Day Thirty Five

Today's miles: 17
Total miles: 535

There is a note in the maps that we carry that reads, "a surprising number of hikers become ill during this section. Take care to filter your water and pay particular attention to good hygiene."

Rotisserie went to bed last night feeling very sick. Katie and I moved to a different section of the trailer to give her some space, and poor thing spent most of the night beside the toilet. We soon learned that Focus and a number of our other hiker friends were also suffering from a similar stomach virus, and it made for a dour morning. We had successfully battled through every challenge the PCT has thrown at us for thirty-four days, but this was a challenge for which we were unprepared. What do you do when you get deadly sick and you're miles from anywhere, in the middle of the Mojave Desert?

We had planned on night hiking through the LA Aqueduct section of the desert tonight to avoid the blasting heat, but with Rotisserie sick we stalled our plans. We didn't know what to do. We had become a family, and we didn't want to leave her behind. But Hikertown wasn't exactly a great place to be stuck, and we were an hour and a half by car and a two day walk from the next town, Tehachapi. We mulled over our options. Wait for Rotisserie to feel better? Hike without her and call her a cab to get her to Tehachapi? Let her rest and catch up with us later?

She was feeling better this morning, which made us hopeful, but by early afternoon was looking wan and sickly again. We let her rest in bed and watched as our other hiker friends left to hike the desert. Sansei and Papa Bear said goodbye, and even Focus left, though he was still feeling poorly, too. Katie and I napped throughout the afternoon and then started getting ready to go around 3:00. Rotisserie wasn't feeling better, but she said she wanted us to hike on without her, and she would take a zero day in Hikertown and catch up with us later. We weren't happy about leaving her, but we didn't have many options.

At 4:00pm Katie and I left Hikertown, our moods somber. For the first time in a long time, we were hiking alone.

The LA Aqueduct section of the PCT was a 22 mile stretch of very flat terrain that skirted the edge of the Mojave Desert. It was notorious for having no shade and no water, despite the irony of walking over an aqueduct almost the entire time. Most people either night hike this section or try to get at least 17 miles in, where there is an overpass that offers the one bit of shade you are able to find in the desert. Otherwise, you suffer a very monotonous and long stretch of dry, hot hiking.

An odd sight in the Mojave: an aqueduct bringing water to LA, but no way for us to drink it

Since we were doing our first night hike, we didn't expect the sun to be a problem for too long. In fact, the lowering sun over the desert was quite beautiful, and the only thing we had to worry about today was how boring the hiking was. It was incredibly flat, which meant we were cruising at a steady 3 mph and talking about everything and anything along the way. We stopped for dinner at sunset and then continued following the concrete river as it made its way through the Mojave.

As the sun disappeared and the stars slowly appeared, Katie and I donned our headlamps, marveling at how quiet and calm it was. We had to check our maps more often than usual to make sure we didn't make a wrong turn in the dark, but for the most part we were able to follow Sansei's very distinct Chaco footprints in the sand. We learned that a wide number of interesting creatures begin making appearances in the dark of the desert. We ran across several snakes, a number of translucent scorpions, and a few kangaroo rats hiding in the low shrub brush. As the night wore on, we began seeing blinking red lights far in the distance that looked like radio towers. It reminded me of my time spent working on schooners, looking for the distant lights of towers and lighthouses far on the horizon. But it wasn't until we got closer that realized the red lights weren't radio towers at all: they were wind mills! They loomed suddenly huge, big and bright all around us, the loud mechanical whoosh whoosh noises startling us on all sides. It was very surreal and alien.

Unfortunately, where there are wind mills, there is wind. It had been a very tame and pleasant hike thus far, but now it was 9:00pm and with only two miles to go to reach the underpass, the wind began blowing in earnest. With nothing to block its progress, it slammed right into us. The weather advisory for today predicted 60 mph gusts, and it certainly felt like it. Katie and I had to scream at each other, even though we were only inches apart. We hiked at 45 degree angles to the ground, using all our strength to try and push forward, though with each step we were slowly falling back. It was exhausting work trying to make progress, and we slowly, painfully struggled through those two miles, moving two steps forward and one step back.

At last we reached the bridge at 10:30 pm, which offered precious little protection from the wind. We nearly tripped over Sansei and Focus, who were both cowboy camping in the sand. Too tired to set up our tent, Katie and I rolled out our sleeping bags and crawled inside them. But the wind would not abate. I pulled my face inside my hood, but all night the wind howled, whipping my sleeping bag around and throwing gravel into my face. It was a long night, without much sleep, and I lay looking up at the red moon and wishing for calm.

