PCT Stage 03: Idyllwild to Big Bear Lake

Hello everyone! How are you doing? Thank you so much for visiting this little virtual corner where I’m sharing my experience on the Pacific Crest Trail in 2024.

In my previous post, “PCT Stage 02: Julian to Idyllwild,” I told you about how I arrived in the city of Idyllwild. If you remember, that arrival was filled with stumbles and physical issues, which even made me think that this six-month adventure might be too much for me. It might still be! But here I am, still pushing through.

Idyllwild Campground

At 8 am, the campground rangers arrived, and I needed to register to stay there. One of the rangers was Mexican, and when he saw that I was Uruguayan, we had a lovely chat in Spanish. I had really missed speaking my native language and not having to think so much about my words. After registering, I set up my tent and collapsed inside for a moment.

The campsite was beautiful and had everything I needed at the time: comfortable bathrooms, a shower, and places to cook. The weather was hot, unlike the mountain, which was very cold.

In my previous post, PCT Stage 02: Julian to Idyllwild, I mentioned having a few pending conversations to address the issues I was facing on the trail. These conversations were vital to me because, although taking a zero day had helped me continue, the physical and mental symptoms persisted. It was only a matter of time before the little devil whispering “quit” in my ear appeared again.

Pain in the shin

I had a sharp pain in my shin whenever I lifted the tip of my foot. This pain worried me because it was something entirely new to me. I spoke with Matias Rivero, a physical education teacher specializing in human mobility, with whom I had the pleasure of taking classes in Uruguay. We exchanged audio messages and photos, showing him the painful area and the movements that caused the pain. He told me it was probably an overload in the tendinous area of my calf, which is very common among trail runners who spend a lot of time running on downhill terrains.

I immediately remembered that on downhill terrains, I would let my body go as if I were jogging. I usually did this during my treks, but on the PCT, I was walking for more than twice the amount of time each day compared to any of my previous treks. This helped me identify the problem, and at least I now knew the cause, which had been my biggest concern.

Matias told me to rest for a few days, take anti-inflammatory medicine, and do some exercises. The exercises involved keeping my foot under tension by lifting the tip of my foot. The pain should only reach a 3 on a scale of 1 to 10. After that, I could do some stretches for the area. For example, I could kneel and sit back on my heels.

Because of my knee problems mentioned in my previous post, “My Broken Tower,” I was used to dealing with tendinitis in my knee. So, I applied that treatment to my shin. I was pleased with the diagnosis; it seemed very accurate based on my symptoms. This helped me feel more at ease and regain some confidence.

The root of the problems

What better way to talk about my problems on the trail than with someone who had already done a thru-hike and had been involved in competitive sports from a young age? In this case, Roadrunner asked Coyote for help. Coyote suggested having a video call.

It seems incredible to have reached this level of connection with someone I have never met in person. We only communicated through social media while she was on the crazy adventure of the PCT. We had a video call that lasted about two hours. It was clear that Romi wanted to help me achieve my dream.

I told her everything that had been happening to me, like how in the last two days, my body was breaking down, and my mind was falling apart. I told her this usually happened after walking for 2 or 3 hours. Coyote seemed to sniff out the problem and, like a skilled animal at finding flaws, said, “Let’s see, Dieguito, show me what you’re eating.”

My food on the trail

I won’t bore you with the details of everything we discussed about my poor nutrition on the trail. During my shorter treks, I ate similar foods to those I was using on the PCT. However, it’s clear that you can’t eat the same on a two-week trek with six hours of walking daily as on a six-month trek with twelve hours of walking daily.

Romi gave me a master class on nutrition, explaining each of the food groups I needed to cover and why. Besides being a thru-hiker, she also has her own mountain food business. @kupalfoods. Her idea to start such an ambitious and challenging project, like venturing into the world of nutrition for a demanding audience with many needs, began to take shape during her PCT hike in 2020. Talking with her, it’s clear how much time and research she put into launching that business. Her dedication and determination are enviable qualities of my friend Coyote.

