PapaDen's Pacific Crest Trail Journey Book 2 (eBook)

Hiker Town to Tehachapi, CA Tejachapi, CA to Walker Pass PCT Section 3 SOBO: Northern CA (CA/OR Border to South Lake Tahoe)

Dennis Clairmont (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2026 | 1. Auflage
336 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3178-2903-2 (ISBN)

Infos

PapaDen's Pacific Crest Trail Journey: Book Two carries readers through deserts, foothills, and the granite spine of Northern California. Beginning near Tehachapi and weaving southbound from the Oregon border, Dennis A. Clairmont ('PapaDen') invites readers into the raw realities and unexpected wonders of the PCT. From water caches and trail angels in the Mojave, to the endless ridges of the Trinity Alps, to the solitude of Desolation Wilderness, this memoir blends immersive storytelling, detailed daily itineraries, and vivid photography. More than a trail log, it is a meditation on endurance, faith, and the healing power of wilderness. Whether you're a seasoned thru-hiker or an armchair adventurer, Book Two captures the grit, grace, and grandeur of the Pacific Crest Trail's Northern California miles.

DENNIS ARMAND CLAIRMONT was raised in the small New England town of Gilford Village, New Hampshire, at the base of Gunstock Mountain, where he developed a lifelong love for the outdoors. Fall meant playing football, winter brought skiing, and spring was for baseball. But summer was always his favorite season-building treehouses, digging underground forts, fishing for trout in nearby streams, raking blueberries, and hiking and camping with the Boy Scouts. In 1968, his family relocated from New England to California, leaving behind the landscape that had shaped his early passions. More than five decades later, after raising four children, Dennis found himself returning to those childhood roots. At 66 years old-despite arthritic knees and armed only with a backpack-he set out to undertake the most physically demanding challenge of his life: hiking the Pacific Crest Trail from Campo, California, to the Canadian border. Dennis has chronicled that adventure in PapaDen's Pacific Crest Trail Journey, a trilogy of three books that tells the full story-one of perseverance, adventure, and personal rediscovery along one of America's great long-distance trails. Dennis now lives in Portland, Oregon, with his wife Shelley-his college sweetheart-after 52 years of marriage. They remain close to their four children and fifteen grandchildren.

Textauszug

PCT Sierra Chapter 2 Tehachapi, CA to Walker Pass/Onyx, CA PCT Mile 566.5 – 653.3 NOBO, 86.8 miles April 17, 2019 – April 23, 2019

Introduction

A Strategic Return

I returned to Tehachapi on April 17, 2019, with purpose in my stride and clarity in my mind. The desert section behind me, I set my sights on the gateway to the Sierra—Walker Pass—knowing this stretch would test not just my endurance, but my spirit.

The timing felt right. Spring was awakening the high country. The cool air still clung to the ridges, and the wildflowers had begun to color the hills with bursts of yellow and purple. My goal was simple but significant: hike from Tehachapi to Walker Pass, then return north to begin the next leg from the Oregon-California border in June.

That future leg would lead me southbound through Northern California—a 599-mile journey culminating at Echo Lake near South Lake Tahoe. And then, in late July, I would return to Walker Pass, where my footsteps would once again point north. I would close the loop between the Sierra and the Cascades, one mile and one prayer at a time.

This chapter marks the beginning of that bridge—the space between desert’s harsh clarity and the Sierra’s silent majesty. It is a story of wind and water, of granite and grace. Of trail magic and spiritual reawakening.

And so, I stepped forward once more—not just to finish miles, but to find what waited in the quiet places between them.

Setting the Stage

I drove north to Mojave, California, where I had arranged to leave my car with a friend. From there, I turned to the Tehachapi Trail Angel list I’d photographed weeks earlier—a laminated gift of names and phone numbers from hikers past.

A few calls later, I’d secured a ride from Mojave to the Highway 58 overpass, the official start of this segment and a psychological threshold between Southern California’s desert climbs and the long-awaited Sierra Nevada.

At approximately 3:00 p.m., beneath a sky beginning to soften with afternoon light, I shouldered my pack and stepped back onto the trail. Northbound once more.

Day One: Tehachapi (Mile 566.5, Elevation 3,844 ft.) to Tentsite (Mile 571.0, Elevation 5,202 ft.) – 4.5 Miles

The hike out of Tehachapi begins at an elevation of 3,811 feet and climbs relentlessly to 6,167 feet over the first eight miles. My goal was modest: complete half the climb by nightfall. But even that short stretch would prove grueling. The southern exposure offered no protection—no trees, no shade, only switchback after switchback under the furnace of a spring sun.

For the first 2.5 miles, the trail paralleled Highway 58 to the east, teasing me with the illusion of ease. Then, without apology, it veered north and launched skyward through a steep series of switchbacks. As I pushed upward, the wind whipped dust into spirals that shimmered in the sun. Sweat soaked my hat, my shirt clung to my back, and the desert air pressed down like a heated iron. I moved slowly, burdened with four liters of water and six days' worth of food. My body felt leaden; my energy muted by the heat.

