Hannibal's Pacific Crest Trail Chronicle

I am taking a short respite from the trail in this Southern California town that lives up to its name. Perched in the San Jacinto Mountains it is a small town obviously catering to tourists, set in a pinyon pine forest, surrounded by high peaks.

In contrast, most of my journey thus far has been through desert. Some of it bleak, as I had originally envisioned, but most, sublimely beautiful. The desert, at least this time of year, has many brightly colored flowers, a hundred varieties of cacti, and simultaneously, a starkness to the landscape that at times makes me feel as if I am a visitor in another world.

Some of the sights have been literally, breathtaking. On my very first day hiking north from the Mexican border I turned a corner to chance upon a large rattlesnake sunning himself mid-trail. I am unsure whether I saw him before I heard him, but there is, I assure you, no mistaking the intent of a rattlesnake's rattle and posture. "Danger, Stay Clear, I Can Hurt You." I had no trouble complying, bushwacking a wide arc around the serpent even as he slithered under some shrubs, away from me.

The effect of this experience lingered for a couple of days, as I expected to find a rattler around every turn. It was, thankfully, the only such encounter.

My thoughts while I hike, aside from being of family, friends and poisonous snakes (this is not a redundancy), are centered on water. While there has been a slightly higher than average rainfall in the desert this year, nevertheless, I may go 20 or 30 miles between springs or streams. In 100 degree heat, often without shade, this means carrying 5 or 6 liters of water at a time (making my lightweight pack not so light anymore). Occasionally, I will happen upon a water cache placed by "trail angels" for thirsty hikers. But, now that I am in town I will take hydration of a different sort, something cold with a slice of lime...