Karin and I left the tram about 5:30 PM on Friday for a night hike up San Jacinto. We headed up the Sid Davis drainage and saw deer on the ranger trail as we headed towards the old Tamarack trail. Since I know that everyone is tired of my posts about demonic cougars
I wore covertable pants and attached the bottoms before we headed through the brush. Once we reached the main trail, we were treated to the moon rising and lightning flashes in clouds covering the mountains across the desert floor. The wind picked up as we gained elevation.
We scrambled up the summit rocks and found a relatively protected flat area out of the wind. The moon was so bright, it was like having a intense night-light above us. I used this opportunity to test my 30 degree bivvy sack. It failed miserably and the wind howled all night so I slept little. We clambered up on the highest rock to watch the sunrise. It was breath-taking, both literally and figuratively. As we dropped down off the rock to pack up, we saw the pyramidal shadow of San Jacinto to the west. Amazing. It was wonderful to finally intentionally spend a night on San Jacinto
We ran into many of the regulars on our way down -- Hengst Joe, Doreen and Indio Joe. Had a nice chat with Craig while waiting in the boarding area. We were the only two people in the tram on the way down, so were spared the music.
I remembered that the weather report for Sunday listed unusually cool temperatures allowing for a Skyline hike. Ate, headed home, bathed, napped, ate, then went to bed. Got up at 3 AM (briefly reconsidered) then headed back out to Palm Springs. I was pleasantly surprised to find Tina, Steve, Patti and Fern in the museum parking lot. Hustled to get my stuff together so I could at least start with them.
It soon became clear that I wasn't having a good day. I encouraged them to go ahead but they kindly slowed the pace a bit, waited for me, and took a long fuel break at Flat Rock. Lo and behold -- St. Florian flew down to restock the cache. When he returned to Flat Rock, we started up again. He stayed with me as I crawled up to the traverse where everyone was waiting -- thanks St Florian! Being in the shade of the pine tress with the breeze was wonderful but I could not lift my pace. Reminded me of hiting the wall when I ran marathons.I considered calling this post "a bad day from Flat Rock"
It was a relief to reach Grubbs notch -- even more so to drink Sam Adams Octoberfest at the tram bar.
Thanks to the greyhounds (especially my pain sister Tina) for taking care of the old blond mare and to St. Florian for shuttling us back to the museum. Thanks also to Karin for the gift of her friendship.
Miles of smiles,
Ellen
Before you know it, we'll be sharpening up those crampons once again! 
