Skyline Trail
By Robie Madrigal
(This article appeared in the Los Angeles Times Outdoor Section on November 23, 2004)
Ah, the infamous, hike-at-your-own-risk Skyline Cross Country Ridge Route, also known as Cactus-to-Clouds, a 10-mile hike that has over 8500 feet of elevation again—one that passes through four climatic zones. It’s classified as one of the most extreme “day hikes” in the United States, and although it’s a fairly well-established and easy-to-follow trail, save for a few sections, it’s not officially recognized by the BLM or California Department of Forestry, organizations that frown upon those who hike Skyline. In fact, BLM agents and forest rangers and other law enforcement agencies strongly discourage its use, because dozens of hikers have been rescued, and some have even died, on Skyline.
..better to bring something you don't need than not to need something you don't bring. 
Those who have died or who have been rescued on the trail have lacked some of the ten hiking essentials—items that can save your life, so don’t forget to bring them. My hiking philosophy is: it’s better to bring something that you don’t need, than to need something that you don’t bring. And even if the potentially life-saving essentials slow you down a bit, that’s a small price to pay in the event that you actually have to use them.
You can pick up the trail from two points: either at the end of Roman Road or at end the Palm Springs Desert Museum’s parking lot. Both trails intersect near a set of picnic tables, where most people turn back, and for good reason. Once there, you’ll want to proceed North, provided you have the fortitude to successfully hike Skyline. I’ve hiked from both points, and from my experience, the Museum Trail is much steeper, whereas the trail from Roman Road climbs gradually.
I started from the Museum Trail around 6:30 in the morning on Saturday, November 6—a very late start. I had planned to hit the trail at 5:00am so that I could try out my new headlamp, a Princeton Tec Corona, which has eight LED bulbs that you can dim with the press of a button—a neat feature. Initially, my goal was to hike to the snow level, then turn back, figuring that I’d surely encounter that which most (sane) hikers dread: ice. (And, yes, there was plenty of it). Near the halfway point, however, I decided to turn back because I didn’t feel energized that morning. I think it was due to my heavy pack, which had about ten pounds of extra gear, plus I didn’t carbo-load the day before, so I was experiencing low energy levels. Now that I think about it, I probably shouldn’t have had that extra glass of oak-flavored Merlot the night before while having dinner with my brother at his home in Palm Springs. But hey, the Merlot sure complemented the lobster tails that were sautéed with lemon and wine and butter. Me—an epicurean? Of course not.
On my way back down, near the warning sign that states (in dry, you’ll-be-sorry prose) that people have died and have been rescued on Skyline and that there are rattle snakes, ticks and scorpions (oh, my!) on the route, I ran into a rugged-looking fellow, with wild salt-and-pepper hair (some of which stuck to his sweat-beaded brow), piercing blue eyes, and a ruddy (and somewhat leathery) complexion that looked as though it had never had an SPF agent applied to it. He carried with him a small pack, a green fleece sweater, several of bottles of (Dasani®) water, and a few (smashed) cheese sandwiches. I asked the seemingly ill-prepared fellow—his name was Eugene, by the way—if he planned to hike to the Tram and, if so, had he had ever hiked Skyline successfully before, to which he replied, "No," in a light-hearted, unconcerned tone—one that indicated ignorance of Skyline’s many dangers. At that point I thought about wishing him “good luck” but instead—and with some trepidation—said, “Do you mind if I join you?” Not at all…Let's go,” he said enthusiastically, apparently confident that we’d bag Skyline.And so were off, at a relatively brisk pace. On our way up we passed some hikers, all of them loaded with gear, who were eating lunch at about the 6000ft. level, near some giant granite boulders where, if necessary, you could pitch a tent, since the boulders are surprisingly flat and smooth. The hikers, clad in North Face gear, were also hiking to the Tram. Politely, they mentioned—warned us, actually—that we'd surely need crampons, due to icy conditions, and that if we couldn’t cross the ice chutes near Coffman's Cragg, they would help us by roping down their crampons to us. We thanked them for the kind offer, though we knew it wasn’t likely that they’d come to our rescue, considering that they exuded that “we’re-inexperienced” vibe. They never caught up to us—this despite having taken three 10 minute breaks. I'm sure they had to ascend at night, because it was dusk when we reached the Tram area. We also saw a lady—she was probably in her late- to mid-fifties—who passed us at an Olympic-like pace. She had prominent leg- and stomach-muscles and a stern, determined countenance—one that that screamed, “Get out of my way.” “Do you have crampons,” I asked. “No,” she said, seemingly annoyed by the question. “Do you think you'll encounter ice?” I continued the questioning. “Yes, but I'll manage,” she said confidently while hiking past us at a pace that put us to shame. She wore shorts and a mid-riff exposing shirt—the kind of attire that's well suited for the first part of the trail, where you're hiking through desert. For the last part of Skyline, however, when you're trekking through snow and, occasionally, ice, it's the type of clothing that will lead to hypothermia, frostbite, or worse.
