Carrying a Bag of... Rocks? Yes, Rocks.

June 1: During the night, the wind picked up, so this morning was quite breezy. Not a "knock you over" kind of wind, but definitely a "make sure your hat is on tight" kind of wind.

Tradja and Jess packed up camp before I did, but I wasn't far behind them on the trail. I planned to fill up my water needs for the day at the water cache a little ways ahead, and use the water tank if the water cache was empty. (Rumor had it that the water tank for fire suppression purposes was pretty nasty, and only a water source of last resort.)

When I arrived, Tradja, Jess, and Go-Go were filling up from the water tank. "No water cache?" I asked. They didn't see any. The water did look nasty. Green, foul-looking stuff. I thought I had enough to push on, maybe to find a better water source than that if I rationed it carefully.

We traded stories for a short while, then I pushed on again, finding the water cache not 50 feet further along the trail. *heh* There wasn't much left, only a couple of gallons, and I took as much as I felt I needed to make it to the next reliable water source. I figured the others would see it when they started hiking again and could decide if they wanted to throw out the fire water and replace it with cache water or not then.

According to my guide, we would pass Sawmill Campground in a couple of miles, at mile marker 499.2. Just 0.8 miles after that would be the 500 mile point for the trail, and I hoped there was a marker in the trail marking the location. I was determined to make one if there wasn't, however. Five hundred is a particularly big, round number, and it needed to be honored properly.

The trail was nice and shaded much of the way, and the slopes covered with a thick layer of miner's lettuce. (Yes, I realize that the photo above does not show miner's lettuce. It was taken earlier in the morning. I didn't take a photo of the miner's lettuce, however.) After passing Sawmill Campground, I checked the time. At the pace I was walking, I should cover 0.8 miles in about 20 minutes. But the miner's lettuce grew everywhere, and I grew increasingly concerned that I wouldn't be able to find rocks to build a 500-mile marker if I needed to.

So I paused at a small clearing where I could see the rocks on the ground, and filled up a bag with rocks. Just in case rocks weren't readily available at what I thought was the 500-mile mark, I'd have them in my pack ready to go! I had nearly finished collecting the rocks when Tradja, Jess, and Go-Go caught me in the act.

"What are you doing?" they asked.

"Picking up rocks," I told them.

"No, really, what are you doing?" they asked.

"Really, I'm picking up rocks," I replied. I held up the bag of rocks. It wasn't a clear bag, but you could see the sharp edges of the rocks pushing against the sides of the bag.

"Why are you collecting a bag of rocks?" they asked.

"My pack wasn't heavy enough," I replied, straight-faced.

Go-Go cracked up at this, telling me that that was "funny as hell, and you just made my journal entry for that!"

Is that all it takes to make it into someone's journal? Carrying a bag of rocks on the trail?

Then I told them the real reason for the rocks--my concern that I wouldn't be able to find them at the 500-mile marker on the trail, and by golly, I was going to plant a marker if there wasn't one there already. So I decided to quarry for rocks about half a mile early where rocks were plentiful rather than risk not finding any up ahead. Which made sense, but Go-Go kept going on about that being the craziest thing he's ever seen someone carry on the trail. "A bag of rocks! That's funny as hell!"

I continued hiking with the three of them, checking my watch for the optimal place for the 500-mile mark. Tradja and Jess fell behind Go-Go and I a little ways, and I finally announced to Go-Go, "This is where I think the 500 mile point on the trail is." That section of trail was narrow and slightly overgrown, however, and didn't really provide a lot of space for me to lay out a "500" in rocks. So we walked ahead, looking for a wide spot in the trail to set up the marker.

It only took another minute or so of walking to find the place. I took off my pack, took out the bag of rocks, and emptied it on the trail. Tradja and Jess walked up as I was putting the arranging the number on the trail, taking pictures of me setting it up. Go-Go kept saying the whole thing was funny as hell.

Jess asked how I decided where to set up the marker. "The trail was wide enough to hold my message," I told her.

She laughed. "That doesn't sound very scientific!"

No, indeed it was not. Really, the marker is just an estimate. A fairly good educated guess, I felt, probably accurate to within a quarter mile, but I didn't really have any way to get a more accurate measurement than that.

I finished setting up the marker, joking that we'd probably find another one 200 feet up the trail anyhow. We walked up the trail, crossing a small dirt road about a quarter-mile later, which we expected to see just past the 500-mile mark. It looked like I had placed the 500-mile marker perfectly!

But when I walked up on the dirt road, I saw Avo there, setting the last pinecone in place for his own 500-mile mark. It was an impressive marker, probably three feet tall, entirely made out of giant pinecones. He even added an exclamation mark after the 500, so it read, "500!" It was beautiful. It was art.

I called back to the others behind me. "Well, isn't this awkward. There is another 500 mile marker," I told them. It was a little past the 500 mile point of the trail, but such a large marker would have never fit on the trail anyhow. It needed the space that a dirt road could provide.

Avo said he felt there should be a 500 mile marker, which is why he set it up in pinecones, not realizing that I had just set one up with rocks not five minutes down the trail from his location.

Jess walked up to his 500! and said, "There's an easy solution to this. Just take this dot from the exclamation mark." She walked up to it and put her foot on the pinecone. "And move it over a bit." She kicked the pinecone lightly, like a football, "So it reads 500.1."

We all laughed, except Avo, who might have thought we were crazy and not really sure if we could be trusted. We all took photos of the pinecones that now read 500.1, then continued our hike.

Not really much else happened during the hike. I did my longest day of hiking yet--23 miles--and rolled into a small hostel known as Hiker Town. It's a cute little place, set up with a western theme. In the hiker lounge, someone had left behind what looked like a birthday cake, which I split with another hiker. I took a shower, used the Internet, and relaxed. Only three hikers stayed there for the night, a nice, quiet night for relaxing.

Ripping Apples In Two With Your Bare Hands

Once "the boys" went to sleep at the Andersons, sleep came a lot better. I woke up, anxious to leave. Ate the cereal from my pack rather than the pancakes the Andersons typically cook up each morning in the hopes it would get me on the trail sooner. Waiting for food could slow a guy down. (And eating my own would help lighten my pack.)

Before we could leave, the Andersons wanted a photo of everyone who visited, so they started rounding up folks who were planning to leave but had not yet gotten their photo taken. Joe Anderson describe one person who needed their photo taken as "the white guy with a beard," which was funny since almost all hikers are white, and nearly all of the men sport beards. Basically, he could have referred to almost anyone.

