Who'd-a-thunk it

It feels ridiculous to admit that my winter survival skills were most heartily tested in a Southern California summer. However, facts are as they stand.

Six days ago Rif-Raf, Frog and I caught a ride out of Idyllwild with a well known trail angel, David Ledbetter. He told us stories of years and seasons past. Every mile closer to the trail, it became harder to sit still and wait. Finally we were there and were powering through the scrubby, mid-morning ascent The switchbacks finally gave way to a crest and trail which swung up peaks and dropped through saddles. The desert valley floor spread out some 6000 ft below. Across it the San Andreas Fault crimped the earth. It looked like a giant gopher had burrowed past.

Our ridge became idyllic, green landscape. A mix of deciduous and coniferous trees filled the spaces between alpine meadows. A crystal blue lake danced under the afternoon sun in some tucked away valley floor. We began to notice snow, frozen into sideways blown icicles, clinging to the south sides of trees and shrubs. While I had chafed at spending 2 days in Idyllwild, we were all glad not to have been present for the storm which had made those! Nonetheless, passing when we did, it felt almost ethereal.

The next morning began a 2000 ft climb over 1.6 miles. As the trail snaked into craggy nooks and around the South face of mountains and ridges, we began to encounter patches of snow. Anxious to be safe (and to play with our winter gear) we carried our ice axes in the uphill hand, and poles for steadying on the downhill side. At first the patches were short and flat. Then short and steep. Fortunately others had passed before us and kicked in steps. Then the patches were longer and steeper and we began strapping on our traction devices, crampon or microspikes. By the last 2 miles there were no signs of the trail and we were relying on the contour lines and Granite and Terrapin’s GPS to give us the way points to follow. That night we made camp on the snow and slept cold and hard.

The whole of the next day was the same, except with new challenges. Our resident Viking, Granite muscled out front, cutting steps and shooting bearings. Rif-Raf was our route scout, picking his way ahead and calling us along. When safer options were available. We traversed snow chutes thousands of feet long and paused to enjoy views when our axes were snuggly sunk and the footing was good. The difference in the snow quality changed dramatically depending on sun exposure. The open fields were soft and prone to post-holing, under the shade of trees it was icy. At one point I slipped and lid some 10 ft before I was able to roll and self arrest. It was exciting and I am glad for the half day of training on the glacier last year! The south-east slopes were largely melted and clear and we got a couple half mile sections of exposed trail. The rest of the time we were doing good to make it a mile an hour. One day we made 8 miles and I’ve never worked harder for it!

Yesterday we began to bleed elevation, dropping a total of 7000 ft. The trail ambled and meandered down scrubby desert and through boulder fields. One rock looked like a huge schnoz; we had fun with that! Another was a catcher’s mitt and still another was as monkey wearing a Spanish Armada Helmet. 16 miles spat us out into a wide ravine where the local towns gather melt water to try to reduce the amount trucked in. A small fountain stood proud to see, as you would think we’d found the fountain of youth.

We all hid from the afternoon heat in the shade of a boulder and took turns cleaning ourselves and our socks. As a group we decided to hitch into the town of Cabazon as the snow had slowed us down enough to run us a day shy on food. So as to stagger our hitching efforts, Frog, Rif-Raf and I made dinner with the others at the water source and then moved out into the windy desert flats to camp.

We watched the sun recede up the face of the mighyt San Jacinto Mountain and the ridges from which we came. The snow riveted peak wore a skirt of sandy foot hills, stained red by the sunset. Ridge faces speckled by shrubs looked exactly as even any tiny component; sandy blond with tiny dark speckles.
And so, another mountain range passed. Today we moved into a wind turbine field. The mighty beasts whistle their winsome song as I write this, hidden in the shade of an above ground water tank, waiting for the final four of our seven to catch up.

Oh yeah, so our original five: Granite, Terrapin, Rif-Raf, Frog and I finally met up with friends of Granite and Terrapin from the east. Dude hiked the AT with them in 2007 and his woman, Trouble, is my most favorite singing partner. Our powers combined are team CRASS-a-FRASS.