Written, Tuesday, 20 Apr 2021.

Happy 4/20! I don’t know what is so special about today, but a whole lot of people wished me a happy one this morning. I guess Californians are just happy people.

Didn’t get much sleep last night, to be perfectly hones. After 4 years of long-distance hiking, you would think I would be completely blasé about starting a new hike, but...no. I am every bit as keyed up for the PCT as I was for the AT back in 2017.

There aren’t enough thanks to give my brother, who picked me up at te airport, gave me a place to stay and organize my gear in San Diego, and, most of all, got up at 4:00 this morning to drive me to the southern terminus which is, literally, 20 feet from the border with Mexico (see photo above). We only took one wrong turn into a Border Patrol area along the way, so we are both now in only a couple of databases of potential coyotes.

We still made it to the monument by 0630. Nobody else was there, as we puttered around, checking the small monument at the start, signing the log book, and checking to see if there was any place to prove I had a PCT pass for today. There was not. We did see quite a few border patrol officers, though.

The monument itself is suitably simple,—sturdy, a bit utilitarian—like a long distance hike. I’ve, boiled down to its bare essentials. I’m very much hoping to see a similar monument near the Canadian border in a few months and 2,650 hiking miles.

After hugging my brother good-bye, I started trudging back down the same road we had driven up, which was awesome because my brother was able to hand over the phone charger and adapter I had forgotten in his truck!

I am carrying 4 liters of water because I’ve heard horror stories about water shortages out here. With the water, my pack weight is 42 pounds, more or less. That’s actually heavier than I started the AT, if you can believe it. The good news is that my personal weight is about 40 pounds lighter than when I started the AT, so it’s mostly a wash.

Pretty soon, I turn of the road and head into the scrub and chaparral that you associate with the desert, but the Trail is wide and flat. The treadway is well packed and easy to walk. The sun is out in a clear blue sky. Things are warming up. Before I know it, I’ve gone my first mile. Just 2,649 to go!

A title more than 3 miles further, I cross a nice stream, deep enough to dip water out of. Luckily I don’t have to, because I am an idiot and have carried 4 extra liters of water 4 miles that I didn’t need to. And I’m not thirsty.

Two miles further, I cross another flowing stream, and I still don’t need water. So, for those of you keeping track, that’s 6 miles I didn’t end to carry water. And I’m still not thirsty.

About 7.9 miles in, I meet a fellow hiker who is just packing up his camp for the day. He started yesterday and camped here overnight. Through the conversation, I learned that he was out of water and didn’t really know how he was going to get himself to the next water source 7 miles ahead. I offered him a liter of my water, and he reluctantly accepted it. In return, he was forced to listen to one of my AT stories about how I was saved on my first night on the AT by an Trail Angel who stopped by with water at my campsite after I had run myself dry. By the time I was done, he looked like this wasn’t a fair trade, and he wanted to give the water back.

The climbs here are very gentle, much less than what I encountered on my first day on the AT, and the desecents are equally gentle. After 11 miles, I’m starting to think, “Wow, this is much easier than I remember it! If I were trying to convince someone to get into backpacking, ‘tis is where I would bring them.

That’s about the time the Trail turned of a wide, hard-packe horse trail onto a steep, narrow, winding descent into a sun-drenched gorge. The kind where cowboys go to accidentally die of thirst in Western movies. The path was rocky. The fine dust on top of everything made slipping a constant hazard. All the nearby vegetation was suddenly sharp and pokey. Plus, I was carrying a lot of extra water.

I finally made my way, a bit unsteadily, down to Hauser Creek, at the bottom of the gorge by about 14:00. There’s supposedly a water source here, but it’s dry. No problem. I finally have a reason to be happy I have all this extra water.

While I drink some water and pound down some peanut M&Ms (the perfect hiker food), I assess my options. I’ve done a little over 15 miles, so that’s a pretty respectable first day. I could stay here for the night. Or I could press on another 5 miles or so to the campground at Lake Morena, where there are showers, real bathrooms, and a malt shop/burger joint. I was tired, but it was too early to quit. I figure even if I’m slow, I can probably make it to Lake Morena before dark.

Of course, at the bottom a gorge, there’s only one thing you can do to make progress—start climbing. The path upwards is just as difficult as the path down. Plus the sun is directly overhead by now, and the cool weather has given way to a seriously hot afternoon. Nonetheless, I decide to head toward Lake Moreno. I mean, how bad could it be?

Folks, as we say in the south, “I liked to die.” I am sure I have had climbs in the past that were that difficult, but I can’t remember when. The 1,200 feet felt like 12,000, and I had to stop three times on the way up to gather myself.

At my second stop, I had an sudden, urgent, and unplanned gastric event. I barely had time to grab my toilet kit out of my bag and make a dash for the bushes. I did not have time to dig a hole to aim at before my bowels exploded.

I want to apologize to the Leave No Trace Institue now for the fact that I did leave a trace. More than a trace actually. Quite a bit more. I am not including photographic evidence. I’m just glad I didn’t get any on me.

After that excursion to TMI Land, the rest of the trip went okay. I was terribly tired, but I did make it to Lake Morena campground, where a gentleman named John offered me a cold Gatorade, and I met a German hiker named Silke whom I had seen during the day, also enjoying a cold, free Gatorade. We decided to get our tents set up and head for the malt shop in town, which we did.

I’m not going to say I was hungry, but I did forget to take a picture of this mass double bacon cheeseburger and mess of fries until after it was gone. It was moderately good...

I’m probably missing some important details, which I will remember later and wish I had put in the blog, but it’s time for bed.

I’m safe, dry, and warm in my tent at the Lake Moreno campground, surrounded by at least 40 other hikers, all snoring.

Sea Otter Fact of the Day: Sea Otters need their thick fur to maintain their high body temperature in the frigid water of northern California, Alaska, and the Russian coast, because, unlike other sea mammals, they have no blubber to keep them warm. In fact, Southern Sea Otters average just 2% body fat.

Miles hiked today: 20.2 Total miles hiked: 20.2

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