Scenic Silverwood Lake, alive
with boating activity.
Who is that vision of loveliness
typing away on her Pocketmail?
I'm not sure, but stay upwind.
We awoke to the sound of cows mooing in the distance. The trail snakes along the mountains
just south of the Mojave, but there is a little protected valley before the desert called
Summit Valley that looks to be irrigated and has many properties and ranches that resemble
a quilt from the ridge above. We hiked for a few miles before deciding to stop at the
Summit Valley General Store for some refreshments.
It was early on Sunday morning, but the store was open, as it caters to people on their way to Silverwood Lake. Thank goodness, because we were ready for some treats not found in our packs. The owner of the store, Larry, goes out of his way to stock items that appeal to hikers. He is a staunch conservative, (is there any other type in San Bernardino County?) has views on almost every subject, likes to tease, and is just plain all around good fun. He will also take your picture for his hiker log and will weigh your pack too. We enjoyed our all-too-brief respite with him, but had to head out.
Then it was on to Silverwood Lake. By the time we reached the overlook of the lake, it was alive with boating activity, or perhaps I should say power boating activity. I watched my "clients" in action (I analyze boating accidents for a living) and slowly walked the trail around the lake watching all the activity. Personal watercraft (jet skis) ski boats, some pulling skiers and inner tubes, noisily zipped around the lake, crisscrossing each other's paths. Party barges floated near the shoreline. Someone flipped violently off a tube and everyone in the boat screamed, "Bob, are you okay?" (Nothing a little traction won't cure, no doubt.) Well, from the looks of things on the lake, my job is secure. As we traversed to another arm of the lake, a jet ski race was taking place. I felt like the Grinch. The NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE! Where on this lake a person would go for a quiet day of fishing, I have no idea. The lake itself is very picturesque; the northern part lies in scrub oaks and the southern part is tucked against mountains lined with evergreens. After refreshing ourselves at the picnic area, we hiked on, climbing the hills to the west of the lake. We took a long look at the high San Bernardino Mountains before dropping over the ridge on our way to Cajon Pass.
We camped again right on the trail under a very bright moon and dreamed of all the junk food we would consume the following day.