Day Thirty Four

Miles today: 20
Total miles: 518

I didn't sleep well last night at all. A storm blew through and the wind sounded like a freight train all night, shaking the walls of the tent like brittle leaves, threatening to blow them away.

I got up at 5:30 as Sansei, Dance Party and Buffalo were leaving. It was cold and there was a thick layer of fog lying over the campsite, making everything damp. This made the dirt stick to everything much more than usual, so even when we had only been awake ten minutes we felt filthy.

Katie, Rotisserie, Focus and I packed up and had breakfast at the picnic tables; everyone else was gone except for Boulder and Scooter, who were still sleeping in their tent, and Sunshine, who was in his. As I packed up wet gear, I heard Sunshine's plaintive voice say from inside his tent,
"So... what's the weather like out there?"
"Freezing fog," we said.
His stockinged head suddenly popped out of his tent and he wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"Ewwwwwww!" he wailed, "I'm not hiking today!"
We laughed, because we knew this was just a joke. After all, what else was there to do but hike, rain or shine?

We were on trail by 7:00, wrapped in rain coats and mittens. It wasn't really raining, but the fog was so thick that it coated the trees, and the trees rained down on us. So we were wet. And it was cold. And windy. After so many days of beating sun and relentless heat, wasn't this a better option? But it was almost worse, because the wind was so intense that it scoured our faces. I had my hood cinched as tightly around my face as I could, but still the wind ripped it away. The dirt blasted us, sticking to our wet clothing and packs, and soon we felt like little mud puddles, drenched and miserable as we hurried down the trail. We walked against the wind, and it was exhausting. The fog obscured so much of our path that I would have gotten lost if it weren't for Rotisserie's bright orange pack cover leading the way through the mist.

Soon we came upon something that lifted our spirits: the 500 mile mark! It was an amazing moment, realizing we had come so far. And something happened to me in that moment: I realized what a big accomplishment this was for me. Until today, this PCT hike has seemed something of a pipe dream. I expected to start it, and have a hard time, and perhaps not be able to finish. As much as I wanted to call myself a thru-hiker, I was afraid to use that title, because what if I didn't live up to it? What if I just couldn't cut it out there? What if I quit half way through or only made it two weeks? After all, I was slower than most hikers, had gotten so many blisters, spent most days with some sort of ache or pain that I suffered through, and still cursed my way up a difficult incline. Most days I didn't feel like I was getting stronger or faster, I just felt battered and bruised and weary. But then it struck me: I've walked 500 miles!

I've walked 500 miles despite being slower than most hikers.
I've walked 500 miles despite the blisters, and the aches, and the pains.
I've walked 500 miles despite the horrible climbs and the steep descents.
I've walked 500 miles without quitting, even when the days were difficult, even when I wanted nothing more than to go home and sit on the couch and eat a bowl of ice cream.
And in that moment I realized that I really was a thru-hiker. Because I wasn't the only one with blisters, bruises or thoughts of why the hell am I doing this? But I was one of the few who stuck it out regardless of the challenges, and I had made it. I knew in that moment that if I could walk 500 miles, I could walk 2,650, and that realization made me strong.

We made it six miles before gnawing hunger made us stop for a break. But the break was short, for if we weren't hiking the cold seeped into our bones and made us move again. We tried in vain to "brush off" the dirt on our clothes and gear, but that only managed to get everything even more dirty, and we had to live with the notion that even for thru-hikers, we were filthier than we had ever been.

We hurried through the miles as quickly as we could. At mile 10 we came upon Papa Bear's tent! Despite that it was 11:00 am, he was still sleeping, and so we stood outside and yelled his name until he woke up.
"Is it morning?" he asked.
We laughed. "It's 11:00, Papa Bear!"
"Oh," said he. "There's no sun!"
"No, it's raining," we agreed.
We told him we'd meet him at our destination for the day, Hikertown.

We hiked a steady 2.5 mph, our muscles weary, our feet sore, our bodies soaked, and then we ran into a patch of Poodle Dog Bush. "As if this day couldn't get any worse!" Focus said.

At last we dropped down to the valley floor and came upon Hikertown, a makeshift little village that looked like an old Western movie set. It was a little hostel that catered to hikers, and it was a place to sleep and get a shower for the evening. We had done 20 miles in eight hours and my feet were aching. Rotisserie, Katie and I got a room in one of the old trailers and spent the evening relaxing in a common area with our fellow hikers before bed.