A large sheet pinned up on the garage door said "Casa de Luna" on it, and all hikers were expected to draw themselves into the mural. I pulled out my signature stamp and tried to copy the image as best I could, then at the last minute adding a talking bubble with the words, "Gwita Morka!"--my version of saying "Good Morning" in German with an American accent. If Charmin happened by, I figured she'd think it hilariously funny. If she didn't, everyone else would scratch their heads at the strange words, and I'd think that was hilariously funny. =)

Some hikers were still laid out in the yard from the night before, recuperating from hangovers or something, I suppose. Finally, everyone was assembled for the photos, and four of us stood in front of the Casa de Luna banner and got our photos. Just as the photo was being snapped, Terri turned around and mooned us. I suppose that was her way of making everyone smile, and I'll admit, I did laugh, but that sort of thing could seriously backfire. The photo could have captured images of shock and horror.

A few others then had their photos taken, then Avo mooned them in returned. Ha ha, funny. Then some folks wanted photos of the Andersons, and they both posed, mooning us. That's just the kind of place this is. A lot of bare bottoms around that morning.

Finally, it was time to go. I got a ride out to the trail by 9:30 or so. It was a bit later than I had hoped, and I could have gotten there faster if I just left and started walking. Terri hugged everyone goodbye and good luck on the trail, then I started walking. I had escaped "The Vortex." It took me about 22 hours, but I was back on the trail.

I started the trail with Thump Thump (the sound that an indecisive squirrel in the middle of the road makes), Carmen, Hasty, Day-Glo, Dreams, and Avo, but hiked largely alone since I didn't really know any of those people. I hadn't met any of them until the day before at the Andersons.

The weather was getting warm, growing hotter with each passing hour. A new high was suppose to be reached that afternoon, and I finally stopped at the Red Carpet Cache for lunch, as did everyone else. It's called the Red Carpet Cache because a few large, red carpets were laid out for hikers to sit on near the water cache. I largely stayed to myself, trying to nap, with a surprisingly number of bugs flitting about. They weren't biting, but they were annoying enough that I pulled out my mosquito net and put it on.

A few hours later, Tradja, Jess, and Go-Go showed up, adding to the large group of resting hikers, but most of the others finally poking along as well leaving those three. I had been sitting out there for several hours already beating the heat of the day was ready to leave again myself, but I really wanted to chat with the new hikers who I did know a lot better, so I loitered a bit longer.

Tradja pulled out an apple, ready to eat it, when Jess stopped him. "Hey, you should rip it in half!"

There's a backstory to this little suggestion. It started way back on Mount Baden-Powell, when I was hiking with Charmin, and she asked if I wanted to share an apple with her. "Sure," I said, expecting her to cut it in half. She handed me half the apple, but I hadn't seen her pull out a knife or even have time to cut in half, and the cut was so clean and perfect, it took me by surprise. So I asked how she cut in half, and she told me that she ripped in half. 

"With your bare hands?" I asked. Surely I was misunderstanding something in her accented English.

"Yes," she said. She made motions, as if ripping an imaginary apple in half. "It's not a big deal."

Maybe not to her, but I was impressed. I didn't realize one could rip an apple in half. I've never known anyone who's ripped an apple in half. I really wished I had watched her rip that apple in half and could see for myself. I didn't doubt her story for a minute, but I really wanted to see that happen.

"Boy," I told her, "if I can't get a lid off a jar, I'm going to get you to do it!" She must have hands like Hercules!

Fast forward a week to Agua Dulce, and I told this story about Charmin ripping an apple in two to Tradja and Jess, and they were just as fascinated with it as myself. Tradja said that we should all get apples and try ripping it in two--in private, of course, to make sure we could really do it before embarrassing ourselves publicly if we couldn't. But none of us had apples available, so there were no ripping of the apples in Agua Dulce.

But now fast forward to today, and Tradja and Jess and resupplied, and Tradja was about to eat an apple. Jess remembered the story, and stopped him. "Rip the apple in two!" The rest of us huddled around. "Yes, rip the apple in two!"

Go-Go started the video on his camera going, and Tradja was about to rip the apple in two. "I thought we were supposed to do this in private first," he said. 

Too late for that now.....

Tradja put his thumbs in the top of the apple, pulled, and the apple ripped in two. The apple looked like it was precision sliced in two, a clean break, and the rest of us cheered the results. It really worked!

I continued hiking, pushing on alone. I caught up with some of the hikers ahead of me, scaring Thump Thump half to death when she didn't realize I was behind her. The trail crept upwards into trees, and the trees provided a welcome bit of shade, but campsites and water were hard to find.

My guidebook described a water cache far ahead, and I pushed for that. If the water cache were dry, there was a water tank there as well used for fire suppression purposes I could drink from. I didn't need either of those sources, however. I found a small stream, unlisted in my water report, dribbling across the trail, and made use of that instead. I tanked up with water, then continued on, planning to stop at the first decent campsite I could find.

And I walked, and I walked, a couple of miles. The trail led across very steep hillsides, and I grew increasingly concerned that I wouldn't be able to find somewhere to camp. I might have to resort to camping directly on the trail, I thought. But I pushed on, finally seeing a break in the foliage to the right. I went up the side trail, perhaps 20 feet, where a small dirt road passed and lots of flat, clear areas made themselves available for camping. PERFECT!

I set up camp, cooked dinner, and watched the sun set. Just after sunset, I heard voices down on the trail. "This looks good," I heard a voice. A male voice. "Maybe there's something up there." It sounded like Tradja. Then I heard Jess's voice. Cool! I'd have company for the night! 

I shouted down to them, "Come on up! It's AWESOME up here!" And it was. 

"Tortuga!" came the reply, and Tradja and Jess scrambled up the slope, joining my little party of one.

They had a crazy story about running into a skunk a short while back with four baby skunks in tow. Tradja saw the momma skunk first, raising its tail and running for the two, and Tradja ran, calling out to Jess, "Run, Jessi, Run!" Once they escaped the angry momma, they crept up closer again and took videos of the five skunks meandering near the trail. How cool is that? I'm a little bummed I missed that myself.

