The hike from Highway 58 near Tehachapi Pass to Kennedy Meadows is 140 miles long with multiple strenuous climbs. Hopefully the previous 560 or so miles gets you conditioned for this patch and the upcoming push through the Sierras. We were conditioned when we arrived in Tehachapi, but a week of pizza, hamburgers, burritos, frozen yogurt, beer, and tequila definitely had its effects. Recovering the weight was definitely a plus, I was down to 155 pounds when I reached Tehachapi, and got back up to 161 by the time we left.
We encountered a hiker named J.R. running down the first steep climb up from the highway. He had left something down at the pass. The climb was super windy, but just a preview of the gales we would encounter up ahead. The Mojave Desert blurred in a far off haze to the East, and the Tehachapi Valley, with the town and the Monolith Granite Mine in its palm, shined so golden, and so far away. We encountered J.R. later while taking a break on the other side of the climb. He had done the trail before, and was planning on breaking off at Walker Pass to rest in Lake Isabella for awhile. We descended back down into more wind turbine country, rounding along a forested slope. We started so early that we were able to take a long break next to a spring spigot. A hiker with all of his items in a gray sack passed by the spring, but we weren't able to get a lot out of him. J.R. had said people were referring to him as 'David Carradine,' referring to Carradine's famous role as a warrior monk who carried a large sack in the T.V. show 'Kung Fu.' I thought the Carradine reference was a bit unfortunate due to the actor's peculiar demise, and will from now on refer to him as 'Lone Walker.' Our slightly awkward introduction with Lone Walker was interrupted by low flying military fighter jets engulfing us with massive sound. We did a total of 19 miles that Tuesday, and camped near a ridge of wind turbines in a flat, grassy spot amid some sheltering trees.
On Wednesday morning the father and son section hiking duo we had encountered just past Lake Hughes chanced upon us again. They were heading South to HWY 58, completing the last section they had planned for early summer before he had to go home and take care of his 'Honey-Do' list. The trail seemed more and more like a small community on the move. I would encounter Lone Walker twice that day, only able to extract brief greetings from him both times. He did witness me approach a tree that had shed its bark but was emitting a strange, constant knocking noise. As I got close to it a small bird that I was unable to even slightly identify shot out of a hole and false charged my face, pulling up less than six inches from my nose. I stumbled back and tried to walk on as if nothing had happened. The water was scarce in these parts, and our days were planned carefully around water sources. I went pretty dry for a long portion of the day, which included a dirt road walk that was almost three miles long and three miles longer than my waypoints guide had said it would be. Along the way Yogi and the Three Bears and etched their names in the dirt next to an abandoned tire. I got to Robin Bird Spring with a dry tongue and a parched throat. We camped a few miles later next to a healthfully flowing creek in a wooded area that was a nice departure from the desert landscape around us. We had plenty of daylight to eat our freeze dried Mountain House dinners on the rocks above our campsite.
The trail twirled around through the woods on Thursday morning, crossing our stream several times. Someone left some Chewy Bars in a sign in box next to a service road. While only minimal calories, the taste took my mind off of my sore feet, which were still adjusting to being used again. We dropped quickly from the forest down to Kelso Valley, stopping at a water cache next to Kelso Road. The next fifteen miles were an unexpected struggle against heavy Santa Ana Winds that whipped me around like a doll. On several occasions a gust would catch me from the side and thrust my backpack around like a sail, at one point landing me in a cactus. I carefully planned out my break for the afternoon behind a particularly wide tree in the fold of a hill, but it was still a windy, cold, and barely restful affair. The trail climbed up towards Wyley's Knob, which overlooked the desert and HWY 14 below. The wind was comical on the West side of the feature, the East side, though less windy, was blocked by the sun in the late afternoon by the steep hill. This patch was quite pretty to look at, lots of pleasing rock outcroppings, obviously windswept terrain. We camped in a small protective grove of joshua trees, just off of Bird Spring Canyon Road and its trail junction water cache. The wind whipped at us all night. Chris and I both stabbed ourselves on the joshua trees that surrounded us as we set up our tent. We were sitting on a gentle slope down to the desert, a pretty view, but we were cold, and our mummy bags and tent seemed like better options than sightseeing. We made 25 miles on Thursday, and we were in for some big climbing on Friday morning.
