Sand and Sand

When I chew on my couscous dinners at night, sand crunches between my teeth. My camera lens grinds when I shut it because of sand. If I take my earbuds out of my ears after listening to music, they are covered in sand. Sand is everywhere.

The high desert is an amazingly varied place. I have come to the realization that every canyon has it's own character. Yesterday after leaving Cajon Pass, hiking through the San Andreas Rift Region then through the freakish Mormon Rocks, I saw the greenest canyon I've seen yet. I didn't think much water ran through the area, but there were actually trees on the side of this low elevation canyon. After climbing about 1000 feet, and snaking around to the other side of the mountain, it was all sparse chapperal. Fun. I climbed uphill for hours, finally reached a jeep road and cooked dinner over my woodstove. The plan was to hike another mile or so to find a nice soft spot with pine needles for cushion since I'm using a really thin sleeping pad, but plans never stick with me. I got inspired out of nowhere and decided to nighthike all the way to the road crossing where I"d hitch into this town, Wrightwood. That was 12 miles, a fullish moon at Waxing Gibbous, and no need for a headlamp to see ahead of me. The hiking was slightly sketchy, nearly losing the trail at a few road crossings and at a strange ski resort, finally making it to the road to sleep at 1 am. I slept on the side of the road, which receives no traffic at night. I woke up 5 hrs later to an awesome sunrise over Mt Balden-Powell, which still has lots and lots of snow. I'll be climbing up this tomorrow, hopefully to the peak to get a view of Death Valley, miles and miles away. Now it's time to find one of the local trail angels who take in hikers, for a MUCH needed laundry session. Rinsing in lakes and streams just doesn't cut it for a white shirt in the socal desert.