From our video call it emerged that my biggest mistakes were:

• Not consuming carbohydrates at lunch prevented my body from getting the energy it needed to keep walking throughout the day.
• Not consuming snacks, particularly simple sugars, every hour prevented my body from maintaining the correct sugar level. The demands of long trekking days could have led my body to hypoglycemic levels, consistent with my coordination and mental issues.
• Not consuming electrolytes meant that on long, hot days, I sweated a lot on the trail, losing salts and water. Talking with Romi, I remembered my blue shirt that in the desert ended up with white streaks. That had never happened to me before!

Looking for the solution

Romina gave me a guideline on how many carbohydrates, proteins, and fats I should consume per day. For my engineering-minded brain, that was fantastic. I just had to go to the supermarket and find the items that would solve the equation Romina had given me. On one hand, there was my satisfaction with the food I liked, on the other hand, the cost of that food, which is very high here, and finally, all of it restricted to the simple list she gave me. Probably, many people reading this will realize that I’m a bit of a nerd, and in my head, I had framed it as an optimization problem 😅.

I’m sharing this because I believe everyone has their own way of understanding things that happen to them and finding solutions. For me, I struggle a lot with the “understanding” phase; it takes time and effort. But once I overcome it, I’m good at solving problems and applying them to other situations. This is how I learn. I often criticize myself for being slow to understand, but now, with this PCT experience, I’m realizing I need to accept myself for who I am. It’s not easy, but I think I’ll get there; we’ll see as the months pass on this adventure.

Returning to my present

After concluding the discussions with Matias and Romina, I found myself alone again at the Idyllwild Campground. My general feeling was concern. I worried about the potential harm to my body and how long it might take to recover. My plan was to enjoy the zero day, eat plenty, and then “Try again,” as my mantra goes. This “try again” had to be more gradual to allow my body to recover in the process.

Touring  Idyllwild

After the discussions, I was ready to start my rest day in the city of Idyllwild.

Laundry time

The first and most important thing was to take a shower and do laundry. Here, it’s very common to find places with many washing machines, where you bring whatever you want to wash, just like in the movies. It’s all practically automated; you put coins in the washing machines, buy soap as well, and then wait. These waiting times make these places conducive to chatting with other people. So much so that they all have vending machines for drinks and food, TV, etc. Idyllwild is a small town, which only has one of these laundromats, so it was full of hikers with their dirty clothes.

There’s even a bin with forgotten clothes that you can wear to wash what you have on. I found this nice T-shirt featuring a dog in the mountains, a striking design mainly because the shirt said “Idyllwild,” as if the dog were an important part of the local culture here.

Here, I ran into my two friends, High Five and Expendable, who helped me understand how the machines worked. One of my problems was that I didn’t have any coins, but they showed me that there were coin vending machines. I went to the machine with a $20 bill, without thinking twice I inserted it, and the result was 80 coins, when I only needed about 10. Those 70 extra coins are weight I’m still carrying around, lol. I told them about my mistake of getting off in the city the previous day, as I mentioned in my previous post, PCT Stage 02: Julian to Idyllwild. We laughed a lot. High Five jokingly said, “You went through all that just to try to catch up with this old guy’s speed.”

Idyllwild streets

Walking the streets of the city is something I’ve always enjoyed. You see the people, the architecture, and the city’s rhythm. In the case of Idyllwild, it is immediately noticeable that it is a small town, mostly residential, nestled in a forest of tall trees at the foot of a mountain. The most prominent mountain there is Mt. San Jacinto, which is clearly visible from the PCT, with its snow-covered summit. Since it’s a small town and the PCT attracts thousands of people, it was filled with hikers everywhere.

Tiempo de reencuentro

On this walk, I ran into Josefina, a hiker I had met during my toughest moments on the trail, the day I had to reach the famous Saddle Junction.

I remember that day I was lying just a few inches from the trail, eating my lunch. In my mind, I was debating whether taking a zero day in Idyllwild would help me recover. At that moment, Josefina arrived and sat on a log near me to take off her microspikes. We chatted for a while, and she seemed to notice that I wasn’t doing well. She asked me what was wrong, and I told her about my physical and mental struggles. She mentioned that she also had problems with her foot and was planning to take two zero days in Idyllwild. I then shared that I was considering taking my zero day there, precisely because I felt I wasn’t doing well, but I didn’t want to use up my zero days so quickly. She asked me when I had started the PCT, to which I replied, April 11th. She laughed and said, “You’re going very fast; you can take a zero day without any problem.”