There was a great deal of snow and, in some parts, ice on the upper sections of the trail. We crossed an chute, located below (and to the West) of Coffman's Cragg, where I started to worry because I lost my footing several times. There was about six- to-eight inches of hard snow on this section, underneath which I could see ice-covered rocks, which were slippery as hell. I took small steps and tried (as best as I could) to dig in with each step. Lean, dig in, take small steps—that was my mantra while crossing the ice chute. One misstep, and you're history, to fall back on cliché. (Last year, a 22-year-old male hiker slipped on this part of the trail; he fell two hundred feet before his head hit a rock and exploded, leaving a pulpy mass of blood and brain matter for his rescuers to collect for the closed-casket funeral.) “The side walks in Canada are more dangerous than this,” said Eugene, jokingly, as the steam from his breath billowed into the thin, oxygen-deprived air. It was a light-hearted comment that, while in jest, nevertheless infused me with much-needed confidence and, to some degree, also reassured me that we'd make it out of the situation, alive, and without injury. I'm not going lie—I was scared. Big time scared. In fact, I started to pray at this time—asking Him to grant us safe passage across the ice chutes. I seriously thought about turning back; however, the thought of hiking back down, and how doing so would kill my feet and toes and quads, provided me with the incentive to press on.
Since it was getting late into the afternoon—it was about 4:30pm—more of the snow, which was already hard and crunchy, was starting to re-freeze, so it was either: hike through some ice on the way up or, alternatively, hike back down through a lot of ice—at night—using headlamps. Needlessly to say, it wasn’t an all-too-difficult decision to make.
We climbed for about another hour, and soon we heard the humm of the Tram’s gears, as well as the informational lecture visitors hear while riding in the Tram car up to the top—noises that delighted me. We also noticed that the sun's departing rays were illuminating the top of the mountain (which at that moment was basking in a smoky-red glow), so I knew we were getting closer to the upper Tram station. After another ten or fifteen minutes of climbing, we heard someone whistle. It was Eugene's wife, who, along with her sister and son, had spent the entire day at the Tram, waiting for Eugene, who told her the hike would take about six hours. Because of the snow and ice, it took us about nine hours. Not bad, considering that we didn’t know the route, plus we also experienced less-than-favorable (read: icy) trail conditions.
Skyline terminates near the upper Tram station's ramp—the one that day visitors have trouble ascending, usually after a mere ten-minute stroll through Long Valley. Once we made it to Long Valley, I was so pumped up with adrenaline from the sense of accomplishment that I walked up the ramp in less than three minutes, and at a pace that surprised me. I was elated that I had successfully hiked Skyline—the trail I had spent all summer reading about—and I had done so without the benefit of going with someone who knew the route.
I read that the upper sections of Skyline, where the elevation gain is greatest, is the most challenging part, but, for me, I didn't find that to be the case. In fact, I seemed to have had a burst of energy near the end—the snow, coupled with the cold air (what little of it there was), apparently invigorated me, so the last push to the top wasn't so bad, as some people say. Next time I should be able to hike Skyline in seven hours or less, because I plan to go ultra light and take fewer breaks.
