We got out of camp pretty late as usual. After a few miles we found ourselves down at the permanently closed Angeles Crest Highway CA Rt 2. Much of this road has been closed on and off since 2004 due to landslides and fires. According to the locals, they are supposed to open it back up any day but it was closed for now. There are two re-routes for the PCT in this section due to a protected frog's habitat and for landslides. Looking at the maps, we noticed that the reroutes added quite a few extra miles and using the road instead of the old trail so we decided we were just going to walk the closed HWY 2 all the way in to three points. I'm starting to get sick and tired of the way this trail has been routed here in Southern California. There is an awful lot of unnecessary walking going on. This may sound like a stupid statement coming from a person who has decided to walk from Mexico to Canada but the way I look at it is this, I've already committed to walk 2600 miles or more this summer but there's no reason why I should have to walk unnecessary miles for no reason at all. These trails have you walking back and forth and back and forth for no reason. It's extremely frustrating.
I am totally down to walk to exciting views and interesting geological structures or historical points of interest. That's actually what I was hoping that the people who created this trail had in mind. I also understand the ecological significance of switchbacks as well as the benefit of not having to walk straight up a hill; however, I'm frequently wondering to myself, "Were the hell are we going?" and inexorably the trail will go three miles out of the way for no reason at all. I find myself staring at the same mountain or desert view over and over again as I go around corner after corner for what seems like no other reason than to add miles to the trail. Some guys are like, "It's just the trail man, you're gonna do the miles anyway, why does it matter?" and to that I say, "Balderdash!" It does matter to me because if I was navigating to Canada without the PCT, expediency and conservation of route as well as other resources would be contingent upon my success. Anyway, we decided to hike the road instead of wasting 18 extra miles on re-routes. If it's a re-route anyway, we decided we would do our own re-route. I think it's my new philosophy. If the PCT re-routes, I'll decide which way I re-route. I'm starting to think that I can't wait to finish this trail so I can start badmouthing it but hey, why wait?
We spent all day hiking down the road, spearing pine cones and launching them at each other and walking this surreal, deserted road. There were tunnels going through the rock and I was singing Gregorian chants in the amazing echo chamber. We discussed doing a rave or a wedding or something like that right on the road or in the tunnel. I got some great footage of a rattler that we would have just walked right by but he got all ornery and started shaking his tail when we were practically past him.
There looked to be a storm front coming in soon and it was getting cold. When we got to Three Points we knew there was a restaurant a couple of miles from the trail. We walked it down to Newcomb's Ranch and got some food, played pool and waited out the storm. Bandit got a hold of his girlfriend and she offered to come pick us up because his family were going to hang out at a campground for Memorial Day Weekend. Bandit didn't have to try hard to convince me to come and stay with them. Actually he didn't even have to ask...
I felt a little guilty at taking all this time off but I figured I'm a vet and it's Memorial Day so I can take a little R&R.
We set up our tents and I got to take a cold shower. Me and Sprinkles met the whole family. I decided to take a walk around the huge campground. There were hundreds of campsites and a lot of different kinds of people hanging out here. It was weird. There were a ton of Mexican families partying and listening to Latin music. There were a couple of Church groups and a couple of campsites with all black families watching Def Comedy Jam on an improvised projector screen.
One thing that struck me as very strange: I didn't hear a single musician playing any live instruments. It really bothered me. Nobody was so much as strumming a guitar. I walked around to every campsite that night and didn't hear a harmonica, guitar, or even a person singing around a campfire. It was kinda depressing. The next day I saw a dilapidated guitar leaning up against a trailer but I think it was probably only used as a prop.
I slept in my tent in the campground. It was kind of weird being there with my ultralight gear and thru-hiking, spartan efficiency in the midst of all these huge luxurious tents and $ 500,000 RVs with satellite TV and Internet access. I was amused, imagining how none of these "campers" had any idea that there were three international men of mystery in their company, unobtrusively nestled in these meagre little tents with stinky, dirty clothes and scruffy demeanor. I drifted to sleep, feeling like the alter-ego of some strange super hero with no real powers. Like Forest Gump or something.
Just some guy dumb enough to walk across the country.
I am totally down to walk to exciting views and interesting geological structures or historical points of interest. That's actually what I was hoping that the people who created this trail had in mind. I also understand the ecological significance of switchbacks as well as the benefit of not having to walk straight up a hill; however, I'm frequently wondering to myself, "Were the hell are we going?" and inexorably the trail will go three miles out of the way for no reason at all. I find myself staring at the same mountain or desert view over and over again as I go around corner after corner for what seems like no other reason than to add miles to the trail. Some guys are like, "It's just the trail man, you're gonna do the miles anyway, why does it matter?" and to that I say, "Balderdash!" It does matter to me because if I was navigating to Canada without the PCT, expediency and conservation of route as well as other resources would be contingent upon my success. Anyway, we decided to hike the road instead of wasting 18 extra miles on re-routes. If it's a re-route anyway, we decided we would do our own re-route. I think it's my new philosophy. If the PCT re-routes, I'll decide which way I re-route. I'm starting to think that I can't wait to finish this trail so I can start badmouthing it but hey, why wait?
We spent all day hiking down the road, spearing pine cones and launching them at each other and walking this surreal, deserted road. There were tunnels going through the rock and I was singing Gregorian chants in the amazing echo chamber. We discussed doing a rave or a wedding or something like that right on the road or in the tunnel. I got some great footage of a rattler that we would have just walked right by but he got all ornery and started shaking his tail when we were practically past him.
There looked to be a storm front coming in soon and it was getting cold. When we got to Three Points we knew there was a restaurant a couple of miles from the trail. We walked it down to Newcomb's Ranch and got some food, played pool and waited out the storm. Bandit got a hold of his girlfriend and she offered to come pick us up because his family were going to hang out at a campground for Memorial Day Weekend. Bandit didn't have to try hard to convince me to come and stay with them. Actually he didn't even have to ask...
I felt a little guilty at taking all this time off but I figured I'm a vet and it's Memorial Day so I can take a little R&R.
We set up our tents and I got to take a cold shower. Me and Sprinkles met the whole family. I decided to take a walk around the huge campground. There were hundreds of campsites and a lot of different kinds of people hanging out here. It was weird. There were a ton of Mexican families partying and listening to Latin music. There were a couple of Church groups and a couple of campsites with all black families watching Def Comedy Jam on an improvised projector screen.
One thing that struck me as very strange: I didn't hear a single musician playing any live instruments. It really bothered me. Nobody was so much as strumming a guitar. I walked around to every campsite that night and didn't hear a harmonica, guitar, or even a person singing around a campfire. It was kinda depressing. The next day I saw a dilapidated guitar leaning up against a trailer but I think it was probably only used as a prop.
I slept in my tent in the campground. It was kind of weird being there with my ultralight gear and thru-hiking, spartan efficiency in the midst of all these huge luxurious tents and $ 500,000 RVs with satellite TV and Internet access. I was amused, imagining how none of these "campers" had any idea that there were three international men of mystery in their company, unobtrusively nestled in these meagre little tents with stinky, dirty clothes and scruffy demeanor. I drifted to sleep, feeling like the alter-ego of some strange super hero with no real powers. Like Forest Gump or something.
Just some guy dumb enough to walk across the country.
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1 comment:
Sounds like a great adventure! :)
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