After that brief encounter on the mountain, we met again in Idyllwild, both looking for a place to eat. We decided to go together to a Mexican restaurant a few blocks away and continue talking about our ailments. I told her what I had discussed with Matias and Romina, and she mentioned that she had scheduled an appointment with a physiotherapist in town because her foot was not doing well. That’s when I started to realize that her problem was more serious than mine, yet she never lost her smile.

Mayor Max

We finished eating, paid, and left the restaurant. On the way to the town center, Josefina said excitedly, “Ahhhh, Mayor Max will be near the central plaza now. Shall we go see him?”

It was more of a statement than a question, something we had to do. I was curious—what’s so special about seeing the mayor of a city? Besides, Josefina is Swedish; what connection could she have with the mayor of a tiny American town? I replied, “Uh, sure,” sounding more uncertain than confident.

She asked, “But, don’t you want to meet him?” to which I responded, “But, who is Mayor Max?” Laughing, she said, “He’s the town’s mayor and the dog on your shirt.”

What can I say… The United States had been surprising me a lot, but a dog being the mayor of a town was just too crazy 🤣. Of course, we went to see Mayor Max, and it turned out to be a much more popular event than I had expected. The whole town was there, waiting for a pickup truck to arrive with four Golden Retrievers, the Max dynasty that had been governing the town for years.

It was truly something beautiful, seeing the people so happy at this event. Even though my rigid mindset didn’t understand it at first, I got it after seeing everyone’s joy. The truth is, the Max dynasty was very protective of its power, barking incessantly at any other dog that passed by, to the point where they had to leave.

Even my friend, Old Speedy High Five, was at the event. In the end, it was a day I enjoyed immensely, but like everything in life, it had to come to an end. Now my focus was on continuing to Big Bear Lake, while trying to take care of my body to recover everything I had lost.

Saddle Junction Again

In my country, there’s a popular saying parents tell their kids: “Don’t like the soup? Have two servings.” Well, that’s exactly how I felt as I embarked on my return journey to Devil Slide, to reach Saddle Junction.

It was a climb of no more than 2 hours, but for someone who was worried and even a little scared by the damage done to their body in the previous days, it was an interesting challenge. On that path, I remember meditating on every step, trying to listen to what my body was telling me about the effort I was exerting. That day, I walked with three hikers; I’m terrible with names and don’t remember theirs. Two of them were a couple, and a third joined us. None of them were going to summit Mt. San Jacinto, so we couldn’t coordinate plans for the next day.

I stayed to camp at the junction to Mt. San Jacinto, while they continued with their plan to reach a campsite called Strawberry. I remember I dubbed them the Strawberry team; we laughed for a while about that name.

I camped literally on a small patch of snow-free ground in that area. It was on a slope, which caused all my belongings to end up on one side of the tent. But at least it wasn’t on the snow.

Among Romi’s recommendations, she mentioned that potatoes have many properties and are a great source of carbohydrates. I got myself some packets of mashed potatoes to add to my meals. Honestly, I loved them. Just boil half a liter of water and stir! The taste was excellent! I was very happy with that purchase.

MT San Jacinto

The plan for the summit was to start at 2 a.m. The reason was simple: the snow would be firm, making it easier to move when the terrain was either uphill or level. Being surrounded by snow and with the tent set up on a significant slope, the alarm going off was a blessing. I hadn’t slept much, but I had eaten a lot. I hoped that would help.

I was still very unsure of myself; I didn’t know if I could ask my body to climb that mountain. Fortunately, another person appeared in the shadows, heading towards the summit.

His name is Nick, he’s from England, and he was doing the PCT with a friend who didn’t want to summit Mt. San Jacinto. Meeting new people and teaming up with them to tackle difficult parts of the trail is something spectacular about this experience. In those moments, you share a small part of your story with others, and the diversity of stories is truly incredible.

In Nick’s case, he is looking for a change in his daily life. He wants a different kind of job; he has an office job but wants something that keeps him more active and outside more often. I think this is something that will be challenging for all of us experiencing this. We are literally spending all day in nature, and going back to being indoors will be difficult.

