The heaviest rain passes over us during the night, leaving a steady drizzle to contend with the next morning with little to no cover on the trail. Even Belle is content to keep going, leaving her phone tucked away for once.
By midmorning, the trail climbs the slopes of the San Jacinto Mountains to a long ridge that connects each peak, bouncing up and down between them. For lunch, we stop at a patch wide enough to sit on the side of the trail, nodding to other hikers as they press on. West of us, there are breaks in the clouds heading our way. With any luck, the drizzle that’s been over us all day will clear up in another hour or two.
I’m almost ready to get going again when Bats asks, “That’s from Willamette Sportswear, right? How is it?”
Across from us, Belle shakes a few droplets off her raincoat before answering, “It is, and it’s great. I know they’re a national brand, but they’re a local company. I like supporting them. Growing up, I always loved their commercials. The company’s founder was a grandpa who would put his grandson in their gear and put him through all kinds of crazy tests.”
Bats nods, appreciating Belle’s story about crazy commercials, but I know he only has eyes for the gear. He’s always been about better, lighter gear. It’s his white whale. If he ever figures out the secret recipe for those crazy elf biscuits from the Lord of the Rings, the ones you only have to nibble on once a day, he’ll show up to hike with a book bag full of those, a water bottle, and his hammock. The rest of his essentials would fit in a hip bag and weigh two pounds, nine ounces.
“Belle has a snazzy raincoat. Good to know,” I say, climbing to my feet. “We need to get moving. I keep spotting white on the peaks ahead of us. I don’t know if it’s traces from last night’s storm or actual snowpack.”
Belle shrugs as she packs her garbage away. “So? We’ll have to cross it, regardless, right? We might as well take our time and hope it melts by the time we get there.”
I shake my head. “Not likely. And if the snow is packed, we may need to consider a different route.” That gets Belle’s attention. “Reports all say that the next few miles can be dangerous in the snow, and we don’t have the gear for it. There’s an alternate route between the next two peaks that leads down to Lake Hemet, then north to Idyllwild, but it’s going to make for a long day if we go that way.”
They each nod in understanding before we leave our perch on the side of Palm View Peak, dropping into a saddle between it and Spitler Peak ahead. As we start our climb up the side of the next peak, we get into a sparse forest of pine trees. There’s a good dusting of snow up here. It’s not deep, a mushy inch or two on top, but there’s a solid pack beneath it. The shade has kept it cooled and protected from the morning’s drizzle. Crossing isn’t too difficult. It helps that the path is pretty level. Except this isn’t the peak I’m worried about. Hell, even the next one isn’t. To the north of us, Mt. San Jacinto is covered in white. Same for Tahquitz Peak, the third point down the ridge from us. We’ll be at least fifteen hundred feet higher by the time we get there. We can expect thicker snow ahead.
My gaze wanders to the northeast, where the city of Palm Springs sits soaking up the afternoon sun in relative bliss not ten miles away. No doubt the golf courses are full of businessmen doing deals while their wives sip cosmopolitans on the patio, bemoaning the fact that they had to venture out in pants today. I’m used to their kind, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them. Especially when I’m straddling the ridge of a mountain range, cold and wet.
From behind me, Nova asks, “Are we taking a break?”
My attention snaps back to the trail as I realize I’ve been standing still for a good minute or two, judging by the looks I’m getting from the others. Long enough that Belle’s got her phone out, snapping a few photos while they wait. “No,” I answer, starting forward again. I point toward a tall, white peak about five miles north of us. “The trail is heading to the east side of that peak. We’re already having to tread carefully, and it’s going to get worse before we reach the trail into Idyllwild. We’ll need to pull off at the next junction instead.”
“That’s the long day option, right?” Nova asks, sounding a touch tired. I don’t blame him. Hiking cold and wet sucks, and my body is letting me know it.
I point toward a set of switchbacks ahead of us, trailing down the west side of the ridge. “We’re taking those. According to my app, it’s about five miles down to a road and then another two and a half to a campsite.”
“At least it’s all downhill,” Belle says, trying to comfort Nova. “Give our quads a break.”
“See. Even the princess agrees,” I say, starting along the trail again.