The Andersons

May 30: Just 24 miles up the trail from the Saufleys, there's another hiker hangout known as Casa de Luna, where the Andersons live. From the scuttlebutt I've heard on the trail, this is more of a "party place" than the Saufleys. I'm not really into the party scene, but I've heard so much about the place, I wanted to see it for myself. It's part of the trail experience, so I planned to experience it.

I only had about ten miles to get to the road for the Andersons, so I wasn't in any particular rush to get moving. I still managed to start early enough to catch up with Karma, Detective Bubbles, Tradja, and Jess at the oasis. Karma, I don't think I've mentioned him before, but I first met him during my 2003 Appalachian Trail hike. We hadn't talked much on that trail, but it's always fun to see a familiar face from a long ago trail. Detective Bubbles is his wife, recently married, and instead of a honeymoon, decided to thru-hike the PCT together instead.

Calling the oasis a water cache would be something of an understatement. It did contain water, but it also held an ice chest full of cold sodas and beers. The grove had chairs set up for hikers to rest their weary feet, and decorations of skeletons, palm trees, pink flamingos, and even a Pooh bear decorated the area and gave it class. It was a pleasant little stop, and gave me time to chat with Karma and Detective Bubbles which I hadn't done much before then.

Then we continued on. I reached San Francisquito Road at the same time as Karma and Detective Bubbles, and we started down the road to the Andersons. It's about a mile off the trail, as we understood the directions, but we didn't have to hike for long before a pickup truck stopped and gave us a ride the rest of the way.

He dropped us off at a location that looked, to be perfectly honest, inhabited by rednecks. Couches rested on the front lawn, trash cans filled with empty beer cans littered the place, and walking around barefoot seemed like a dangerous proposition. Terri Anderson came out, giving the three of us a hug and wishing us a hearty welcome to Casa de Luna.

We got a tour of the facility, although I forget the fellow's name. He warned us to not "fraternize" with the other hikers until the tour was over, and to keep our hands and feet inside at all times. He took us behind the house, where we set down our packs, and led us through the house that looked like a bomb went off. Bodies could be found laying around in the heaps of junk--napping hikers, I hoped--and led us through a manzanita grove behind the house where hikers could set up camp.

A board leaning against a tree, we were told, was used to throw knives at the day before. I wondered if that was a good idea--I saw some evidence that hikers had set up camp behind it.

The tour over, we sat down on the lawn furniture in front of the house and chatted. Terri cooked hot dogs for everyone for lunch. They were charred, but a nothing that a healthy dose of ketchup and mustard couldn't cover up. I ate three of them. =)

Terri noted that it was the hottest day so far of the year, about 85 degrees in the shade.

It was a nice, quite conversation, but that ended when "the boys" arrived. Terri had warned us that "the boys" were quite excitable and loud, and the quiet would be gone when they got back from playing their Frisbee golf game. She was absolutely right. Much shouting, grunting, and cheering ensued. Photos were taken, beers were opened, and a gas mask for smoking pot came out. One hiker's watch alarm went off. It was set for 4:20, to make sure he didn't miss his "daily hit," I suppose.

I went inside and tried to find something to watch on television, finally settling on Kill Bill, Volume 1. Occasionally a hiker would pass through and complement me on my selection. (This never happened when I started Best In Show at the Saufleys. Hmm.....) But then several hikers wanted to watch some videos taken the year before of hikers wrestling in oil, so I went on the Internet and did a little work instead.

Most of the night, I hung out on the back porch, chatting with the more quiet people on the trail (and probably a little more sane and a lot less stoned), including Karma, Detective Bubbles, Tradja, and Jess.

The joke is that the Saufleys have a two night maximum that hikers are allowed to stay. The Andersons have a two night minimum. 

Eventually I headed off to sleep, kind of regretting to spend the entire night there. The Andersons are very nice people, but the "scene" was exactly as promised, and it really wasn't my kind of place. I'm a quieter and mellower kind of fellow.

The strange dreams continued. I dreamed that I got a job at a pizza place in the Seattle Center by the Space Needle, with two sister who owned the pizza joint but didn't have a clue what they were doing. They couldn't even agree on how many slices to cut a large pizza into. They needed help. Badly, and for some bizarre reason, I volunteered to help them get on their feet.

Then, just as I got off work, a small Canadian plane crashed into some trees outside. I'm not sure how I knew the plane came from Canada, and I don't know why it crashed or who was in it, because at that point, I woke up when the rowdy group in the front of the house cheered loudly about something. I bet the neighbors around here hate the Andersons. I don't know that that's a fact, but it would seem hard to believe they didn't. People do like to sleep at night, after all. =)

I Squeezed the Charmin!

May 29: I slept in late--I wasn't in any rush--and when I opened my eyes, I noticed one of the horses had walked right up next to our tent. The sleeping quarters were arranged so that there were several cots in a large tent. Kind of like small circus tents, although I chose one with a mesh netting that I could see through. Most of them were of a white cloth that you couldn't see through. I also selected a location away from the campfire (I was afraid that a group of hikers enjoying the campfire might keep me up at night), but that also happened to be near where the horses were located.

So it wasn't entirely shocking to wake up to see a horse looking in on the three of us. I shared quarters with Sticky Fingers and Go-Go. Sticky Fingers I had met briefly--perhaps for five or ten minutes--far back on the trail, while Go-Go I had never met at all. I wasn't even sure when he sneaked in last night. But Sticky Fingers was sleeping on the cot immediately next to the horse stall, and the white horse seemed to tower far above her.

I saw her stir a little bit, and thinking she was at least partially awake, I whispered to her, "Hey, it looks like you have a little friend over there." I pointed behind her. I can't imagine what she must have been thinking. Maybe she thought I saw a squirrel or chipmunk or something, but she turned over to look around, then she saw the horse. A gigantic creature, towering high above her, just a few feet away, and her eyes just about popped out with a muffled gasp. That was funny. Whatever she was expecting, that horse wasn't it! I laughed and laughed, giggling in my cot for the next half hour.

I took my time getting out of the Saufleys. I ate a bowl of cereal, and as I finished up Charmin dropped by asking if I wanted pancakes. I had totally forgotten, but the day before, she bought the makings for pancakes and hard-boiled eggs, but that there was too much for her to eat herself and that she expected me to help. I had completely forgotten, though, but I still felt like I could eat a little, so I followed her to the trailer and the small kitchen it provided where Charmin cooked up what she affectionately called "scrambled pancakes."

