Re-emphasize the mud
I am jealous when I read about an upcoming adventure like this. I hope you have a great time but there is one hazard that can, depending upon how much and how long ago we have had rain, bring the whole thing to a very bad halt.
This is intended to be semi-humorous but understand I also laugh at America's Funniest Home Videos.
This is our mud, a seldom-encountered phenomenon where the nearly-perfect hard-packed surface absorbs enough moisture from recent rains to create MTB hell. Almost all of the desert that flanks SE of the Bradshaw Mountains exhibit the problem. Not everywhere, and that is how we get suckered into getting nice and remote before we find it blocking our passage.
It's not deep, well... sometimes, but it is stiiicky! It instantly clings to tires and soon after, every part of the bike that needs to move smoothly but now is packed-solid. You can't push the bike. You can barely carry it because it will seem to double it's weight - the mud not content to deposit only itself. It brings along rocks, sticks, and the occasional unfortunate small creature-shaped statue. Then there are your shoes (and ankles, and calves, and don't for the love of God fall down). They soon become elephant bootie knock-offs and unable to find purchase in what's underfoot, so you'll look like an inebriated first-time ice-skater.
When I ran into this stuff (the first time; I never learn), I mistakenly thought the correct reaction was to push-on and get clear of it. Wrong, Shimano-breath. This was between Table Mesa and Boy Scout in a lowland basin that developed untold acres of the stuff. So it was carry the bike and attached terrain back to firmer ground (why didn't I notice how deep my tracks were becoming?). Next, search everywhere for a stick without needles protruding from it (could I use my multitool, tire levers, fingernails?), and scrape-off between tires and frame enough so it would reluctantly roll. Another endearing characteristic of this stuff is that it seems like porridge as it goes on but like concrete coming off.
I aborted, pushed because the drive-train was sounding like a ball-mill, and got us back to the car. At home, the brushes and garden hose got everything off (except for the tan stains that remain to this day). Recalling all that, I can only shudder to think about someone finding a big mud patch further into the wild and more remote BCT stretches.
So check out the helpful posts here and see if you can determine the likelihood of rain in the days prior to the ride. Most of all, I wish you a most excellent adventure.