Wednesday, March 12th, 2025, 0540-1400
Black Rock Campground to Desert Hot Springs, mm 15, Section 8e, elevation 2100′
18 miles.
Plus 2 days in town, hiding out from a winter storm (Thursday-Friday, March 13-14th)
I slept warm and comfortable in the embrace of my juniper, then was up early, eager to make it into town for a hot shower after 18 days. I think this stretch set the record for the longest time I went without a shower, plus also laundry. However, I did take a pretty good sink shower / laundry at the Fenner gas station a week and a half prior, so I’m not sure this record counted as much. Regardless, I was feeling pretty rank.
I briefly stopped at the Black Rock campground and was happy I didn’t try to stay there. It appeared to be full and the sites were mostly set-up for accommodating vehicles, not tents. Plus I would have needed to fork out $35 to wRec.gov….no thanks. There weren’t even outlets for charging anywhere, not even on the outside of the ranger station or in the bathrooms. Luckily I didn’t need electricity.
I carried on, taking the purple route towards Desert Hot Springs. This lower route would lead me to the PCT via Mission Creek. Brett’s other connector route went through the town of Yucca \ Joshua Tree and then high into the San Gorgonio mountains. With a winter storm approaching, I didn’t want to trudge through snow to get to the PCT. Thus I chose the lower route through DHS. The main event of the lower route was a descent into Long Canyon. There was even a sign at the top, describing the trail. Unfortunately, as with all land surrounding the area, I quickly discovered how little respect southern Californians seemed to have for desert land. Immediately I came across a junked car, pushed into the ravine. Also, the trail had been ravaged by motorcycles, despite the signage prohibiting such use…another common trait for SoCal.
Despite this, the ‘trail’ was pretty good, in that it quickly became just another wash walk but had nice views of the canyon as I descended. Occasionally I got a view of Mt San Jacinto, which was playing a game of hide and seek with the clouds. The mountain looked so huge as I got closer and closer. It was hard to imagine that I planned to be up high along its ridges on the PCT soon.
The name “Long Canyon” was pretty fitting, as it was well over 10 miles down. It got a bit monotonous near the end, only because I was antsy to get to town after such a long time without modern conveniences (something like 350 miles of desert travel). I was surprised to actually meet 2 day hikers, a nice couple who were looking for birds and spring flowers. It was easy to identify their car as the Prius parked at the end of the trail…what else?
Also identifying the trailhead was a pile of freshly-dumped trash. This was only the first of numerous such piles that I passed on the way into town. It was actually quite appalling how much trash was illegally dumped, making me question if it was just something about this particular road or what? But no, all areas surrounding the town were equally treated as a giant illegal dumping ground. I wondered how I’d suddenly stepped into a developing country, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by this anymore. Many parts of the US are descending into such filth, abuse, and disrespect. Yet still, DHS had to be the trashiest city I’ve yet visited in the US, something I wish they might take to heart and do something about but I realize no one gives a shit about anything anymore. What does any of it matter when there are so many worse things happeneing? Make America Great Again.
It only took about 20 minutes of walking through town before I wished I was back in the middle-of-nowhere-desert. Upon getting cell reception, I was able to book a night at a nearby hot springs resort for less than $100. I was in such a good mood about this, plus feeling starved for some human interaction, that I called my mom to catch up. Just then, a cat dashed across my feet and ran straight into the tire of a moving car. I witnessed the whole horrific thing, crying out to my mom in shock. It was so upsetting for the both of us, especially since the cat was still alive after the impact, howling in pain and looking straight at me. I could tell its neck and or back was broken, but I was the one paralyzed by the trauma of seeing this poor animal suffer so. I don’t handle suffering well at all, especially animals. It was all so overwhelming that I’m ashamed to admit that all I could do was walk away. I guess walking is my answer to everything, even when it’s cowardly. I don’t know why I’m describing this terrible detail, maybe only because I needed to get it out to let it go.