It was a honking big pancake--larger than I had hoped for--but it was so large, she had trouble flipping it over in one piece. It broke into several pieces, and I looked at it saying that I wasn't sure if it counted as a pancake anymore, which is when Charmin insisted, "No, it's a scrambled pancake." Ah, yes, indeed it was. =)

We didn't have any syrup for it, and Charmin suggested I could top it with cinnamon, sugar, and all sorts of options laying around, which I did. The scrambled pancakes tasted like pancakes, but admittedly, I really wanted the syrup that goes with it. It didn't seem like a real pancake without the syrup. *sigh*

I went back to pack up the rest of my belongings, which was hard. I felt sad leaving. The Saufleys place seemed so comfortable and nice, and it was tempting to spend a second night there. But really, I was here to hike, not take lots of unnecessary zero days. Sticky Fingers seemed to understand the feeling--wanting to stay, but wanting to get back on the trail as well.

After packing up, I walked up to Charmin's tent to say goodbye, which turned out to be a lot harder than imagined it would. I couldn't even remember when we first started hiking together, but it seemed like it had been at least a week now, and we got to become really good friends during that time. We walked through cold and snow, battled our way up Baden Powell, crossed desolate wildernesses together, and braved the dreaded roadwalks together. We even saved a dog. We'd been through a lot together, and was the single longest hiking partner I'd ever stayed with on any of my hikes.

We hugged goodbye (which even that made me laugh, when I remember her telling Amanda, "Please, don't squeeze the Charmin," and here I was, "squeezing" the Charmin). I told her to take care, and that I still expected her to pay me back the $5 so she'd better catch up with me at some point along the trail. =) Then I turned around and left. I'd miss Charmin's unique perspective on the trail. She certainly made hiking the PCT a lot more fun.

I was planning to walk back to the trail, but as I left the Saufleys, a car pulled up and a bunch of hikers jumped out with their groceries. John Deere was driving, and asked if I'd like a ride back to the trail. "Absolutely!" Save myself an unnecessary mile of walking.

Tradja and Jess were hiking by just as I was getting dropped off, and I joined them for the first part of the hike out of Agua Dulce. They eventually pulled ahead of me when I stopped at a register to flip through and read the entries. I noticed that Motor, who I met early on in the hike near Mount Laguna, had signed the register nine days earlier. I was kind of surprised to see how far ahead of me she's gotten. I wasn't going that slow, but she just seemed to zoom along at a crazy speed. Most of the familiar names were all within a few days of myself, however, and I hoped to catch some of them along the way. The bulk of the people I knew, however, were actually behind me now. Trail life, that's how it goes.

I stopped for lunch under a small bit of shade under a tree. It was the only shade I had seen for miles, and the day was hot and getting hotter. By 1:30, I was exhausted and stopped in the shade declaring a king-sized break for myself, but the joke seemed less funny without Charmin around. "Yeah, it's really just a lunch break if she's not around," I thought to myself.

The rest of the hike, I hiked alone. Tradja and Jess, I'm not sure how far ahead of me they hiked, but I didn't catch up to them again that evening before I stopped for the night. While rubbing my feet, the last bit of the Cyclonic blister finally fell off. I took pictures of the skin that used to make up the kangaroo pouch, just for full and accurate record keeping purposes. And I set up camp high on an exposed ridge despite a wind advisory in effect that night in the hopes that a stiff wind would help keep some of the bugs away. The bugs weren't biting, but they seemed especially thick during the hike today, and quite annoying. I'd rather live with a stiff wind than in a cloud of flying insects any day.

As I tried to go to sleep, I felt what seemed like little needles being jabbed into the bottom of my feet. I hadn't hiked particularly far or long, and my feet felt pretty good when I stopped for the night, but now that I was trying to go to sleep, it seemed like the nerves in my feet were exploding, so for the first time on the hike, I popped some Vitamin-I (Ibuprofen).

Then I had restless dreams. I dreamed that my cousin, Sierra, tried to slip into a movie theater without paying, and I ratted her out. I also dreamed of a serial killer who would take over the souls of a nearby person whenever he died so he could keep on killing forever. He inhabited the body of the cop who had killed him, turning the cop into a serial killer. And once, the killer ended up on death row, and the electric chair "freed" his soul to take over the body of an onlooker of the execution.

Weird stuff. I blame it on the Vitamin-I.

Hiker Heaven

May 28: Charmin and I slept in especially late this morning. We only had a couple of miles to get into Agua Dulce, which was where both of us planned to stop for the night. If there's one place on the trail that every hiker knows about, it's the legendary Saufleys. Each year, they open their home (or at least most of it) to hundreds of thru-hikers. They provide a place for hikers to shower, resupply, pick up mail drops, and get rides to REI or wherever a hiker needs to get to. I'm not aware of any songs in honor of the Saufleys, but it wouldn't surprise me if they existed. There are trail angels, but these are trail gods. I saw Donna Saufley in the flesh at a PCTA meet in Seattle a couple of years back, though I had never actually talked to her. But I'd heard about her for years, and I was finally excited to visit this Hiker Heaven I'd heard about for so many years there in Agua Dulce.

Charmin lost the PCT almost immediately. Her map showed the trail following a dirt road through the parking lot, so she went in that direction even thought the PCT seemed to veer off in the other direction. I decided to follow the PCT symbols myself. I'm all for cross-country travel when you lose the PCT, but we hadn't even lost it and Charmin was making her own route. It looked like they'd end up in the same place, but I wasn't entirely sure that they would, so I stuck with the official PCT. At a high point, I climbed up on a rock and called Charmin's name, and found her further below down on the road, but still moving more-or-less parallel to me.

We shouted a bit to hear each other, and agreed to both keep going in our own direction, and hopefully meet up further along the trail where the two come together, which eventually we did after about ten minutes of hiking.

Through Agua Dulce, the trail follows along those dreaded roadwalks. This isn't even a detour--it's one of the few places where the trail actually goes into civilization and follows paved roads for several miles. We followed the trail into Agua Dulce, and stopped at a market to pick up groceries for resupply. Charmin, embarrassed, found herself a few dollars short of being able to pay her bill, and I loaned her $5 to cover the bit. She thinks she may have lost a $20 bill somewhere, because she's sure she had more than that. Uh-huh.... Yeah, sure..... =)

We then stopped at the liquor store nearby, which had an ATM so Charmin could get more cash. I waited outside in the shade of the porch, but a few minutes later, Charmin came out, confused about how to work the ATM. "It's asking about savings, checking, or credit," and stuff. "They aren't this complicated in Switzerland!" she said. So I set left my pack outside and went in to help her figure out how to use the ATM.

