The plan was never to stay. But the spot had a small creek running alongside it, shade, and enough of both to make leaving feel unnecessary. I stayed and read. A lot of people came through — some familiar faces, some new ones. Nothing particularly eventful happened, which was, in itself, the point. Sometimes a day is exactly what it is.
The decision to leave was made by a carabiner. Coin-flipping, hiker style. The carabiner said early start. My body said otherwise, and by morning the plan had already been revised: walk at night, skip the heat. Between 5pm and 6pm I started moving.
Not far along, I passed Deep Creek Hot Springs. Tempting, but the rumours of norovirus circulating in the area were convincing enough to keep walking. Popular spot — especially with day hikers from LA. Shortly after, I found a place to sit with a view across the valley, watching the river below. On the opposite slope, a group of what appeared to be day hikers methodically threw a pile of rubbish down the hillside. Then moved twenty metres and did the same with the contents of a cooler. The kind of thing that’s hard to unsee.
The walking itself was pleasant. The heat had eased, there was still enough light, and the canyons made for good company. Around mile 314, I reached the Mojave Forks Dam — enormous, around 60 metres high and over 600 metres long, and entirely empty on one side. A dam between two hills with a vast plain behind it and nothing to hold back. Turns out it’s a dry dam, designed to protect Hesperia and surrounding areas during the rare occasions the Mojave River floods. Rare enough that I’d never heard of such a thing before.
Past the dam came a river crossing — navigated via a construction of logs and timber that generously qualifies as a bridge. It held. Dry feet on the other side.
Then it got dark, and I kept walking. The new headlamp is excellent. Ran most of the night on its highest setting and still had battery left. It has two modes — near and far — and I used the near one. Occasionally the trail drops into gaps without warning. I’ve now fallen twice, both times at night, both times onto my knees. A hole in the trousers, a scrape, some disinfectant, a plaster, and Leukotape that didn’t particularly help. A reasonable attempt.
Sometime after midnight I stopped for nearly an hour, refilled water at a tap in a small clearing — not quite a campsite — and kept going. The plan was to walk through to McDonald’s at Cajon Pass for breakfast. The terrain had been manageable until then, but from that point the trail went uphill for a stretch.
Then: two eyes in the dark. Switched to far mode. A mountain lion — clear, close, motionless, watching. It moved into the bushes. I kept my light on it. Still there, maybe 1.5 metres in. A genuinely remarkable thing to see at that hour. Fifteen minutes later, two more eyes. A fox this time. Also fine.
I walked 33 miles in total — a personal record. Around 5am I decided that was enough. Four miles short of McDonald’s, which would have been achievable, but my feet were objecting and I’ve heard enough stories of people pushing past the point they should have stopped. I lay down on my pack and slept until around 11:30. Several hikers I knew walked past. A few I slept through entirely.
By 3pm I was moving again — slower than overnight, but moving. I reached McDonald’s. A large portion of the customers were hikers — dirty shirts, big packs stacked in a corner. Someone told me that a group of hikers had seen me sleeping by the trail earlier and thought I’d collapsed. Fortunately, he’d exchanged a few words with me when I briefly woke up and was able to reassure them. I found that quite amusing.
I ate the highest-calorie burger on the menu, a large fries, chicken nuggets, and then three more burgers — one saved for the next morning’s breakfast. Somewhere around 5,000 calories overnight in snacks, another 2,000–3,000 at McDonald’s, plus the burgers. Probably necessary. The trail has been taking more than it gives, weight-wise.
Six miles further brought me to the Swarthout Canyon camp spot at mile 348, supplied by trail angels — water in 3-litre bottles, a basin with soap for hand-washing, chairs. Around ten other hikers. Someone had put in a serious amount of effort for strangers passing through. I was genuinely tired and grateful. Tent up, asleep.