The desert is, by definition, dry. But the drought in California, most definitely not ended by El Nino, is more than just dry. It is killing off once-reliable springs along the route. This means, in theory, carrying water for insanely long stretches. Carrying water for 30 miles means carrying enough extra to camp with; carrying water for 40 means two gallons or more,16 extra pounds.
But, like, the PCT provides, bro. Or to be more precise, trail angels are stepping up and stocking caches of water along these waterless stretches. Caches make me conflicted. They are only as good as the people who stock them, and good intentions do not suffice. The angles involved also need to foresee giant groups of hikers arriving without warning and using up all the water, a logistical nightmare.
Still, somehow, it all works out. In this case, someone, a very cool someone, is stocking a cache at Bird Spring Pass, which replaces Yellow Jacket Spring, Willow Spring, and McIvers Spring, all once good springs now dry. I hiked into Bird Springs Pass on empty on another big 30 mile day. There was the usual hiker clump reclining around rocks and trees in the shade. I am aware of how solitary this trip has become for me, so I at least made small talk before filling my water bladders and hiking on.
Whatever I think about these hikers being soft, and how this trail should be at least in part about independence from our post-industrial world, caches keep me honest. I like water too. Thanks, Mr. Trail Angel named Devilfish, you are keeping me alive and my pack light. I hiked on up into the hills and slept the sleep of the 30-miler. Not quite the sleep of the just, but it works.
But, like, the PCT provides, bro. Or to be more precise, trail angels are stepping up and stocking caches of water along these waterless stretches. Caches make me conflicted. They are only as good as the people who stock them, and good intentions do not suffice. The angles involved also need to foresee giant groups of hikers arriving without warning and using up all the water, a logistical nightmare.
Still, somehow, it all works out. In this case, someone, a very cool someone, is stocking a cache at Bird Spring Pass, which replaces Yellow Jacket Spring, Willow Spring, and McIvers Spring, all once good springs now dry. I hiked into Bird Springs Pass on empty on another big 30 mile day. There was the usual hiker clump reclining around rocks and trees in the shade. I am aware of how solitary this trip has become for me, so I at least made small talk before filling my water bladders and hiking on.
Whatever I think about these hikers being soft, and how this trail should be at least in part about independence from our post-industrial world, caches keep me honest. I like water too. Thanks, Mr. Trail Angel named Devilfish, you are keeping me alive and my pack light. I hiked on up into the hills and slept the sleep of the 30-miler. Not quite the sleep of the just, but it works.
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