I have to admit, I'm not entirely sure what would happen if I tried clicking some of the options. What happens if I check to take money out of the "savings account" of my credit card--which doesn't have a checking or savings account? Or if I try to take out "credit" on a debit card that's really attached to a checking account? I don't really know, but I didn't let my own lack of knowledge slow me down. I suggested using the "checking" option since it wasn't a credit card she was using. She seemed a little confused when the ATM said to select an amount of money in multiples of $20, and I explained that the ATM only dispensed $20 dollar bills, so she could only request $20, $40, $60, $80, $100, etc, etc... up to a maximum of $200 which was the limit for the ATM. She punched in a number, and a bunch of twenty dollar bills came out.

She seemed upset that she didn't get any five dollar bills, though. "I still owe you $5," she told me.

"Don't worry about it," I told her. You'll just have to make sure to catch up to me later on the trail and pay it back." =) Charmin was planning to take a zero day in Agua Dulce while I did not, so we both knew this would be the last day we'd be hiking together. It was a little sad--after about a week on the trail together, we'd finally go back to "hiking your own hike" after today. So I rather liked the fact that she'd have an incentive to catch up to me on the trail somewhere along the way, even if it was just to pay me back $5.

We turned down Darling Road, and walked a mile or so off the trail to the Saufleys. John Deere gave us a tour of the facilities, including what to do with our dirty laundry, where to sleep, and the lay of the land. The place was so neat and organized, it was a little intimidating. We bumped into Tradja and Jess on the tour, who I was happy to finally see after not seeing them since Warner Springs.

And this place is a hiker paradise. There is even a row of bicycles that hikers could borrow to ride into town for food or groceries. There was a trailer with a bathroom (and a shower!) and a lounge for hikers to hang in, and the Saufleys even had a few portable toilets brought in for use when the shower was being used. They provided spare clothes for hikers to wear allowing us to wash all of our clothes. A series of hiker boxes were sorted by the type of stuff you can find in it. Information about water sources, trail angels, and reroutes were posted on a board in the garage. The place is simply amazing.

During the tour, Donna saw Charmin and myself and asked if we were a couple. No, we weren't, and Donna went back to what she was doing. I asked John Deere why she asked, and he said that couples get certain privileges, and I asked like what? They get cake or something that other hikers don't get? Heck, I'd pretend to be a couple for that! =) No, just different sleeping arrangements. Ah, well, no, we weren't a couple.

After the tour was over, I put my dirty clothes in a bag, left it in the garage, and took a shower, then lounged around in the trailer chatting with other hikers. There were a lot of hikers there I'd never met before, and the names started to overwhelm me, but a good number of the hikers I had already met already. I didn't recognize Yellow Pants at all in the spare clothes provided while his real clothes were being washed. Charmin suggested he use "Highlighter" as a trail name, which I really liked, although we kept calling him Yellow Pants to each other even though he actually wore shorts, not pants. He didn't seem too interested in the trailname, however, and so far as I know, everyone else still calls him Brian.

I was able to get on the Internet briefly, where I saw in a headline that Gary Coleman had died. Bummer for him, I thought, then went on to check my e-mail.

I started the movie Best In Show playing on the television, trying to convince the other hikers that the movie was hilariously funny, but they seemed in doubt. "A dog show?"

"Really! It is a funny movie!" "No, it's not a real documentary...." Blah, blah, blah....

I don't remember what it was, but something outside called my attention, so I left about 10 minutes into the movie. I figured they'd pop that movie out and put something "good" in now that I was out of the room, but whatever. I didn't really want to force anyone to watch a movie they didn't really want to see anyhow. If they weren't enjoying it, I'd just as soon that they did pop the movie out.

When I came back about five minutes later, I saw that my clothes were finally done washing, so I picked them up and put packed them up with the rest of my stuff by the cot near the horse stable, returned the basket, and finally went back into the lounge where Best In Show was still playing--and in fact there was a larger audience than when I left. My seat on the couch was gone. *sigh* Oh, well.... Glad at least some people were enjoying the movie. =)

Then I noticed that Donna was sitting on the couch, watching the movie as well. I'd been seeing her working all afternoon, vacuuming and running chores, and I was glad to see her sitting down and relaxing. And watching the movie I picked out. =) I sat down on the floor to join the crowd, when Donna pushed everyone on the couch over to make room for another person, which I happily jumped up and accepted.

And drats, I'd have loved a photo of my sitting next to Donna on the couch watching Best In Show, but I had left my camera with my stuff by the cot. At least I have the memory. =)

After the movie ended, I wandered outside where a few hikers, including Charmin, were around a campfire pit. There wasn't a campfire going, but Charmin was playing the guitar that was provided for hikers, and sounded quite good. Running Wolf started a small fire, which I nearly snuffed out by accident when I put a larger piece of wood on the pile that collapsed the whole thing. Danimal had also arrived that afternoon, and was already drunk off his ass, which was kind of funny to watch him stumble around. At the same time, I thought it seemed pretty rude. I wasn't sure if the Saufleys minded hikers getting drunk off their ass, but Donna seemed so nice and energetic helping out hikers, it seemed like a slimy way to return the thanks.

Running Wolf was telling us about how strange it seemed to not know anything about that was happening in the "real world," and I told him, "You aren't missing much. Gary Coleman died today, but that's about it."

"He what?!"

"He died."

Another hiker asked who Gary Coleman was. Another wanted to know how he died, and I had to admit that I really didn't know. I just saw the headline, I didn't actually read the article.

Running Wolf just said, "Crap, I didn't have to know that. Why did you have to tell me that Gary Coleman died? I don't want to know that."

Charmin started playing the guitar again, and we all just shut up and listened.

Special 41 sat by the fire, sewing a zipper that was coming apart, and Hurricane started the "zipper song" to Charmin's music. I can't say I remember any of the words, except for something like, "Oh, zipper! Oh, zipper! Why have you failed me, poor zipper?" An ode to a zipper, and Hurricane made up most of the words, saying them as fast as they entered his head. He may get lost easily in the snow, but that man can think up lyrics off the top of his head faster than anyone else I know.

