Hiker Heaven to Tehachapi, May 23rd-30th

May 23rd-24th - Hiker Heaven

I failed almost completely in photo-documenting my stay at the Saufleys'.  This picture below shows people hanging out, 

but there was so much more.  There was a laundry station, where hikers could deposit their laundry in mesh bags (there were special small bags for gaiters), and collect it later, clean.  There was a place for picking up mail and a place for mailing.  While I was sending a package a Japanese girl was sending a package home, meaning that they could even send international mail.  There was a tent housing five working computers, and there was wi-fi on the grounds.  There were large tents with cots inside them, with a total of 50 beds for hikers.  There were bikes that could be borrowed to ride the mile into town, and volunteers frequently gave rides there.  There was also a van that the Saufleys had rented for hiker season, which made daily trips to REI and occasional trips to a larger grocery store in a nearby town.  There was a kitchen where hikers could store and cook food, and a living room for watching movies or just hanging out.  They even have their own website, which details their operation even more completely. 

Luckily, the Dirty Girl had sent me 10 pairs of gaiters to give out and 2 pairs for myself, one of which I gave away since I already had a few pairs.  I'd already given away two at the last posting but found homes for the rest after that, and luckily caught at least a little of Hiker Heaven in the background:

Dirty Girl Gaiter recipient #3 at the computer station

Dirty Girl Gaiter recipient #4 at the incoming mail station

Dirty Girl Gaiter recipient #5 at the computer station

Dirty Girl Gaiter recipient #6 at the computer station

Dirty Girl Gaiter recipient #7 in the living room

Dirty Girl Gaiter recipient #8 in the living room

Dirty Girl Gaiter recipient #9 in the living room

Dirty Girl Gaiter recipient #10

Dirty Girl Gaiter recipient #11 on a cot in one of the sleeping tents

May 25th

Saturday morning I woke up at 3:00 AM to pee, and decided to just stay up.  I left the Saufleys' around 4:00 AM, and walked the mile into town.  I made oatmeal on the dark porch of a cafe, and then walked the trail through town as the sky gradually lightened. 

By the time it was light the trail left the road and climbed into the foothills.  I passed a strange looking lot populated by empty cars, campers, and even the fuselage of a jet, and I couldn't figure out what exactly went on there.  

I spent half a day walking through the scrub,

and stopping for lunch at a water cache I met Sticks.  He said that he had thru-hiked the PCT in 2010 and had come to the cache to offer food to hikers, although I had bought too much in Agua Dulce to accept any. 

Sticks

Sticks left and while I made lunch at the cache Starfox caught up with me, hiking with a girl named Dance Party and a guy named Guy On A Buffalo.  The four of us hiked together until we caught up with the "24 Challenge" crew, who were resting at another water cache maintained by the Anderson family.  To explain the 24 Challenge, there are two very different but both well-known trail angel families, separated by 24 miles on the PCT.  The Sauffleys run Hiker Heaven, and the Andersons, 24 miles north, have Casa de Luna.  The 24 Challenge is hiking (usually slack-packing) 24 miles in 24 hours, while drinking 24 beers.  I'd heard about it before this crew left but opted out, not relishing the idea of mixing hiking through the desert with large quantities of alcohol.   

Chik Chak (center), who I would hike with later, with the 24 Challenge crew

Guy On A Buffalo (right)

Feelin' the 24

Dance Party and Starfox settling in as the 24 Challenge crew departs

Starfox, Dance Party, and Guy On A Buffalo having lunch

Guy On A Buffalo being stalked by Frankenstein

After lunch Dance Party and Guy On A Buffalo stayed to rest while Starfox and I hiked the rest of the way to Casa de Luna.  Including the mile walked back to the trail from the Sauffleys' house this made my first 25-mile day, and my legs were screaming by the end of it.  The house was two miles from the trail but as we popped out onto the road a woman stood next to a minvan, doors open, waiting for hikers.  Her name was Lil' Steps, and she was a volunteer at the Andersons'.  She drove us there, and as we stepped out of the van, fifty people started clapping.  This makes you feel pretty special, until you realize that it's tradition at Casa de Luna to do this whenever anyone arrives. 

Snort (left), who I hadn't seen since the kickoff, coming to give me a hug

Casa de Luna

Casa de Luna is also amazing, although in a completely different way than Hiker Heaven.  There's no laundry service, no computer station, and no postal services, but there are copious quantities of food and a party atmosphere.  Hikers sleep out back in the manzanita trees.  I chose a spot only a few yards into the trees, but from what little wandering I did, there are pathways winding back through the trees a long ways in all directions, and all kinds of places for people to camp.  There's a shower in the yard between the trees and the house, and there is taco salad for lunch and pancakes for breakfast.  Everyone is drinking beer, and the night I stayed there Mrs. Anderson supervised the moving of the tables to make way for a dance party.  At one point two girls who had painted their breasts one color and their nipples another made boob prints on the Casa de Luna banner (hanging on the house, visible in the picture above) to the cheers of the crowd, and I heard that wrestling in oil was scheduled to happen a day or two later.  

May 26th

Feeding time at Casa de Luna - Mrs. Anderson, who is a great personality that I failed to get a picture with, is in the background on the far right.

