The steep trail near the top of the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway was covered in inches of spongy fallen needles and peppered with ankle-twisting pine cones. It was also shady, which felt remarkable after the first seven miles of the grueling Cactus to Clouds hike offered little more than a brittlebush leaf’s worth of relief.
I had already hiked up 7,549 vertical feet and still had about 3,000 to go to the top of Mount San Jacinto, a granite crag towering just west of Palm Springs, Calif.
For this, my third Cactus to Clouds hike, I had chosen a mid-November day, and the conditions were perfect. The 22-mile hike slopes continuously, relentlessly uphill for its first 16 miles, rising from the desert floor to the 10,834-foot summit, then six miles and 2,400 vertical feet down to the top of the tram, culminating in a ride back down that’s well worth the $14 ticket.
I started my trek near the Palm Springs Art Museum at an elevation of 482 feet just after sunrise at 6:41 a.m., carrying enough water to last until the first water source, a ranger station at 8,400 feet, and I had packed several jackets to deal with the wild temperature swings from bottom to top.
People have a variety of reasons to attempt Cactus to Clouds: It’s one of the most biodiverse day hikes in the country. It’s an unusual wilderness experience on the edge of an urban area. But maybe above all, there’s the sheer audacity of the hike. In my previous ascents, each following a significant emotional or physical trauma — diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, divorce, completion of treatment for Stage 3 breast cancer — I was motivated by the idea that committing myself to this challenge would leave me with little energy to feel sorry for myself. And if I made it? Well, that was proof I could handle anything.