Finally, long past hiker midnight (sunset), we called it a night and headed to our respective cots to sleep.

The Little Doggie

May 27: Charmin and I continued the road walk. We broke up camp, followed the dirt road back to the "official" detour, and continued walking. It seems like an unusually large number of properties are up for sale out in this part of the world. I can't remember passing by so many "for sale" signs as along this road walk, but most of the properties have "no trespassing" and "keep out" signs posted all over the place. Not a very friendly place, and I was so pleased to see one property with a "welcome" sign out front, I actually stopped to take a photo of it. Charmin asked if I planned to talk knock on their door.

"No," I said. "I just like that they're welcoming. I haven't seen a lot of that. And wouldn't the world be a better place if there were fewer "keep out" signs and a lot more "welcome" mats put out?

We reached the intersection where we now started following the official detour of the original official detour, which starts to sound confusing when you use it in a conversation. A few minutes later, we passed over a drainage ditch, when I noticed a small dog curled up at the bottom of it.

At first I thought it might be dead since it didn't appear to be moving, but then I saw it move a bit. "Hey, little buddy," I said to it, but it just ignored me. It had a red collar on the dog, so I knew it wasn't a wild animal, but it wasn't acting very dog-like either. Most dogs either bark with a particular sense of viciousness or they bark with a sense of excitement, clearly enjoying company. This dog did nothing. It acted more like a cat. Was it lost? Injured? I wasn't sure, but I couldn't just keep walking without finding out more.

I set down my pack and walked down to the dog. Charmin told me to be careful--I don't think she wanted to have to "rescue" me if the dog suddenly lunged or attacked. I walked up slowly, but the dog did nothing but watch my approach and twitch its head.

I pet the dog, talking to it softly, and it didn't seem to mind. But the dog still seemed unusually lethargic. When I was sure the dog wouldn't suddenly attack, I started to feel around the collar looking for a tag. Perhaps if there was a phone number on a tag, I could call the owner on my cell phone. But there was no tag, or any clue who the dog might be or how it ended up there. I told Charmin, who was still watching me from the road about the lack of a tag.

The dog was a little larger than a house cat. Mostly orange-ish in color. There didn't appear to be any visible injuries on the dog, but it seemed to act as if he were hurt or sick, and I still didn't just want to leave him here on the side of the road.

Charmin and I talked and decided to try giving it some water. Perhaps he's thirsty. We didn't have any dog bowls to pour water out into, so I pulled over a bumper that had fallen off a car and Charmin threw down her water bottle which I spilled out into the makeshift bowl next to the dog. The dog watched, curious, then laid his head back down and ignored it. Hmm.... Now what?

I hiked back up to the road and checked my cell phone. There was a weak signal. Who should I call? My first thought was Dezert Ratty--maybe she could call an animal shelter or something, or at least have some idea of who I should call about this dog. We had hiked a good 20 or more miles from her house, but that wasn't very far by car. I tried calling, but only got an answering machine. Lorraine had also given us her phone number, so I tried calling Lorraine next, who was home. I told her the situation, and she said she'd make some calls and call me back.

Charmin sat down and asked, "So is this a king-size break?"

I nodded and said, "Yes, I think it will be."

This was another one of our little inside jokes we'd developed over the last several days of hiking together. Sometimes, when we stopped for a break, Charmin would pull out a large candy bar that was invariably labeled as "king size" and proclaim that this was a "king size" break. She didn't pull out any candy bars this time, but this was looking like this break would be worthy of the title.

We finally heard back from Lorraine who had called an animal shelter that said they could pick the animal up, but that they could only get it later that afternoon. It would be faster if someone could bring the dog to the animal shelter, and if the dog were injured or sick, that that would be the best option. Which is great, except Charmin and I couldn't exactly carry the dog to an animal shelter on our backs. Lorraine said she could drive out and pick up the dog, however, and get it the help it needs.

Excellent! Now we just needed to wait for Lorraine to come by. I told her exactly where we were, on the Aliso Canyon Road at mile marker 2.63 outside of Acton, then Charmin and I sat down to wait.

"So what do you want to call him?" I asked Charmin.

"Orange Jews," she suggested, in reference to its color. I laughed.

"Or how about just Orange, for short," I suggested. People might get the wrong idea if they start hearing you call the dog Jew. =) That Charmin--she's a character, I tell you.

So we named the dog Orange, and just sat on the side of the road watching the dog. It would occasionally stretch, and once it actually picked itself up, turned 180 degrees, then laid back down again. Charmin and I ate some snacks to pass the time. Two hikers passed us during the wait, and we told them that we were waiting to get help for the dog.

Turns out, before Charmin got into farming, she had considered becoming a vet and even took a few courses in it. "This is great!" I said. "You should be the one to check out the dog and figure out what might be wrong!" She shook her head, though, saying they hadn't learned anything useful before she switched to farming.

"You grew up with dogs," she told me. "You know more about them than I do." Really? I mean, I know they need to be fed, and they sometimes poop in places you don't want them to, but I never really took care of a dog before. So Charmin's skills as a vet had a lot to be desired. Oh, well....

Lorraine finally arrive about an hour later, after losing the trail reroute at one point. "I thought I might have lost the trail. At first I passed seven hikers, then I turned right on a road, and didn't see any hikers after that, and I thought maybe I turned in the wrong direction." That's how you can follow the reroute--just follow the smelly hikers along the road. =)

Lorraine brought a towel to set down in her backseat, then I went down into the ditch to retrieve Orange. I wasn't entirely sure how well this would work. I've only tried to pet the dog thus far, and actually trying to move the dog and carry or push it back up to the road might be a bit tricky if the dog wasn't willing to go with me. I pet Orange for a little while, talking to him softly, trying to get him as comfortable with me as possible.... then I tried getting my right hand under him. Charmin stood on the other side of the dog, waiting to help however she could.

The weather was fairly cool, and both Charmin and I were getting pretty cold sitting there on the side of the road, so I had put on my fleece jacket and gloves. Which was nice when I finally started to get the fingers of my one hand under the dog and it yelped at me. Not really an angry yelp, but more of a "hey, that hurts! Stop it!" kind of yelp.

