What followed was two days of the desert in disguise and a potpourri of curse words directed at the trail. The forests of pine and oak thinned to the point of uselessness and the temperature kept rising. We were sweating more than we had in any of the proper desert sections. For two days we took turns complaining about the stifling weather and the lack of anything that felt like the Sierra, despite the geological fact that we were, indeed, in the Sierra. Unfortunately, the southeastern side next to the Mojave desert and the south end of Owens Valley is more like the desert and less like the mountains, even though we were trekking between 5,000 and 8,000 feet.
We traversed around Owen's Peak, a scraggly white granite mass that certainly looked like it belonged to the Sierras. The trail dipped down to Spanish Needle Creek and back up a painfully hot and steep slope. We made camp three miles beyond the creek when the narrow steep trail finally relented at the crest of a saddle. The next day we climbed up Bear Mountain, an area which suffered a major fire in the early 2000s from which it never recovered. This was the moment we had been waiting for, as Mt. Whitney and the high Sierra came into the distant view as we reached the end of the six mile climb. As we descended to Manter Creek, masses of Flannel Bush with its cheery yellow flowers struck an exceptionally bright note in the setting sun. We made camp in the broad valley at Manter Creek, the sharp granite needles and fins of Dome Lands Wilderness to the West and Sequoia National Forest to Northeast. With only ten miles remaining to Kennedy Meadows (what all hikers consider to be the proper start of the Sierras), we knew the desert was actually, seriously, for real this time, behind us.
The next morning, most of our contingent were smelling the barn and were already on the trail by the time we woke up at 6:30am. We were greeted with a cheery "Happy Kennedy Meadows Day!" instead of "Good Morning" while we ate our oatmeal. Our seventh straight day on the trail was made easy by an almost-level trail, cloudy cool weather, and the knowledge that in a few short hours we would be at the Kennedy Meadows General Store.
Alyssa's parents were waiting at the store amongst the twenty or thirty hikers enjoying the patio, hamburgers, and refreshments. Gear and resupply boxes were scattered everywhere, and the mood was buoyant with everyone happy to have finally reached this milestone.
We said our farewells and climbed into the truck for the drive back to Simi Valley for some time off the trail for a wedding, all the food and drink we have been dreaming of, water that doesn't need to be filtered, and a few hundred bucks of new gear. We'll enjoy the rest, but come Sunday we will be back at Kennedy Meadows, refreshed and ready to take on the Sierras, one step at a time.
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