The morning was cast in shades of blue and pink while the moon still had jurisdiction over the sky. I could see the outlines of San Jacinto Peak and the impressive valley down below whenever I turned around to see how far I’d come. The air was chilly and there were some dark, ominous clouds rolling in. The forest was eerily silent. I didn’t hear the usual bird chirps, only the caws of a few crows. As I walked on, I wondered if I was about to become a victim in a Brothers Grimm tale.
The silence was indication enough that a storm was brewing. As the day progressed, the thick, dark clouds had truly overtaken the sky. I knew it was only a matter of time before it would start to rain, so I set up my tent and put everything inside. As I stepped inside and finished zipping the door closed, I heard tap, tap, tap. The timing was impeccable, the rain had begun! Although… it wasn’t rain – it was hail?! Small, rounded ice pellets slammed into my tent fly. I was surprised to see hail in the middle of June, but I guess anything’s possible in the mountains! I was so grateful to be in the warm cozy confines of my sleeping bag, sheltered from the storm outside. My thoughts went out to Brightside and Marla who were still out hiking in this weather.
Brightside and Marla eventually caught up to where I was stationed. They set up their tents near mine so we could converse through our tent walls. We bubbled with laughter and talked about anything and everything. I tried to immerse myself in the present and soak up every bit of joy from these wonderful moments with my friends. It was bittersweet, since this would be the last time we’d be on trail together. After tonight, we’d be in Big Bear where Marla was meeting her best friend to either continue hiking or skip ahead to a different section of trail and Brightside was headed off to hike in northern California. I’d soon be left to continue on alone.
The last 10 miles leading to Big Bear were strange. The
temperature underwent a huge fluctuation from chatteringly cold to sweatingly
hot in the span of three hours. As I walked, I stumbled upon a perfectly halved
rabbit – what kind of predator leaves half of its prey? I couldn’t help but
wonder if that was some sort of omen. Not long after I saw a big-eared hare
dashing through the shrubs.
As I continued on, I was caught off guard by a strange, loud snorting sound. I stopped to look around but no one else was there. After another sound, I spotted the culprit 30 m from where I stood – it was a donkey! It was roaming around on its own. As I continued hiking, I half expected someone to come running up the trail, exasperated, with a rope and halter. But no one ever did. I later discovered that there’s actually a huge wild donkey population in the Big Bear area due to the gold mining boom that occurred here in 1860-1875. After the gold had been mined, the donkeys were abandoned, or escaped, and became a wild population. They also escaped from several other activities in the area, such as movie sets and fox farms. Nowadays, they’re somewhat of a nuisance to the people who live here because herds of them will roam through the suburbs and tear through people’s garbage, kind of like big, menacing raccoons.
Brightside and I spent the next day and a half at Kenny’s place. Kenny is a trail angel who opens his home to hikers. Despite the entire front of his house being painted in big letters with “Trump 2024”, he’s a wonderful, kind man and a great cook! The house was bustling with hikers coming in and out. I was happily surprised to be reunited with a couple hikers I’d seen on trail so far: Callie, Anishka, Baxter, Fixit, and Tiger Lilly, and a few new faces: Chardonnay, Frogma, Groceries, and Whatever. It was a great vibe! I even played my first-ever game of Chinese checkers.
I had my fill of burgers and apple juice (which I’d been terribly craving for the last few days) at the local pub named Kallan’s. On one occasion, there was live music comprised of an older man with a grey beard playing an acoustic version of Britney Spears’ Oops!…I Did it Again. It couldn’t get any more small-town-American than this!
The time had finally come for Brightside and I to part ways. She was catching an early bus headed north and I was hopping back on trail. We hugged and said our goodbyes. I was sad to see her go but excited for her new adventure! This was going to be the first time I’d officially be alone on trail, despite coming into this adventure with the expectation that I would be alone. It felt strange. All of a sudden there was no one else to deliberate how many miles we should do or someone to commiserate or laugh with. The joyous nature of hiking took on a more serious tone. It’s just me now.
After having descended from the nice pine forests, the landscape was once again comprised of mostly boulders, shrubs, arid hills, and some sparse trees. It felt plain, as if invoking pathetic fallacy now that Brightside was gone. I squeezed through plenty of spiky shrubs and manzanita bushes that were growing unchecked over the trail.
On one morning, I started hiking at 5:50am with my first goal of the day being to fill up on water. I reached a stream about 30 mins later which looked decent despite some algae. But before I could even to take my pack off to rummage through for my water filter, it hit me… the smell of a dead animal. With a renewed sense of observation, I looked around to find that right before my eyes lay a fresh deer carcass! I had overlooked it the first time because it was camouflaged so well into the surrounding rocks. From where I stood, I could see its fully exposed rib cage, it had been entirely gutted. The fresh blood dripped into the stream – so much for this water source! I suddenly became very aware of my surroundings knowing that by the looks of this fresh kill, the predator likely still lurked in the vicinity. I quickly continued hiking, not wanting to be the next victim in line.
Later that day I made it to Silverwood Lake, its fresh lake air having beckoned me from miles away. It was an oasis – so much green and blue after so much scarcity and sand. People were zooming around on boats and seadoos. They were frying up hamburger and hot dogs – the typical fanfare for an American long weekend. The deliciously enticing smells drifted over to where I sat with my ramen. Oh what I would pay for a hamburger right now! It was a grand juxtaposition between an American life of excess and a starving deer-carcass-conquering hiker.