Charmin commented that it was a good thing I was wearing gloves--just in case it tried to get away or bite me. "Yeah, that's just what I was thinking." I had put them on only because my hands were cold, and while it wouldn't provide a lot of protection against possible dog bites, it certainly couldn't hurt!

Orange pulled himself up on his front legs, as if he were trying to decide whether to get away from me or not, and I saw my opportunity to get a good grip on his whole body. I slid my entire arm under the front half of him, pulled him up, got my other arm under the bottom half of him, and stood up. Yes! I had him!

I walked up to Lorraine's car, carefully setting him down in her backseat, then put a small blanket over Orange. I don't know if Orange was cold or not, but I certainly was sitting out there for the last hour or so.

We hugged Lorraine, who then sped off to take Orange to an animal shelter in Lancaster. Charmin and I put on our packs and continued our hike, our king-sized break finally over.

"And my hands smell like dog," I noted sourly. Wow, that dog really smelled. The smell seemed embedded in my fleece and my gloves for days after that, until I could wash my clothes in Agua Dulce.

The road walking continued through a few neighborhoods where lots of dogs in fenced in properties barked at us, and everyone seemed to own a horse (or at least a statue of a horse). The neighborhood was really a nice one, the types of place where people call their home a "ranch" rather than just a mere "house."

Almost immediately, I had to pee, but that seemed like a bad idea in such an exposed location with so many houses around. Curse my small bladder! I hurried along, hoping to get through the neighborhood as quickly as possible, which we finally did when the reroute turned onto Soladad Canyon Road. I used some brush in a dry creek to hide my peeing activities, near an ant hill that--pardon the pun--seemed to piss off the ants quite a bit.

Just before getting back to the real PCT, the reroute passed by a KOA where Charmin wanted to stop to tank up on water. I still had plenty of water, but I was more than happy to stop at the camp store and get myself an ice cream and cookie sandwich and throw out some of the trash in my pack.

And finally! The end of the detour! We found a PCT marker and the trail, snaking its way into the trees. Our road walk was finally over!

It only took less than five minutes before we lost the trail again. *shaking head* We also found Brian, who Charmin and I started referring to as "Yellow Pants" because of the bright neon-yellow shorts he wore, who was also in the area. Not a good sign, if there ever was one, for the three of us to lose the trail so soon after getting back on it. We followed what looked like a trail across a stream, then it ended at a what seemed mostly like a junk yard. Hmm..... I backtracked, eventually figuring out where we made a wrong turn, and hollered to Yellow Pants and Charmin that I found the trail and got us all back on it.

Charmin and I seem to always find something to disagree about. Nothing important, mind you, but we still had not found a conclusive answer about the difference between bunnies and rabbits, and today we spent much of the afternoon trying to deduce what the "golden spike memorial" on our maps referred to. I told her about the golden spike ceremony at the completion of the first transcontinental railroad, which I wouldn't have expected her to know about being from Switzerland. And as if to emphasis the point, a railroad did pass through the area, and we'd been hearing trails all afternoon. "It's probably where this railroad was official completed," I said confidently.

But as we got closer, Charmin noticed a prominent rock formation and said she thought that maybe it referred to the rock formation that resembled a spike, and even had a somewhat golden color to it. Which was actually a pretty convincing argument, except that I couldn't believe in the coincidence of a golden spike memorial being so close to a railroad and having nothing to do with it.

Well, we crossed over the railroad, and both of us walked pasted a small monument without even noticing it until Yellow Pants pointed it out. It marked the completion of the Pacific Crest Trail in 1993. I looked at Charmin. "We were both wrong. This is the golden spike memorial." Nothing to do with the railroad or the rock formation. Damn, I was so convinced it had to do with the completion of this railroad the memorial was next to!

Light, "non-measurable" sprinkles of rain hit us off and on all afternoon. The weather forecast called for a 30% chance of "measurable" precipitation, and we'd feel the occasional drop of water, and Charmin would say, "It's raining!" And I'd say, "No, that doesn't count. It's not measurable." Like that really made any difference at all. =)

I picked up some sticks to form my homemade umbrella. When it rains, I really like hiking with an umbrella. I don't like carrying the weight of an umbrella, however, when it's not actually raining. So I got this idea in my head to just carry the fabric for an umbrella, then find sticks on the ground when I need it to provide structural stability. Charmin laughed at it the whole afternoon, saying it would never work, and calling it my "shield."

Even Yellow Pants commented on it, saying that he was surprised everyone wasn't carrying one. Obviously tongue-in-cheek. And I told him, "Yeah, well, it takes time. Give it a 150 years or so, and everyone is going to have one of these babies! You'll all wonder how you ever lived without them!" *shaking head* =)

Yellow Pants pulled ahead, and Charmin and I continued plodding down the trail to Vasquez Rocks, where we lost the PCT for a second time this day. In our defense, the trail was poorly marked, and a sign pointing to a "footpath" pointed us in the wrong direction. We didn't go far before we figured out our mistake and got back on track, however.

Vasquez Rocks fascinates me because apparently it's been used in a lot of movies and TV shows, including one episode of the original Star Trek episode involving a Gorn. I wanted to try recreated scenes from that show, but admittedly, I didn't remember any scenes well enough to try recreating. It was late in the afternoon, however, and we had already hiked over 20 miles and were pretty tired.

We found a water spigot there, hid in some bushes nearby, and set up camp. Technically, I'm not sure camping at Vasquez Rocks was legal, but we had no intention of hiking any more that evening. Strange, finally done with the road walk, and here we are trying to stealth camp again.

At the end of the day, I like to take off my shoes and give my bare feet a good rub. It feels absolutely wonderful, and it gets a lot of dead flecks of skin off my feet. It seems like my feet sheds a couple of layers of skin every single day, and it's nice to rub it off. I did that today, just like any other day, then wiped the dead skin off into the dirt beside my groundsheet.

And a few minutes later, I noticed an ant carrying off a particularly large hunk of skin. I almost wanted to take away the skin from the ant. "Hey, that's my skin! You can't eat it!" But really, what did I expect to happen with it? I warned Charmin that there were man-eating ants in the area, and to have a good night. =)

The Miserable Road Walk....

May 26: Running Wolf, Charmin, and I hit the trail. Lorraine made each of us a scrambled egg breakfast and a bag lunch. We didn't even have to get a ride to the trail. Lorraine lived close enough that it was easier for us just to walk to the trail. Running Wolf had it best--he was picked up almost right outside Lorraine's back door. Charmin and I got picked up a bit earlier on the trail, perhaps five minutes away, so we would need to walk a bit further to connect our footsteps.