The path, etched narrowly into the hillside, wound through a desert tapestry of Joshua trees and vibrant spring bloom. Beautiful purple flowers, like miniature pin cushions, clustered in tight bouquets, their slender pistils reaching delicately skyward. Yellow Broadleaf Arnica pushed through the sandy soil in defiant bursts of color—flashes of hope amid the hardship. A mile into the climb, in the welcome shade beneath a trio of Joshua trees, I found two one-gallon jugs of water. Trail magic. I filled my two empty bottles and resumed the climb, silently thanking the unknown angel who had taken the time and effort to deliver water to this remote stretch of trail.

I reached a flat rise halfway up the mountain and decided to make camp. My tent nestled among a small stand of Joshua trees, the wind-swept view in every direction commanding awe. To the south, hundreds of wind turbines stood like white sentinels across the desert floor. On the horizon, the snow-capped peaks of Big Bear and Wrightwood shimmered in the evening light. To the east, the towns of Ridgecrest and Mojave flickered to life, their streetlamps tiny embers in the growing dusk.

As night fell, a full moon ascended over the eastern horizon, silvering the Joshua trees and bathing the landscape in an eerie, luminous hush. Venus and Mercury appeared in the southern sky, brilliant and steady—celestial companions on my solitary journey. I opened my SkyView app and scanned the heavens, the screen glowing faintly in the night, the constellations revealing themselves one by one. Wrapped in the quiet wonder of the desert and the company of stars, I fell asleep with the wind whispering softly against my tent.

Mojave View with Pisces, Venus and Mercury Overhead

Day Two: Tentsite (Mile 571.0, Elevation 5,202 ft.) to Golden Oaks Spring (Mile 583.3, Elevation 5,488 ft.) – 12.3 Miles

A Mountain Morning and Trail Fuel

I woke to a soft, golden hush that crept over the ridges and lit the sky behind the Joshua trees in brilliant oranges and purples. With a shiver and a stretch, I unzipped my tent, already looking forward to the familiar comfort of hot coffee and a warm breakfast. Inside my tent, my tiny gas stove roared to life, the steam from a titanium mug curling up like incense into the chill desert air. I laid out my meal—Mountain House granola with blueberries and a freeze-dried breakfast skillet of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and sausage. There’s a certain satisfaction in trail meals that goes beyond the taste—each bite is a reward for the effort, a promise to keep going.

Into the Hills and Among the Stones

Fueled and packed, I resumed my climb. The trail pushed north, threading its way up the dusty slopes through a tangle of chaparral and sunbaked rock. Alongside me rose cliffs the color of toasted clay, their faces stained with lichen in splashes of yellow and green. The PCT clung to the mountainside like a forgotten ribbon, snaking between craggy outcrops and dry gullies. The morning air, crisp and still, smelled faintly of crushed sage and warming granite.

Life Along the Trail

By mid-morning, I reached a clearing lined with pine and juniper. Here, the trail softened—no longer just a path but a corridor flanked by hardy vegetation and the distant hum of wind turbines. As I passed through a wooden barrier marking the edge of another stretch, I paused and listened to the sounds: birdsong, the rustle of a breeze, and far off, the mechanical murmur of blades slicing through sky.

The desert, though harsh, offered gifts. Wildflowers exploded at my feet in brilliant displays—clusters of purple and gold that blanketed the trail like a celebration. I walked through this kaleidoscope of color, the ground carpeted in desert dandelions and elegant bluebells, their petals catching the sunlight in a dance of shadow and glow.

A Horned Encounter

Just as I crested a small rise, something moved at my feet. I stopped instantly. Perfectly camouflaged against the earth, a horned lizard blinked up at me, its spiked armor blending flawlessly with the gravel. We studied each other in silence. He didn’t move. Neither did I. It was one of those quiet trail moments—where time paused, and wild met wanderer.

Horned Lizard, also known as “Horney Toad”

Informational Tidbit: In order to ward off predators, short-horned lizards can inflate their bodies to nearly double their size. Some species even employ a bizarre defense mechanism—shooting blood from their eyes. Yes, blood. It’s an evolutionary marvel as fascinating as it is grotesque.

Looking at this tiny creature, so still and ancient in its presence, I couldn’t help but marvel at the strange arsenal nature had gifted it. Out here, survival was creativity, and even the smallest beings had evolved the most surprising tricks. With a nod of silent respect, I stepped aside and let him be, continuing my ascent with a sense of wonder still lingering in the air.

Windmills and the Edge of Wilderness

By early afternoon, the trail carried me near the looming silhouettes of wind turbines. Towering above, their blades turned with solemn grace, a field of giants churning against the backdrop of a cobalt sky. These steel monoliths, both beautiful and unnerving, are a constant companion in this section—tall reminders of humanity’s imprint in even the most remote terrain.

Windmills by the Hundreds

The Final Push to Water

The sun was now high overhead. My water bottles were empty, my pace slower. The trail dipped and rose, twisting through hills awash in yellow flowers and past oaks clinging to life in the arid soil. The air smelled like heat and dust and old roots. At last, tucked in a shaded cleft of the hillside, I heard the trickle I’d been longing for all day.

Golden Oaks Spring emerged from a modest length of PVC piping, spilling into a shallow, dark ribbon of earth. Not much to look at, but it might as well have been a mountain stream for the gratitude I felt. I filled my bottles and drank deeply. Although it was only 3:15 p.m., I chose to spend the night here because the next water source was 18 miles away. Around the spring, tufts of green curled up from the rocks—grass,...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 5.1.2026
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Reisen ► Sport- / Aktivreisen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3178-2903-2 / 9798317829032