So my mood went from that of elation to anguish in a matter of seconds, with a shadow of grief and despair hanging over me all day. I went to the post office to pick up a package with new shoes and socks (so desperately needed), but even this didn’t make me happy. I ate a terrible Subway sandwich and made a brief stop at the Dollar General…all depressing stuff. The Miracle Springs Resort and Spa was over a mile from the main part of town, uphill all the way. But my spirits were lifted when I saw the resort pools and my huge room. The whole place was quite outdated, looking like a 70’s vintage off-the-strip Vegas casino, but I thought it was still a deal for the price, matching my hikertrash tastes just fine. I exploded my pack in the room, getting ready for a complete wash-down and refurbishing of all my gear. Finally my most anticipated event of the day was upon me: SHOWER TIME!
This was where I nearly lost my shit. After all the craziness of surviving a journey across 2 deserts, being harangued by dogs, bulls, burros, and cats, carrying loads of water for hundreds of miles, going days without seeing anyone, worried I could lose my mind to the desolation, dodging cactus and thorny bushes and generally wondering each day if I might die of exhaustion, exposure, falling, or dehydration, all I wanted was a hot shower. One might correctly assume that a place with ‘HOT Springs” in all the names would be able to provide in such a way. But no. I cranked the faucet and got the most frustrating shift from lukewarm to cold water coming out the shower head, no matter how much I fiddled with the handle. It seemed completely broken. Yet I couldn’t just go request another room because then I would have to spend another 30 minutes repacking all my crap. Since semi- hot water was at least coming out of the lower faucet, I settled for a bath. But I wanted to murder someone or something at the time.
Later I talked with the manager, who offered a pretty reasonable and scientific explanation for the situation. The resort utilized both a cold and hot springs, each of which were interestingly situated on opposite sides of the San Andreas fault (which has since been renamed Joe Biden’s Fault by the Trump Administration). The resort mixed the 2 springs to achieve a comfortable temperature, but the pressures varied from day to day, hence the cold water this day. But the manager had an ‘app’ by which he could make pressure adjustments for each room. He even gave me his number so I could reach him anytime. I went back to my room and found that the temperature had indeed increased, so I could finally take my long-anticipated hot shower.
When at first I was ready to demand my money back and go find another hotel, I ended up loving the resort so much that I booked a second night. The staff were super nice and accommodating and the facilities were about perfect for a thru-hiker. There was a guest laundry, Italian restaurant on site, and a bunch of hot pools in the courtyard. The only downside was the distance from any other restaurants and groceries. I had ok Chinese the first night and then really good pad Thai the second.
I got all my chores done, plus was able to research and make a plan for the second leg(s) of my desert journey. I had just one last stretch to go to connect to the PCT (thus completing all sections of the Great Western Loop), then planned to skip down to the Salton Sea to start the 150 mile San Diego Trans County Trail. I wanted to hold true to my original intent to continue all the way to the ocean…my own version of the desert winter thru hike. If I was still feeling good by the time I reached San Diego, I also hoped to re-hike the entire 700 mile ‘desert’ section of the PCT.
The highlight of my stay in DHS was getting to hangout with a fellow thru-hiker, Tidewalker. Though we’d never met, we were both hiking the Hayduke in 2023. We started following each other on social media, and she’d reached out when she saw I was going to be near Palm Springs. She was working the tennis event in Indian Wells and living out of her van. She came to join me in the hot pools on the second night, where we talked trail stories and watched the blood moon eclipse. It was so very revitalizing for my socially-deprived soul, thanks so much Tidewalker for the treats and company!
I ended up staying a 3rd day in DHS, not because I wanted to but because the winter storm advisory still wasn’t lifted. Tidewalker sent me a picture from the Mojave Preserve that next morning, where the conditions looked absolutely miserable. I was so lucky to make it through the last few sections before a storm like that caught me. Whew! It didn’t make much sense to go back out into such conditions, even though my favorite resort was fully booked Friday and I ended up staying at what was basically a flop house in a remote neighborhood, but listed as a hostel. It was by far the worst place I’ve stayed in a long time. By Saturday morning, I couldn’t wait to get out of DHS for good.
