The trail was a nightmare today. The San Bernardino National Forest has, for whatever reason, let the PCT go to hell over the stretch we covered today. Blowdowns (trees fallen over the trail), overgrown brush, washed out trail tread -- every 100 yards there was something getting in the way of our walking. It was such an unpleasant surprise, especially given that yesterday, we couldn't have been happier with how clean the trail had been, how well-graded and how smooth it was. It was hot today, as well. We dropped nearly 3000 ft in elevation and spent most of the day trudging monotonously along the exposed rim of Deep Creek Canyon. It was nice to look down and see the rushing waters below, but the day got tedious fast. Flies and gnats were out in abundance. Eliza was grumpy. We both felt kind of bored and miserable.
Around five o'clock, however, we dipped into paradise. We came to the Deep Creek Hot Springs. We had been looking forward to a soak in the hot waters and knew we'd get there by evening. I think we were both skeptical about how nice it would be, though. We've been to some natural hot springs in Oregon and Washington and there is a tendency among the locals who frequent these types of places to use them as party spots, leaving a lot of garbage around, scumming up the water with who knows what. But this spot was absolutely beautiful.
There were a handful of local guys in attendance, a couple here, a couple over there, drinking beers, smoking pot -- it really felt all of a sudden that summer had arrived, the summer ease, the feeling of summer vacation. A group of thru-hikers were there, some of the folks we had been leap-frogging with for the past couple of days, others that we've met and see in town every week. The hiker crowd took on a strange role at the hot springs. I expected that people would be lounging around, filthy clothes discarded, lapping up the change in scenery, basking in the glory of such a spot as this. What I saw, though, was an almost sullen crew of neoprene-clad workhorses, a bit tired out from the day, thoroughly unimpressed with the luxury of steamy baths before them, nervously checking their watches, figuring how many more miles to get in before sundown. Not that I don't frequently suffer from the same obsession with getting in miles every day, but this had to be an exception.
Eliza and I soaked for a while in one of the constructed stone baths, built to catch the flowing hot water before it makes it's way down into the cold rush of the creek. We chatted with a local couple who had come over from Wrightwood, our next town destintion. They were both amazed to hear about this trip we're on, this multi-month journey by foot which we find ourselves in he middle of. We find it pretty amazing ourselves, we laughed.
Camping supposedly wasn't allowed at the hot springs, but I wasn't going to miss the chance to wake up to a hot bath in the morning. We slept on the beach, spellbound by the low crash and rumble of the strong currents of Deep Creek.
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