Day Thirty Three

Miles today: 20
Total miles: 498

Mr. Anderson began serving pancakes this morning at 7:00 am. All the hikers patiently stood in line for this bit of trail magic, waiting as he flipped and ladled pancakes. After gorging ourselves on carbs and maple syrup, we caught a shuttle back to the trail with the Chain Gang and Sansei. As nice as it is being at a trail angel's house, I think we're all glad to be back on trail. More and more it is becoming our safe haven from the world and our escape back into what we know best.

The first part of today was all climbing. Rotisserie, Katie and I walked with Sansei (who, ironically, was on our plane ride our very first day down to San Diego, but he called himself "Shutterbug" back then from his time on the AT. It's funny how so many things on the trail come back full circle!). Sansei was a much faster hiker than us but he often stopped for breaks and waited for us to catch up with him. He joked to others about staying at the Anderson's so long, but now that "a bunch of pretty girls were going back on trail", he had no choice but to follow. When we breaked, the Chain Gang caught up to us and soon there were ten of us sitting in a small amount of shade, munching on trail mix. A surprising number of hikers passed us as we ate, more people than we had seen on trail in weeks. Apparently everyone was leaving the Andersons today!

We hiked six miles to a water cache where there was shade and a picnic table. We had lunch together and I enjoyed how "communal" today felt, with everyone on trail together. I had fun eating with Boulder and Scooter and teasing them about the delicious amount of food they had packed in today: tomatoes and lettuce and ham and baguettes and a whole bottle of BBQ sauce.

After lunch we were climbing again, and I dreaded the hot afternoon hours when we didn't get a siesta from the heat. But I took my time, and after an hour of scorching sunlight, the wind picked up and helped cool me off. The trail slowly became more forested/shaded and no longer felt as dreadful. The climbing only lasted a few miles, and then it mellowed out. I got into a groove and hiked steadily behind Rotisserie, Katie, Focus, Boulder and Scooter. We were up at higher elevations again and I could see down the mountains onto the vast desert below. We would officially be in the Mojave in two days time.

The wind picked up as the day went on, becoming more annoying than relieving. It kicked around my hat and knocked me around trail, making me stumble. At mile 18 we came to our next water source, which was a concrete cistern with a metal lid that we had to slide aside to reach the water below. We had to lower a dipper into the dark water and bring it up again to fill our water containers. It wasn't too pleasant looking, but it was our last water for quite some time, and it was necessary to fill up.

Left to right: Honey Bunny, Rotisserie, Boulder, Scooter

We only had two more miles to go to reach a campground for the evening. The weather had suddenly turned cold and windy, threatening storms. We hurried through the miles as quickly as we could and came upon a lovely, wooded campground an hour later. Katie, Rotisserie, Focus and I had arrived before the others, so we bundled up and made dinner on the picnic tables before setting up tents. Soon the others began arriving: the rest of the Chain Gang plus Starfox and Sansei. We made a little tent city and sat around talking before bed. I had a little moment where I found myself smiling, surrounded by these people, and I realized how much I enjoyed being in their company. We all came from such different backgrounds, but here we were embarking on the same challenging journey, and there was a stronger bond than friendship that came from that.

Day Thirty Two

Miles today: 7
Total miles: 478

We debated this morning whether we wanted to briefly stop by the Trail Angel's house the Andersons, stay the night there, or just hike past without stopping. It was only seven miles away but we heard that hikers can get "stuck" there for days or weeks at a time, like a time warp. We didn't want that to happen to us, but we also didn't want to skip it entirely. We finally decided to spend our afternoon siesta there and try to do some more miles in the evening.

With a plan in mind, we were up and ready to go by 7:00. It was a cold morning, so we left Papa Bear sleeping and said we'd catch up with him later. The terrain was flat and pleasant so we made excellent time, reaching the road by 9:30. The Andersons lived two miles off trail, but we managed to catch a hitch from a lady who was neighbors with them.

As soon as we drove up, we were met by a huge group of hikers sitting in lounge chairs and couches on the front lawn. It was organized chaos everywhere. Everyone was in Hawaiian shirts and drinking something, and a sign on the garage read: "Hippie Day Care." As soon as we got out of the car the whole group of hikers began raucously cheering, and Mrs. Anderson herself came running out of the house to give us big hugs. We were given a tour of the house by Mr. Anderson, who tried to persuade us to put our packs in the backyard for camping tonight, but we politely declined, saying we were trying to hike out this evening. He gave us a look like he didn't believe us.