Lone Walker had started up the ridge in the morning before we did. It was a 1600 foot climb over three miles, with most of the gain at the very beginning. I passed by Lone Walker on the way down the other side, and he responded to my greeting with an audible sound. The trail sank back into a high desert environment, following a road for several miles. We stopped at a creek covering the road to get some water and a mid-day rest. Some smoke blew over us from the West, which we would later learn was from a minor forest fire near Lake Isabella. The last half of the day was mostly downhill, we passed a section hiker named Symbiosis, who had two friends with the same backpacks as Chris and I. He was very true to the 'Hiker Handshake,' which is simply an elbow bump. I'm not sure what the reason for this special handshake is. I don't see any reason to fear germs out here, we're all sweaty and dirty. The trail dropped steeply down to Walker Pass at the 178 and its windy campground, where the three of us found a yellow bag hanging on a tree next to the spot we were going to set up. Upon further inspection, we discovered a bounty of Twix and Nature Valley bars inside, as well as a roll of toilet paper! It was one of the most exciting moments of our entire lives, and, unfortunately, that really might not be that crazy of an exaggeration. We ate all of the candy bars except for one, which I meant to grab the next morning, and the toilet paper, which we did not need. We had discussed the source of this bag in length, and ultimately figured it was left by a previous day camper, it was too publicly located to be a hiker cache. The wind made it quite difficult to set down our tents, even in a designated camping area.
On Saturday morning we reached Walker Pass at HWY 178 and started climbing again, right by the pass monuments. The climb was well designed, 1800 feet over eight miles. Upon reaching the crest of the first ridge, we were met with a vast view of Inyokern, China Lakes, and Ridgecrest below. The trail snaked around the east side of Mt. Jenkins, rising up into some fast moving mist. The trail turned rocky and the features of the other, non-windswept side of the mountain were jagged. I came upon a European man named Marco who was trying to climb Jenkins, but climbed the wrong peak in all of the fog. I chatted with him right around the corner from where Lone Walker was resting. Marco asked if he was one of my hiking partners, and I said we were just on the same patch of trail. Lone Walker and I exchanged some brief pleasantries as I passed, and I heard Marco attempt to start a conversation and fail as I ascended further into the mist. The Jenkins Peak/Owens Peak saddle is at 7020 feet, after which there is a decent descent down to the next water source. While crossing the valley later in the day, headed for our late afternoon climb, I crossed paths with Lone Walker, who was, curiously, walking South on the trail. I had not left the trail all day, and had not seen him pass me since we were up on Mt. Jenkins. This seemingly impossible occurrence actually gave me the chance to talk to Lone Walker longer than I ever had before.
"Where you going? Turning around?" I asked.
"Don't wan' camp o'er there. Too windy."
"Understandable. See you tomorrow probably!"
"Figure."
It was like riding a bucking bronco. You know it won't last long, so you're just grateful for every second you get. Chris, Ryan, and I filtered some more water before our climb, an 1800 foot affair that I tried to race Chris up, but even with a head start he overtook me handily. There's no beating that guy when his competitive juices get flowing. We camped on the ridge that night and were pelted by a mild ice storm.
The next day we could reach Kennedy Meadows in roughly 22 miles. Lone Walker passed by our campsite right before we left, commenting, "You camped here?" in his barely audible, characteristic tone. We dropped down the ridge and traversed a canyon until we reached Canebrake Road, after which the trail started a gentle ascent back up to 8000 feet. During the climb my 'piriformus' (Ryan knew the name of this muscle, it's the one that runs up your leg to your back, and is located essentially in your buttcheek.) spasmed very painfully bringing me to a halt. I was already a ways behind the others. I took a couple steps but it kept grabbing, so I was only stumbling painfully along. I sat down and stretched it out for a little bit, hoping that would do the trick, but within twenty more steps of climbing I was in pain again, and laid down in the middle of the trail, rather defeated. At just that time, Lone Walker came upon me. Without breaking stride, he asked, "You 'kay?" as I rolled over to allow him space. "Yes," I said, "just resting." I hung out for awhile in that spot, and then got up to try and see if my butt worked again. It didn't, so I clenched the complaining muscle as hard as I could with my left hand, held both of my poles in my right, and forced my way up the hill. The P.C.T. is not glamorous, and a picture of a man limping up a mountain with one hand firmly clenched to his ass would make a much more appropriate and descriptive logo. At the top of the saddle I let my hand loose of my buttcheek, and realized that I had somehow massaged the muscle back into some sort of functioning state. The drop into Kennedy Meadows was beautiful, following a dry canyon with far off Dome Wilderness shining in the distance. You could spot the Kern River snaking through the valley by its glinting. The sun was starting to fall between two mountains as we did another three miles through the Meadows area.
Our guides said that we would have to cross the Kern River in order to reach the Kennedy Meadows General Store and town. Fortunately, the trail had been rerouted to head more directly towards the spattering suggestion of civilization we were headed for, because the river was looking quite fast and uninviting. We strolled in close to 11 AM, quickly meeting all of the locals and resident hikers, all of whom asked us if we had seen a character named "Tiny Dancer." We hadn't. No one had seen our supply box either, so we were at a stalemate for now... To be continued.
