October 1st Oak Creek Canyon to Hiker Town

In the early morning, I continued my walk along the ridge above Oak Creek Canyon before once again climbing in the fire scarred hills. There have been so many places that have burned since Kennedy Meadows and the hopes for their recovery are pretty darn slim. In this desert area, how long would it take for a pinyon pine to reach maturity? That's assuming it would grow at all in the changing climate. The only things to thrive around here are sticker bushes. Amazingly enough, with last night's rain the stream at Tylerhorse Canyon was flowing. The water tasted a bit chalky, but it's better than nothing, so I filled my 2L Platypus. Afterwards I began my descent into the lowlands, at one time following a barbed-wire fence for some distance. Eventually I came out on a dirt road that ran between groves of Joshua trees that paralleled the wash of Cottonwood Creek. This road led to the bridge that crosses the creek and across the bridge lay Aqueduct Road. The day was already turning into a scorcher and I was going through water quickly. There was a faucet provided by the Los Angeles Department of Power and Water not far from the bridge, but the stuff that came out of it was the sickest I'd seen, little brown chunks suspended in the greenish water. No way I was choking that stuff down. Once more caches came to the rescue as I discovered two on the long dusty trek into town. It seemed like I was forever on Aqueduct Road. I could see the town off in the distance, but for the longest time it didn't appear to be getting any closer. All in all, I spent about five hours on that road, feet throbbing in the 90 degree heat. The only people I saw during that time were a group of dirt bikers that raised a cloud of dust as they sped by. I was much relieved when I hit the straight road into town. I focused on the nearest house and watched it grow larger and larger as I approached until finally, I was standing beside it. I followed the riveted metal pipe of the Los Angeles Aqueduct until it crossed over the exposed California Aqueduct, running like a river within the confines of its concrete banks. I fished out my headlamp on the opposite side as it was getting hard to see in the dim light. On the walk along Highway 138, at the intersection with Three Points Road, I came within ten feet of a Mojave Green rattler that was soaking up the radiated heat of the asphalt. That put a little extra kick in my step, so much so that I nearly blew right past Hiker Town, my stopping place for the night. I arrived at 9 p.m., which I thought was a bit late, but was nevertheless welcomed with open arms, given a small room with a big bed, and directed towards the toilet and shower. Used the facilities to freshen up, dashed off a couple of e-mails, and chatted a short while with Crow, a section hiker I had been following since Kennedy Meadows. At 10 I started getting a case of droopy eye, so I excused myself and hit the hay. As soon as I lay my head on the pillow, I was out like a light.

36 Miles