For years, as I flew past on the Palm Springs tram, I yearned to personally inspect the diverse ecological zones. Now they are reverberating in my memory. After reading so much about it on this forum, I was determined to do Skyline. OK, to TRY Skyline, but not die trying. This time I actually made it.
How to describe the stunning vistas and exquisite examinations of this glorious journey? I can't. You just have to go do it yourself, so there! Neener, neener, ha-ha. I kept pondering how things would alter with the seasons. I guess I'll have to go see for myself.
I may have been the first person up the trail, at about half past midnight, and also the last one to complete it, around 3:30 PM. Ellen, Bluerail, Fern, Nickolai and every person I met all passed me. Surely my 15 hours on the trail qualify me as the one who enjoyed it the most that day.
I'd been advised that extreme weather possibilities add to the complexity of a Skyline journey. There are only 2 months of the year recommended for Skyline Newbies: October and sometime in spring. I was much too excited to wait another half a year. I recently discovered that a full moon hides behind the ridge WAY before dawn, so I was targeting the weekend afterward, 10-15-11. It was dubious whether any racing regulars from the forum could bear to accompany anyone as slow as I am. Instead, I coerced my usual hiking buddy into doubling as my guide and photographer, and also tripling as my sherpa. To speed me up, he was my Support Vehicle, carrying most of my water. Some of you may recognise him. We each got about ½ liter of gatorade, plus 6 liters of water. Besides drinking, I use an external cooling system, purging fewer electrolytes.
For strenuous ventures, temperature has a big impact on me. The temperature forecast in Palm Springs was about 70-95. UGH! I chose to begin my hike in the cool of the night, although darkness frustrates cameras and reduces scenery. I heard Skyline Virgins often take 12 hrs, an average of 750' elevation per hour. The rule of thumb is 3 degrees for every 1,000' elevation gain, but up at the tram they predicted 52-67 degrees F. To calculate departure time, all I have to do is ... um? Well, provided I get halfway up by dawn, it should be between the two Lows by then: near 60F. OK. We'll start at 7am - 6hrs = 1:00 AM. It's a 2.5 hr drive from San Diego. If we leave the house by 10:30 we're golden. Better shoot for 10 PM. Only Saturday (Fri night) fit both schedules. Home from work by 6pm leaves 4 whole hours to eat dinner, pack the car, get a good night's rest, eat a hearty breakfast and S***. Nobody warned me about the construction on Interstate 10. I began to suspect the hike itself would be easier than my planning.
We made it to the Museum parking lot about 12:30 AM. My bladder and I blazed past a large group just gearing up, and took off uphill. Even in the dark it took quite a while to rise past all the prohibitive signs and locate a spot for my trusty orange shovel that would not be exposed to the advancing headlamps below me. I had a light, but preferred the moonlight because it was easier to see a wide area; like every time the trail diverged. The museum trail was much clearer than the Ramon Rd. start, but as my guide assured me, all roads go up. When my vision is obscured, other senses have more impact. I delighted in the scents of the trail, and the Harley serenade from the American Heat Rally enhanced the excitement.
Sometime after the picnic tables I took my first power nap, on some cushy granite, while my photographer enjoyed the moon, stars and city lights. I noticed that my naps got more frequent as the jaunt progressed. Suddenly there was 4300! Soon after, the edge of the earth began to glow. Dawn in the desert often causes horizontal bands of color as beautiful as any rainbow. From deep red at the horizon, it diffused through yellow and green to purple and blue then black. Rays of golden light, centered on the approaching sun, were stabbing up through those color bands, all across the east. The hillsides accompanying us began to absorb hues of their own, rather than moonlit shades of grey. By now we were able to see to brilliant lights of the tram station ahead, and the moon was still far above the top of the ridge. As the first direct beams attacked us, we saluted our old pal San Gorgonio across the way.
At this point my right knee made a polite request for some brace. It felt good to air out the boots for a moment anyway. All reasonably priced footwear is too wide for my feet, so I had one pair of liners and 2 pair of heavy socks to preserve stability. It was so hot that someone even bared his chest and let his fluorescent legs see the light for the first time in years.
Above Flatrock, the thigh-high manzanita radiated hot misery. I left Smokin Sally basking pipeless, and struggled on to my next nap. By then I was nearly incoherent with exhaustion, so my partner propped me on a steep slope in a sliver of shade. It was reassuring to recall that the final tram of the night would wait for us until 9:45 PM.
Soon the cables of the tram appeared, and my knee brace switched legs for the traverse. The chutes were ominous enough dry. I had regained sufficient humor to make lame jokes with a sapling. One last nap at Coffman's crag got me, admittedly grubby, to the notch. We recognized Nickolai, just returning from his C2C, and joined him for an obligatory Skyline Virgin's beer. We actually made it back to our car before sunset!
Loud & proud, I am now a Skyliner. Thanks to my fabulous Support Vehicle, I succeeded in sleeping my way to the top.
on Saturday 
I love your trip reports -- keep them coming 