Start point

Cibbets Flat

End point

Burnt Rancheria (a tiny house hostel 1/2 mile from Burnt Rancheria) trail mile 41.5

Miles hiked

10.9 trail miles, 1.3 off trail.

Wilderness area

Cleveland National Forest

People I met

Larry and Scott

Kendall

The day on trail

Last night was nuts. NUTS. The wind was bonkers and snapped my campsite neighbors guy lines. It pulled up the stakes from the tent Roberta set up and snapped two of the buckles that attached her tent to her car. It even shifted the tent around, with all the heavy coolers and crates, so much that a hole tore open in the floor.

Luckily all my equipment was dry. Thank goodness for Roberta and her car. Maor, Freebird, and Neil all had their stuff drenched.

Neil made it to Mt Laguna today, and I assume Maor and Freebird did, too. I got to a nearby shelter and opted to plunk down $50 for a hostel bed. The hostel is nice. I did a little laundry to wash out the dirt from my socks and some of my clothes, and it’s all drying over a heater.

I met Larry and Scott in the Hostel, and Kendall by the lodge (the only provisions store in town). Ends up Kendall has the bunk next to mine. The two former are from the area, Southern California, and Kendall is from Brisbane (pronounced “briz-bin” thank you for the education), Australia.

It was so wet I actually had some friction in my shoe and had my first blister with my Altras. It’s the lateral side of my right second toe. Boo. But it should reduce quickly.

Waiting out the storm was the right move. And I think coming here was a good move, too.

I ate at the Pine Valley Café and Tavern, which was amazing. I had a life changing chocolate croissant. Dana (from the first day on trail entry) ate there with her friend shortly after dropping me off. She texted me saying “if you’re ever in the area again, eat here”. She said the pastry chef is amazing and, as she’s training in pastry, I’d better listen. So when I accidentally ended up there, yeah, I tried the pastry. And an omelette. And it was all so good.

The trail started off out of Cibbets with mostly fresh, bass heavy squeaky, gentle powder snow. There were some areas where it was melting underneath into little rivulets of bright red clay laden slush that soaked my shoes. After about seven miles, once there was tree cover, it was just slush. Slush that reminded me of a snow cone that was forgotten about for a few minutes in an August in Tucson. Just dripping, wet, cold, slush.

Gross.

But a gross day in trail with outbursts of sun still beats a good day at work.

The sign to get off trail and to the tiny mountain town I ended up at

Forget the slush, though, it’s still gorgeous.

And an obligatory prickly pear covered in snow photo. Because.