Navigate without visual

Navigating a trail without visual guidance is a challenging task. During my mountaineering course, I learned that this is one of the most common and significant risk factors that lead to hikers encountering difficulties or even abandoning their expeditions. I knew this would be a demanding endeavor for me, considering it was my first night hiking on the PCT, my body was weakened, and the snow cover obscured the trail, forcing us to follow footprints or markers instead.

Nick expressed his concerns about navigating the trail. He had previously hiked with a highly experienced hiker who typically took the lead in navigation. Given my physical condition and my tendency to underestimate my abilities, I suggested that Nick lead the way while I followed and provided support.

We began our hike smoothly, encountering several tents set up by fellow hikers further along the ascending trail to Mount San Jacinto. We also came across water sources marked on the FarOut app. However, I noticed that we were gradually losing elevation, which raised my concern. I alerted Nick, and he assured me that he was following a clear trail of footprints.

GPS adjust

We pressed on, but I grew increasingly aware that we were losing elevation, which was concerning since our objective was a summit without any intervening valleys. I halted and launched Guru Maps, the navigation app I had used in my mountaineering course. I requested Nick to pause while I calibrated our position.

A frequent error when using a GPS device is to activate it while stationary and assume the displayed map point represents your accurate location. The system exhibits a substantial margin of error when initiated while static. Movement is necessary for the system to refine its accuracy and provide a more precise positioning.

The adjustment

Upon completing the position adjustment, I discovered that we were 50 meters lower than our intended location. I looked up to inform Nick, but he had vanished. While I was engrossed in these adjustments, Nick had continued his ascent. I caught a glimpse of his headlamp’s beam even farther down, beckoning him like a moth towards the city lights of Palm Springs. I called out to him:

• “Nick, I’m not sure this is the right way.” I was convinced we were headed in the wrong direction, but my tendency to doubt myself led me to say, “I’m not sure,” which isn’t exactly a reassuring statement for a fellow hiker.
• He responds, “Oh, yes, this is it. I see more footprints, follow me.”
• “Hold on, I’m coming,” I reply.

My hiking speed was considerably slower than Nick’s. I found it challenging to descend in the snow and couldn’t make out a clear path under the illumination of his headlamp. When I arrived at his location, we were 150 meters below the intended trail. I informed him, “Nick, we’re significantly below where we should be.” He responded, “Look, there are footprints.” Indeed, there were footprints leading further downhill, but that was not the direction we were supposed to head.

The orientación course

In that moment, I recalled azimutrek and my mountaineering course once again. Our actions exemplified one of the many scenarios I had studied, where the desperate pursuit of progress only leads to further disorientation. I showed Nick what I had seen on the map and requested him to follow me, despite my slow pace.

I applied the technique I had learned in the orientation section of my course, known as “What is my next stop line?”. In this case, the stop line was the contour line 150 meters above us, where the trail should be. I set that altitude on my watch’s altimeter, and we began to search for a way to ascend through the snow.

After a while and several slips, we stumbled upon a series of footprints leading to the summit of Mount San Jacinto.

The sunrise

Our original plan was to reach the summit before sunrise, a goal that, well, let’s just say it didn’t quite materialize.

As the sun’s rays pierced the darkness, the landscape unveiled a breathtaking transformation. The snow, once a luminous white under the veil of night, now shimmered with a delicate, rosy tint. The avian chorus intensified, filling the air with a harmonious melody as nature welcomed the sun and the embrace of a new day.

The shelter

The first structure to catch our eye was the hut, nestled just below the peak. One side of it was partially concealed by snow, a testament to the relentless winter snowfall that undoubtedly transformed it into a snow-laden haven during the colder months.

We stashed our backpacks at the hut, eager to shed the extra weight and navigate the terrain with newfound agility.

The interior of the hut was surprisingly clean and well-maintained. It was a classic mountain refuge, its walls constructed from thick stone and sturdy wooden beams supporting the bunks and rafters. These structures were designed to provide shelter to mountaineers braving the harshest conditions. However, it was evident that the San Jacinto hut was more frequented by “tourists” than seasoned climbers. After this brief exploration of the hut’s interior, we set off for the summit.

The summit

After a short ascent, we reached the summit, and to our astonishment, we were greeted by a panorama that surpassed all our expectations.