A lot of our friends were already there: Sunshine, Buffalo, Boulder, Scooter, Dance Party, Dog, Focus, Starfox, Lunchbox, Sansei, and many other hikers that we had never met. Apparently they had started far ahead of us but had gotten stuck in the Anderson Time Warp.

Hiker banner at the Anderson's. My name is written under the "S" in "Casa"

We were just in time for the last of the pancake breakfast, and Rotisserie, Katie and I found seats on couches and made ourselves at home. The Anderson's house was a completely different feel than the Sauffley's. The Sauffley's were the masters of organization and efficiencyand the Andersons were a kind of messy chaos. There was stuff and people everywhere, music playing, clutter in every corner of the yard, and apparently chocolate pudding wrestling in the evenings. It took some getting used to.

We relaxed for a few hours, debating whether we wanted to stay or go. Papa Bear never showed up, which led us to believe that he had kept walking. We wrestled with trying to hike after him, but Sansei kept giving us drinks and persuading us to stay (he had been there two days already, himself) and finally we relented. Katie, Rotisserie and I took our packs to the backyard to find a campspot and all the hikers who saw us walking by immediately began screeching and cat calling, whooping delightedly: "walk of shame! Walk of shame!" Apparently we weren't the only ones who claimed we were "only staying ten minutes" and then stayed the night.

We soon discovered the magic of the Anderson's backyard. Sansei described it as a place where "fairies, hikers and unicorns live in harmony." They had a huge Manzanita tree grove that stretched acres behind their house, and they had created a trail that ran through it. At each turn of the trail, a small spot had been hollowed out to allow a tent to be pitched there. The trail went on and on, with hundreds of tent spots at each turn. I couldn't believe how big the backyard was; it seemed to go on forever. There were a lot of other tents already pitched in the hollows, but we managed to find a good spot and set up our tent for the night. Once settled, we returned to the party.

I was immersed in chatting with some fellow hikers when suddenly Dance Party appeared beside Katie, Rotisserie and me. She gestured her head subtly to some big tables where volunteer trail angels appeared to be working on food of some kind.

"So, this is happening," she advised in a quiet voice. "They're making taco salad for us for dinner. You're gonna want to wash your hands and get in line quick before they announce it, otherwise it'll be chaos. I was here last night for it, and it's totally worth it. You'll want to be first in line."

And, indeed, right after we washed our hands and got in line, there was a mad dash of people and we found ourselves at the front of a very jostling, chaotic throng of people. The volunteers made a loud announcement:

"LISTEN UP!" they yelled, "if this is your first time to the Anderson's, get to the front of the line! There are some important rules to follow when getting your taco salad! Make sure you wash your hands first! Get a plate and fill it with chips, and then crush the chips into small pieces, otherwise everything will start to spill off your plate. When you add toppings to the chips, DO NOT hold your plate above the pots! That way if your food spills, it won't contaminate the other pots. If you fail to remember this, you will be slapped! I have a wooden spoon and I know how to use it! Move quickly and only take one spoonful of each item. You have your choice of beans, cheese, lettuce, salsa, sour cream, olives, pasta and ham. Remember, don't get too close to the pots or you will be spooned!!"

We were half laughing and half terrified through the whole speech, giggling and jostling each other like small school children.
"Oh my God, there are so many rules!" Katie squealed, "I'm so scared!"
"I don't know what to do!!" I yelped in agreement, "I don't want to get hit by a wooden spoon!"
"You can do it!!" a hiker named Yahtzee barked near me. "We survived Poodle Dog Bush, we can survive this!!"

We managed to make it through the line with only a few whacks of the spoon, and then found seats to devour our food. We sat with Sansei and the Chain Gang and laughed about how much the trail sucks when you're hiking it, but somehow everything is funnier in retrospect. ("Remember that time we got dehydrated? Hilarious.") Starfox called it "Type Two Fun." Type Two fun is defined as an activity that is not fun while you are doing it, but afterward, looking back, you realize you learned/ experienced something worthwhile. I thought that described the PCT pretty accurately.

We had fun all evening playing music, laughing with each other until we got the hiccups, and realizing why people stay at the Anderson's so long. Eventually I knew I had to sleep if we were going to hike tomorrow, though, so I turned in at 9:30 and left the party behind for the Manzanita grove, hearing happy voices raging from the house until late into the night.