We left our packs hidden behind a bush by the side of the road and slackpacked up to where we were picked up by Dezert Ratty the evening before, then walked back to our packs. So at least we could hike for a good ten minutes without any backpacks at all, which was nice.

At the first place we stopped to rest, Charmin pulled out the bag lunch admiring the Bear Claw Lorraine put in it. I don't think Charmin had ever seen a Bear Claw before. She looked at it from all directions, then read the label, noting it's 400 calories and saying, "That's AWESOME!" Which I couldn't help but laugh at. It's not often you see a girl who's excited about consuming 400 useless calories. =)

A couple of hours into our hike, a car pulled over asking us about information on the trail. He had been stopped by a hiker a short ways ahead of us (we assumed it was probably Running Wolf, who was the only person we knew about that was immediately ahead of us), and the hiker was asking about how to get to Agua Dulce. Charmin and I laughed. That Running Wolf.... he keeps getting himself lost, and still ends up on the right trail! (Later, when we did catch up to Running Wolf, he said it wasn't him. But we still tease him about hiking seven miles into the detour and not even realizing it.)

For lunch, we stopped at a small creek with trees providing shade. Originally I planned to walk past it, but Charmin was quick enough to note the trees and say that they were the first ones she'd seen for miles. This might be our best option to stop for lunch. So we stopped, not even realizing a good-flowing stream was hidden under it.

So we stopped for lunch, perhaps a bit early for the day, but shade was scarce. Make use of it while you can!

We sat by the edge of the creek, kicked off our shoes, and ate lunch. I had just filled up with water a half-mile back on the trail where a creek crossed the road, but it wasn't the best looking of water sources. Lots of places upstream where it could have been contaminated. This little creek we were by now seemed like it was a better option for water. So I poured out what I had collected before and filled up at the creek.

But here's the thing. I had already taken off my shoes, and I didn't really want to try getting down to the water level to fill up with water. I didn't even want to stand up. So I took a rope, tied it to my Nalgene bottle, then threw it into the creek from where I sat, slowly pulling it back with the rope. I was "fishing" for water, which Charmin seemed to think was pretty bizarre, but at least somewhat amusing.

Charmin has an unusual assortment of clothing. She took a long-sleeved shirt, then cut off the arms, sewed a hem around each end to prevent fraying, then attaches the arms to the short sleeves with safety pins when she wants to wear a long-sleeved shirt--either because she's cold or because she wants to keep the sun off her arms. She was struggling to get one of the arms on, however, since she only has the other hand to work the safety pin in place, and she finally stopped and asked if I could help her to get dressed.

"Uhh.... Sure.... Okay...." I hoped Amanda would never find out about this. It's not as bad as it sounds. Really! =) I helped Charmin get her arm sleeves on, managing to poke myself once with the safety pin, but not managing to poke her in the process. That really should have been her trail name--Safety Pin. I've never met a hiker who carries more safety pins than Charmin. She must have a couple of dozen of them, pinned all over her clothes. On her shirt, on the cuff of her pants, on her shorts--all of her clothing has a handful of safety pins stuck in them. I'm still not sure what all they're used for, but if you ever need a blister popped, she can certainly help!

Charmin and I got ahead of Running Wolf without even realizing it. He went off the trail briefly to replace a broken camera at a nearby Wal-Mart. He called a taxi to pick him up from off the trail, made a quick run into town, then took the taxi back. I was pleased when I learned this, because I put the taxi idea into his head. He was originally going to try to find a bus or walk to the Wal-Mart, if necessary, and I said a taxi might be faster and more convenient. (Albeit, more expensive too.) He liked that idea so much, though, he actually used it.

Late in the day, Charmin was looking at the map of the detour and saw a little dirt road running between the two paved roads that the detour followed, suggesting that maybe we could follow that. I had to admit, on the map, it looked like an excellent suggestion. Walking along a paved road was not fun--not especially busy, perhaps--but still not a fun walk. But I wouldn't commit to her suggested detour of the official detour just yet. I was concerned it might be a private road or lead through private property. Accidentally running into a pot growing operation or something was not something I had on my to-do list!

So I suggested let's take a look at the dirt road before making any commitments. We hiked on, and I nearly passed the dirt road without even realizing it. Actually, I *did* pass the dirt road, then backtracked about 50 feet when I realized I had overlooked it.

And the road looked.... good. Very good, in fact. There were no fences to keep people out. No "No Trespassing" signs, no "Private Property" signs, and no signs to "Keep Out." The road looked recently used, and appeared to follow powerlines across the segment. Probably used by utility companies to maintain the powerlines. "Let's do it!" I said. Charmin's detour would take off about three miles of miserable road walking, trading it in for a mile and a half of a little-used but well-maintained dirt road along the powerlines.

It was getting late in the day as well and we would need a place to camp soon, and the wheels in my head started clicking. Along this road would be an awesome place to camp--as long as there was water nearby. Charmin and I both needed more water before we could stop. The paved road would have been a miserable place to stealth camp. Certainly possible, but every passing car would wake us up during the night. So I told Charmin, "If we find water along this road, let's camp there."

And we did find water. It was a small creek, near the end of the dirt road. The wind was quite strong, so we followed the creek upstream a bit trying to find a place with a bit of wind protection. On the way, Charmin found an onion growing, and had to stop long enough to dig it up. Charmin's at it again, grazing off the land like a cow. I'll tell you this, however--if I were ever stranded in the woods without any food, there's absolutely nobody I'd rather have around than Charmin. She can find food anywhere! That little farmer girl from Switzerland knows more about edible plants in California than I do!

She dug up a pitifully small onion, barely the size of a quarter, and asked if I wanted to share it. "There's not even enough for one bite!" I told her, but she proceeded to slice off a bit with a knife and gave it to me.

"It's not going to have much taste to it," she warned me. I popped it in my mouth, and agreed, it was pretty tasteless. Tasted nothing like an onion.

We set up camp, in a burnt out area of the Station Fire. It looked like there used to be trees providing shade and wind protection, but they had all burned in the fire. A few grasses and flowers sprouted in the area of an otherwise wasteland of charred remains. It was beautiful, in a desolate kind of way. And perhaps the best stealth campsite ever on a road walk!