Sea of clouds

On the other side of the mountain, an expansive sea of clouds was trapped, unable to breach the formidable barrier. In our daily lives, we witness skies that are either overcast or clear, with occasional patches of clouds, but never do we encounter a physical obstruction that halts their progress. Witnessing such natural phenomena leaves us awestruck, our minds struggling to grasp the sheer scale and power of the forces at play. In the distance, the peaks of other mountains emerged, serving as tangible evidence of the vast expanse of this fluffy cloud sea, confined by the imposing San Francisco mountain range.

The stark contrast between the two sides was breathtaking. On one side, we were perched above a sea of clouds, while on the other, we could clearly see the world below. In the desert landscape, a wind farm whirred to life, its turbines slicing through the sand-laden air. The swirling grains of sand made the wind’s movement visible, a spectacle rarely witnessed. It was another of the magical and unique sights that graced us that morning on Mount San Jacinto.

My helpers

On the top of Mount San Jacinto I decided record a video to my helpers, and I wanted to take a moment to express my deepest gratitude to the three people who helped me make this incredible journey possible.

• My rock, Caro, believed in me even when I didn’t. Our phone chats helped me realize my diet needed work, and her support fueled my climb.
• Matias Rivero’s expertise helped me understand my calf pain, likely caused by the intensity of the downhill trails.
• Finally, I want to express my deepest gratitude to my amazing friend Romina Mena, better known as Coyote. Romina, your presence throughout this entire adventure has been a constant source of reassurance and guidance. Your ability to keep me calm and focused, even in the face of challenges, was invaluable. At the same time, you weren’t afraid to point out my mistakes, which ultimately helped me learn and grow as a hiker. Your unwavering support and constructive criticism were instrumental in my successful summit. Thank you, Romina, for being a true friend and a vital part of this incredible journey

The farewell

With the summit of Mount San Jacinto conquered, we embarked on our descent, determined to explore a new trail rather than retracing our steps along the PCT. We had been warned of the dangers of this route due to its exposed nature, but having set off early in the morning with the snow still firm, we found the descent to be less treacherous than anticipated. The slope wasn’t steep enough to compromise the traction of our microspikes, preventing slips and falls.

After completing this challenging descent, we bid farewell to our hiking companion Nick, who had outpaced us due to his superior fitness. Feeling cautious about my own physical condition, I opted for a slower pace, carefully listening to my body’s signals. This deliberate approach allowed me to appreciate the beauty of the surroundings and savor the final leg of our adventure.

A Snowy Encounter and a Glimpse of Familiar Trails

As we continued our descent, the snow cover grew increasingly thick, obscuring the PCT trail markers. Amidst this snowy expanse, I spotted a sign indicating the Strawberry Campground, a name that immediately brought back memories of the three hikers who had accompanied me on the ascent the previous day. I couldn’t help but wonder if they were far ahead on the trail, perhaps destined to cross paths with us again. The PCT has a way of weaving these serendipitous encounters, transforming the trail into a tapestry of shared experiences. The joy of reconnecting with fellow hikers and exchanging tales of our adventures is a unique and cherished aspect of backpacking.

Going down to the desert

After 14.5 hours of trekking, I completed a 31-kilometer (19-mile) hike with a total elevation gain of 900 meters (2,953 feet). This day’s pace was significantly slower than my previous averages, as I covered 10 kilometers (6 miles) less in the same amount of time. This was due to a combination of factors: my conscious effort to avoid overexertion and the added challenge of navigating through the snow.

Despite the slower pace, I was immensely satisfied with my accomplishment. Reaching the summit was a testament to my perseverance and resilience, and I felt remarkably well afterward, with minimal fatigue and soreness. The day’s challenges served as a reminder of the importance of listening to my body and adapting my pace to the conditions at hand.

On the way to Whitewater Preserve 

The next morning, I had to continue descending until I reached the I-10 freeway and continued my journey to Big Bear. That morning, I was a bit worried about the food I had. I was running low on carbohydrates for the lunches I needed before reaching Big Bear. My plan was to get to I-10 and go to Cabazon to stock up on some food.

On that descent, I came across something that filled me with joy! My second milestone of hundreds! I had reached 200 miles on my 13th day on the trail. No matter how slowly I was moving, I was still making progress, and I realized how important every little step was.

