The ever-changing PCT.

Bernie, a hiker from Cleveland, negotiates one of the many snow sections north of Apache Peak.

Views and panoramas to die for. I was expecting hot, arid and dry desert in southern California but it is continuing to surprise me. Sand gives way to scrub, surrendering to rocky outcrops reminding me of old western movies. Then, I climb to 8000 feet and walk through pine forest with flowers, straining to see a horizon many days walking in the distance. Heat like I have never experienced changes to a chill in the mountains as I pull on hat, gloves and a down jacket and wake up to ice on the tent. It's a constantly moving and changing scene that continues to catch me out.

For the last 2 days I have walked from highway 74 (not the most romantic of locations - I apologise), to a place called Saddle Junction in the San Jacinto Mountains. I had been warned by some of the park rangers that there was still snow about in places, mainly on the north facing slopes. My ice axe and crampons were still back at Base HQ (relatives in San Jose), as were many of my hiking companions.

However, I and some fellow hikers decided to walk rather than wait for 3 or so days for them to be posted. The first night at Fobes Saddles (around 6000 feet), I was with an American woman called Bernie and several other guys as we watched a cloud bank rolling towards us like a charging bull. The guys decided (badly) to continue on and up. Myself and Bernie retreated down a couple of hundred feet to the relative safety of a clearing in some woods.

At 8.00pm I stood outside the tent and watched, amazed and dumbstruck at the roaring storm that was flying past a couple of hundred feet above me like a torrent of water at a rapids. At 02.00am it finally rested and I managed to get some sleep. I surveyed a sand blasted tent and equipment that I had left under the fly sheet in the morning, everything covered in a fine layer of dust and grit. Storms, it would appear, are being part of the deal here.

I walked 11 miles the following day, climbing and dipping relentlessly like a leaf on a fluctuating breeze. One minute I gasped and sweated in heat, the next I pulled on extra clothing because of the cold. From Fobes Saddle to an increasingly distance Saddle Junction, I tentatively made my way through 6 foot snow drifts that littered the trail. For the last 2 miles the PCT appeared and vanished under the snow as the sun began to set. 11 miles took 11 hours. At 08.00pm I finally staggered down the Devils Slide Trail to Idyllwild, somehow managing to erect my tent and climb, exhausted and filthy into my sleeping bag, too tired even to wash.

And I loved every single second of it . . .