We hike in relative silence, moving along at a consistent pace until we reach the steep switchbacks heading down from the ridge. We pause long enough to stretch out our calves and swap our raincoats for long-sleeved shirts and jackets. Hiking in raincoats becomes a necessity sooner or later, but you trade waterproofing for breathability. The morning push has left us on the sweaty side, and the descent ahead will only make it worse. Trading tops should help us dry out and keep us warmer.
By the time we hit the road an hour later, we’re all gassed. My thighs, calves, and knees are hot and aching. Looking around, I’m not the only one.
Belle holds out a small plastic bag, waving it at me while we stop to gulp down some water. “Jerky?” she asks. I shoot her a dubious glance. “Go ahead. It’s not poisoned. See.” She takes a piece for herself and bites into it. Her lips purse in a satisfied grin, and I can’t help letting my gaze linger on them. Before she can notice, I snag a piece and turn to get going. Tearing a piece off and shoving it in my mouth, I come to a complete stop in the middle of the road.
Bats almost runs into me. “You okay, bud?”
My eyes go wide in surprise as the flavor lingers on my tongue as I turn to ask, “Where did you get this?”
Belle cocks her head at me. “I made it. Why? Not up to your high standards?”
I shrug dismissively. “It’s not bad,” I lie. “But I’ve had better.”
“Right,” she says, drawing the word out like she’s not buying my bullshit.
Shrugging, I turn and keep going. Then I take another bite. Yeah, I’ve had better, but not by much. Belle and Nova pass me as I drift a little, letting Bats catch up to me. I lean toward him and ask, “You okay?”
Bats’ gaze stays on the road ahead as he nods once. “Yeah,” he says. “Only a few more miles, right?”
I nod, and that’s that. See? I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to talk. We walk down the road in silence as I chew on Belle’s jerky. She says she made it? Okay, fine. I’m impressed.
***
We reach the campground, not far from the shore of Lake Hemet, and get set up with a little time to relax. I’m getting settled when someone gives my tent a light shake.
“Hey, Grinder,” Belle calls through my tent door. “I’m going down to the lake to get a few pictures of the sunset. Come with me.”
I scoff, leaning back against my pack. “Hard pass, princess. Take Nova. Hell, take Bats too. I could use a little peace and quiet.”
“Nope,” she replies. “You and me, Gaston. A few minutes won’t kill you.”
“Again, hard pass. Go away.” It goes quiet on the other side of the thin tent wall, and for a moment I start to relax.
“I have a few more episodes of my show,” she tells me. “I could sit here and watch them. Volume up. I know how much of a fan of those you are. Then again, we’re out here to enjoy getting away from all that crap, right?”
Getting more than a little agitated, I unzip the tent door and glare out at Belle. She’s smiling as she looks back at me with determination in her eyes. What the hell is with this girl? “Don’t you annoy me enough on the trail?”
Belle turns toward the others and a clump of her brunette hair spills over her slender shoulder. I wouldn’t be surprised if it smells like some assortment of flowers when she hasn’t been out on the trail for a week and a half. Then again, why do I care what her hair smells like? Ugh. This woman is giving me a migraine. She looks back at me, nibbling her lip. Maybe if I nibbled on her lip, she’d shut the hell up. Wait . . . no. Bad idea.
“You asked me a question,” she reminds me. “About why I’m on this hike. Walk with me and I’ll tell you. Some of it, at least.”
Well, shit. Now I’m curious. “Fine,” I answer, reaching for my boots before I can come up with a good reason not to go. “There, a few shots, answer the question, then back. Got it?”
Belle agrees, giving the guys a little wave as we head out of camp.
We walk in silence for about ten minutes before we reach a little vista overlooking Lake Hemet. The sun has almost reached the ridge on the far side. “Does this work?” I ask, but she keeps walking. “Where are you going?”
“There’s a market down the street,” she answers, waving for me to follow. “I want a soda. Come on. I’ll buy you one too.”
“So generous of you,” I retort.
“Well, I won ten bucks from Nova because of you, so I guess I owe you a little gratitude.”
I come to a sudden halt. “Wait . . . What?”
“Catch up, slowpoke. Or no soda.”