I was pleasantly surprised by the desert’s blooming. Despite the dry, harsh, and sandy environment, a lot of life thrived in its corners.

Once I reached the valley, I could see the power transmission lines responsible for transporting the energy generated by the wind turbines. It was incredible to have gone from seeing them from high above to now having them practically beside me in just two days.

But not everything was rosy, as we say in my country, meaning that not everything was beautiful.

The harshness of the desert 

In that desert, I experienced another facet of it—monotonous, without flowers. The ground was so soft that each step required a great deal of effort to move forward.

It reminded me of the first times I played beach volleyball. In those initial attempts, I tried to use my usual indoor volleyball power. Nothing could have been more wrong. Beach volleyball is a different sport; if you try to use the same energy, you only end up sinking and exhausting yourself infinitely. The sand grips you, slows you down, and consumes you.

Here, it was the same. You have to be different in this type of terrain when trekking. Seek out the firmer areas and avoid planting your feet deeply to take a faster step; you’ll only sink more. I fought with this terrain for a long time—probably no more than an hour, but the exhaustion felt like much longer.

The magic

This was one of the hardest parts of the PCT for me. My mind couldn’t detach from the effort of taking each step. The heat was suffocating, the dust was drying, and the monotony was boring. In short, there was nothing in the landscape to help you keep going. Approaching the passage under I-10, the scenery didn’t improve; the trail became unkempt, rough, and heavy.

But as the PCT had insisted on showing me in these 14 days, the trail provides, and that is magical.

Mamma Bear

The trail provides, and this time it provided magic.

A lady stopped me on the road and said, “If you want to go to Cabazon, hitchhiking on the road is prohibited.” Initially, her comment seemed quite harsh and unfriendly. But this time, my first impression was entirely wrong—this lady wanted to help me. She called herself Mamma Bear and is a trail angel.

She asked us to help her set up the table, and I use “us” because by that time, Nick had also arrived at the crossing under I-10. Don’t ask me when I passed him, but it was clear that my legs were recovering at a rapid pace.

 

We ate, chatted, and shared stories. The woman in charge of the trail magic was named Mamma Bear. She had an impressive story—she found joy again by helping Thru Hikers for over 7 years. Why do I say she found joy again? Because trail magic was her way of coping with the loss of her husband.

She could have used her money to go on vacations or indulge in material pleasures, but instead, she found satisfaction in using it to help hikers. Perhaps it was because her husband always wanted to hike the PCT, and this was her way of honoring his memory. But the reality is, she was doing it and made each hiker feel like her own child.

Don’t give up

Mamma Bear gave me the extra days of food I needed to continue my journey to Big Bear, and she also gave me something very special.

A small plaque inscribed with “Never, never give up.” Instantly, a chill ran down my neck, my eyes welled up, and my heart raced. My mantra, which I mentioned in my previous post, “ Don’t give up” had materialized. 

This happened at a moment when I was exhausted, deeply concerned about my body’s condition due to insufficient nutrition, and grappling with multiple bodily pains. I simply couldn’t believe it.

The magic of the PCT had appeared to tell me to keep going. Diego, you still have a long way to go, much more than just reaching Canada on foot, which is your deeper and larger goal.

Last Pull to Whitewater Preserve 

That day, many hikers had talked about Whitewater Preserve as a green oasis in the desert, highly recommended and comfortable for camping. With the supplies Mamma Bear gave me, I could attempt to reach it.

I started the ascent from I-10, and when I turned around, this was the sight before me.

It was a perfect landscape, a summary of what my previous two days had been. Mt. San Jacinto towering above the clouds, with wind turbines in the background. With this magnificence, I continued on my way.

Arriving to the preserve

After several more hours of walking, I reached my goal. A stone with an inscription by John Muir welcomed me.

Another scene that seemed staged on purpose, but was actually there, I just had to photograph it. I remembered my photography teacher who always used to say, “The Uruguayasis lucky; whenever they’re walking around, magical scenes appear, and they have the ability to capture them.”

The reserve was a dreamlike place! It was absolutely beautiful and well-maintained. We had tables, bathrooms, and beautiful green grass—everything was spectacular. They say it’s an oasis in the desert, and rightly so.

