The Angeles National Forest has been a part of California's landscape since 1908, stretching across the San Gabriel and Sierra Pelona Mountains. As I set off on this stretch of the PCT, I know I have a good 100mi (160km) ahead of me, weaving through these mountains, climbing ridges, and descending into valleys, all with Los Angeles just beyond the horizon. It's strange to think that just north of one of the busiest cities in the world, this vast wilderness remains untouched, protected under the Wilderness Act. Here, I am merely a visitor passing through, aware that the forest and its wild inhabitants—black bears, cougars, and rattlesnakes—have called this place home long before me.
The landscape changes as I go, with chaparral shrubs dominating the lower elevations, giving way to oak woodlands, coulter pines, Douglas fir, and California walnut. The trail is rugged, and I feel the weight of my pack pressing on my shoulders as I climb toward the high ridges of the San Gabriels. Each ascent intensifies, with my quads burning and calves twitching with every step I take. Looking up, I am rewarded with sprawling views of the city behind me and the Mojave Desert stretching endlessly ahead, its vastness framed by the San Andreas Fault. The effort is intense, but the sprawling scenery makes it worthwhile.
A few of the mountains I pass stand out. Mount Baden-Powell, named after the founder of the World Scouting Movement, is just a short detour from the PCT. Mount Burnham honours a military scout who influenced Baden-Powell's teachings. Then there's Mount Disappointment, with its unfortunate name. Surveyors once believed it to be the highest peak in the area, only to be let down when San Gabriel Peak proved taller. History lingers here, even on South Mount Hawkins, where a fire lookout tower once stood for 67 years before it was claimed by a wildfire.
To my right, I catch glimpses of the Mountain High Ski Resort that has welcomed skiers since 1937. It's hard to imagine now, under the summer sun, but this place comes alive in winter with skiers carving down the slopes. Can you believe that a ski ticket here once cost just $1.50?
The trail eventually descends, crossing Soledad Canyon Road and the Santa Clara River. The final 10mi (16km) led me into Agua Dulce, a small town in the Sierra Pelona Valley. Just outside of town, the Vasquez Rocks rise dramatically from the earth due to seismic uplift. They're a familiar sight, having appeared in countless films, but they hold a deeper history as a hideout for the legendary bandit Tiburcio Vasquez.
As I settle in for the
night, I pitch my tent and slip off my boots, and the cool air on my feet is a
welcome relief. After assessing my boots' integrity for support and cushioning,
I give my legs and feet a good rubdown to work out the aches. I pull out a
dehydrated meal of savoury beef stew. I added boiling water to the pouch and
waited for it to rehydrate. As I take that first bite, the warmth and comfort
settle in, and for a split moment, the day's effort fades away. The quiet of
the wilderness surrounds me, bringing with it a sense of calm and tranquility.
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