PCT Day 17: Mile 206-209.5 Cabazon


The wind was really kicking. Felt like my tent was in a mosh pit and the heavy part of the song just hit. Finally at day break, it calmed long enough for me to pack my tent and bag up and get back on the trail.

Dana was up and ready as she seemed like an early morning gal, I said goodbye, took a picture, and headed out onto the trail.

Whatever the wind held back in that morning, it made up for over the rest of the day. I pinned my hat down and covered it with my buff to make sure it didn’t take flight as I walked through the flat desert after Snow Creek towards the I-10.

I could hear the roar of the highway grow closer, and soon found myself on a service road, walking with my thumb out. The Post Office didn’t open until 8:30, but surely someone would pick me up. . . . not a soul on the road headed my way until finally Jose, from Mexico in his little blue Nissan picked me up.

I thanked him, and grabbed my resupply box (Thanks Mark!) from the Post Office. Then after some administrative work at the town library, I headed to In and Out for a burger and fries that I had been craving all day.

Stuffed to the gills, pack heavy with 6 days of food, I set back out on the road towards the junction where the I-10 met the PCT. It was still chilly from the wind gusting and the 60 degree weather. It wasn’t until the last 2 miles of my 7 mile walk from In and Out that Dave, a Marlboro smoking white bearded fella pulled over and gave me a lift.

I thanked him, we fist bumped, then I went under the overpass. To my surprise Matt (guy I hiked with day 1) showed up not long after I did! We caught up sharing stories from the last few days over dinner. It was 8.5 miles to the next camp and it was too late to start that push. Seeing as I had almost walked 17 getting around town, I decided to stay . . . under an overpass (can’t get much more homeless than this!). I pitched my tent, grabbed my headphones, and prayed for at least a little sleep.

Trail Angel:

Dave – 60s, Marlboro smoking, truck driving, kind fella that hooked me up with a ride to my home under the overpass.