The day ended—another successful day filled with signs, messages, and images. But it doesn’t end here. The next day, we had to face terrain affected by landslides. Mission Creek was coming up, a true mission for us.

Mission Creek

PCTA extract:

The PCT through Whitewater and Mission Creek drainages was significantly damaged by Tropical Storm Hilary in August 2023.

Many people have turned around due to landslides and cliffs blocking the trail. Other people have reported very challenging conditions.

The PCT runs through both river bottoms and is essentially fully destroyed in those places.

The connector trail between the PCT and Whitewater Preserve is also destroyed. Damage includes multiple steep cliff faces, and the riverbed trail is now a boulder and debris field. Additionally, there is no stone staircase or footbridge across the river.

With that message, I started the day. For the next two days, I had to venture into this area and find a safe way to traverse a zone that had been seriously damaged. I had already seen part of it upon arriving at Whitewater Preserve, where I had to walk without a trail through an area of loose rocks and water.

That day, I started walking with three other hikers. It was very difficult for me to keep up with their pace. Although I had walked a lot in the previous days, I did so at a slower pace to avoid straining my body. I began to go a bit slower and told my companions that I would meet them at the final camp, which was about 27 km away. A new challenge was beginning, and things were about to get complicated!

Backpack broken

I took off my backpack to go to the bathroom. When I returned and tried to put it back on, the buckle of the backpack strap completely broke. In that instant, my mind went blank. I sank into a dark and desperate place in the depths of my mind, a place I find incredibly hard to escape from. What do I do without a backpack strap?

“Think, Diego, think,” I told myself.

I remembered that I had zip ties in my backpack. I essentially made a new buckle with several zip ties and tied the strap to reduce the tension on them. I needed my backpack to make it to Big Bear. I was in the middle of nowhere, in a section the PCTA said would be very tough.

I climbed a ridge along the trail where I had a spectacular view of Mt. San Jacinto, getting farther away and always surrounded by clouds. From there, I got a signal on my cell phone and was able to call Osprey. Their warranty service is excellent. I managed to arrange for a new backpack to be sent to a retailer they have in Big Bear Lake in four days.

You can do it

Having managed to arrange that, my mind calmed down, and I could return to the reality of what was happening to me. The backpack problem had simplified—I just needed to make it to the city however I could.

Nature creates these landscapes, landscapes that are hard to comprehend when you’re there. How can such a large tree stand within that sea of rocks? Curious landscapes that end up being a picture that tells the history of that place, allowing one to dream of the diverse scenery that wooden friend must have seen.

The first day in Mission Creek had ended. I met my hiker friends at the camp, and we discussed how to face the next day.

The ridge alternate

We decided to take an alternative route, which we didn’t have on our phones but would allow us to safely pass through the most critical part of Mission Creek. The plan was to take a ridge and climb a steep 500 meters in elevation. I say steep because the PCT usually has more gradual elevation changes.

At night, I took my phone with my navigation app and marked waypoints on the ridge where I believed we should ascend. This was very helpful for me since I would probably be doing that part alone due to my slower pace.

I did it! I completed the climb in 1 hour and 30 minutes and was very happy. Happy to have accomplished it, happy to have used the knowledge I gained in Azimutrek, and above all, happy because my pains were subsiding. I was making progress, actively recovering my body. To top off the day, I had an unexpected reunion on the descent.

The reunion

 

I met Josefina! She had skipped a part of the PCT due to a foot issue and wanted to take care of herself. I was very happy to meet her, so much so that I decided to camp there, and tomorrow we would go together to Big Bear.

We had done it! We had departed from Idyllwild and arrived at Big Bear. Both of us had physical pains, of different kinds, but pains nonetheless.Personally, I was thrilled to have managed to recover my body while continuing to progress on the trail. It was the realization that I had correctly understood how to solve the problems I had faced in the previous section, as I mentioned in my previous post.

The ending

I’m incredibly grateful to have you here, reading my posts. I know there’s a bit of time between each one, but I’m committed to improving with every update. I hope you’ll continue joining me on this journey because there are breathtaking sections ahead, filled with incredible photos. In my next post, I’ll share the highlights from Big Bear and my trek towards Wrightwood. Stay tuned—I can’t wait to share more with you. Thank you so much for being a part of this adventure!