I paid nine bucks for a one-way Tram ride down. I knew they'd probably ask for my ticket since I had my pack fully loaded, so it was rather obvious that I had hiked in. I was also in full hiking gear. I thought about calling a cab to take me to the Palm Springs Desert Museum, where my journey began. However, once I got down to the lower Tram station, I decided that I’d save money by walking to the Museum—a decision I very soon regretted, because about half way down Tramway Road, I almost collapsed from exhaustion. After all, I had been up since 4:30am, had hiked for almost nine hours, and I had carried a forty-pound pack nearly 10 miles, through desert and, then, ice and shin-deep snow. So I called my brother and had him send a taxi—a ride that cost me $12.90, plus a dollar tip. (I wasn’t in a generous mood!)
The scenery on Skyline is mesmerizing, and despite its reputation for having the sharpest escarpment in the U.S., the trail has quite a few ups and downs, especially near the saddles. It's quite an experience to start a hike in the middle of a dry, dusty, rock-strewn desert, one peppered with prickly bushes and scalpel-sharp barrel cacti, and finish it by trudging through shin-deep snow in an Alpine environment where the air is crisp and cold and the snow-covered ground glistens in the sun’s amber rays.
Even though the hike was grueling, and it's dangerous to do this time of year, I'm ready to do it again. Like next weekend. I feel as though luck is on my side. After all, we—that is Eugene and I—beat the odds, because we didn't know the route and, more importantly, we didn't have crampons, which we were told we needed to hike to the Tram successfully. Maybe we were lucky, or just foolish, or maybe a combination of the two, but whatever the case may be, we made it.
The Palm Springs Skyline trial
The Palm Springs Skyline Trail to the Aeriel Tramway is 11 miles long with over 8000 ft. of elevation gaIin. If you go to the top of Mt San Jacinto it is 23 miles long with 10,500 ft of gain. Other names for this trail are the cactus to clouds trail, chino trail or outlaw trail. Its like going from Mexico [Sonoran Desert] to Canada [Alpine Zone] first palms and cacti, then scrub chaparral, followed by Manzanita, then Oaks to Ponderosa and Pinyon Pine, This year [2002] I have hiked this trail 54 times [as of Dec 7] and 126 times altogether. there is one girl who has done it over 200 times. My name is Cyril [Cy] Kaicener from Rialto, California age 65. I hike about 1000 miles per year which adds up to 40,000 miles since age 25. This is how I have been able to keep my weight around 135 lbs. At elevation 1750 ft. after1300 ft. elevation gain, there is a metal sign put up by the police and forest service warning first timers not to attempt this trail by themselves unless accompanied by someone who has done it before, and are carrying one and a half gallons of water. Its best to get a predawn start. I advise doing at least 4000 ft gain a week before to get into condition. Eventually you get to a dry waterfall area [rocky creek] This is near 6000 ft. and is about three quarters of the way up. Here you reach your first Oak Tree and can see the pines above you. The last 2000 ft. are very steep. Hike up about 1000 ft. to the bottom of a prominent rock castle where you traverse right crossing several gullies at around 7200 ft. elevation. Here you get lots of welcome shade from numerous Pine trees. A sharp rock tooth known as Coffmans Crag now comes clearly into view. Head straight for it. Hiking times can vary from 4 to 10 hours. Finally you gain about 700 ft. more to top out at Long Valley. You will need a permit from the ranger station at 8415 ft. If you are heading for San Jacinto at 10,800 remember that the last tram is at 9.45 P.M. Check on the time.
Rescue No. 1
Three years ago a guy started hiking in July at 10AM [As per P.E], The tram was closed due to maintenance and repairs. He tried to return the same way, and got off trail. He must have run low on water and lit a signal fire to attract attention in Palm Springs to his plight. He started a forest fire and was rescued by helicopter. [more...]