I didn't have the energy for partying and was still feeling like I hadn't accomplished enough miles yet given the time I'd been on the trail, so I didn't really get into the swing of the party.  Probably my most enjoyable conversation there was with Mr. Anderson, who I was thrilled to learn worked on the actual bones on the show Bones.  Lil' Steps gave me and three other women a ride back out to the trail, and I set off for Lake Hughes about 8 miles away.  I didn't really need anything but wanted to try to check out every town, and it was Sunday of Memorial Day weekend and I figured who knows, maybe I'll find something cool.  

What are these pods?

I felt like I was back in Whatcom County (where I grew up).

Descending to the highway leading to Lake Hughes a bike flew me.  The trail was steep, narrow, and dropped off sharply to one side, and the bike was traveling really fast.  The bicyclist yelled out his apologies and yelled that there was only one other person behind him.  I climbed up off of the trail until the second bike had gone by, that guy saying nothing, just tearing by me.  The PCT is off limits to wheels of any kind.  It's marked by signs positioned frequently, particularly near points of possible access by bikes or other vehicles.  It's so well marked as a foot- and livestock-only trail (riding horses and using pack animals is allowed), that there is absolutely no way that anyone could plead ignorance of this fact.  If you ride your bike on the PCT, you're endangering the people who belong there, and you're an asshole.

Down at the highway I chatted with the three other women who had been dropped off at the trail with me.  They planned to hike another two miles up the hill after the highway, and I said I'd pop into town briefly, and then get a ride back out and join them.  I stood with my thumb out, and a woman drove by without slowing.  A minute later she returned, driving up to me and turning her car around.  I assumed she'd reconsidered driving by me and had come back to pick me up, but I was wrong.

"It's dangerous around here," she said.  "There's meth, and all kinds of nasty people."

"Thank you," I said.  "So you're headed into town?"  She clearly was, but she looked at me fearfully.

"No, I'm not."  

"Alright," I said, "have a nice night, and thank you,"  and as she drove away I added "for absolutely fucking nothing."  The three other hikers looked at me.  

"Are you still going to go?"  Haggis, a Scotch woman, asked.

"Are you kidding me?"  I answered.  "I've been to Grozny, I'm not afraid of a few meth-heads.  That woman was afraid of everything.  She was even afraid of me."  Haggis nodded in agreement.

"She was."

I reassured them that I would be fine and before they had even left another car stopped, and I hopped in.  The occupants were a friendly Ukrainian couple, relaxed on their way to another lake past Lake Hughes.  We chatted in Russian on the short trip into town, and I was grateful both for the ride and for the momentary reprieve from the American culture of fear.

The store in Lake Hughes had a meager selection, far less than the convenience store near Casa de Luna, but I sat outside of it reading my guidebook pages and realized that I actually had plenty of food to get me to Hikertown, where I had mailed a box of food from the Saufleys'.  Two men in a truck pulled up and I pointed across the street.

"Is that the restaurant?"

"Yeah, but why don't you come with us?  We need help eating all that tri-tip."  The man's name was Dave and he gave me details on the tri-tip and the location of the house and seemed trustworthy, so I went.  Dave and his friend Brian lived in a sparsely furnished house belonging to Dave's brother, who did something in the film industry.  Brian watched TV on a huge flatscreen in the next room while Dave and I sat at the kitchen table.  He loaded a plate with tri-trip, gave me a loaf of bread, mayonnaise, and mustard, and sat watching me eat while he asked questions about the trail.  Dave had a very checkered past including bouts of homelessness and more than just brushes with the law, but he had cleaned himself up and was making a go of it.  Part of this process had been moving out to Lake Hughes from L.A, and he was enamored with the beauty of the desert.  He seemed to be looking for something like the PCT to help him complete his transition, and he kept asking questions about the trail and apologizing for his questions about the trail, and I kept reassuring him that it was OK to ask me questions about hiking.  I finished eating and packed some more tri-tip for lunch the next day, and then Dave drove me back to the trail.  He asked me for a hug when I got out of the car, and I threw my arms around him and wished him all things good in this life. 

Dave

May 27th

Two days before had been my first 25-mile day, and today would somehow become my first 30-mile day.  I'm not sure how it happened, but it did.   

It was also the day I made 500 miles, marked here in small pieces of wood,

and later here by an official PCT marker.

At one point I stopped for water at a large concrete cistern, which had a heavy metal lid that could be moved to access the water inside.  There were other hikers there that I'd known were on the trail, but I also found G-Dub, who I'd hiked with between Wrightwood and the Sauffleys'.  He had a blister that had become infected, and couldn't go on.  He said not to worry, that he had plenty of food with him and just needed a day to rest, but Running Commentary (another one of the women from the previous day) and I ganged up on him.  We got him to call the Andersons, where he got a ride to come and pick him up to take him back there to recuperate.  The ride, incidentally, was from Aloha, whose real name was Adam and was running support for his wife Robin and her friend Rachel, who were hiking the trail.  I'd met Aloha before and liked him, and left comforted with the knowledge that he was on his way to fetch G-Dub. 

I continued on through the afternoon.  The trail had some stretches with meadows and trees, which was a nice break from the desert scrub. 

I wonder if someone knocked this sign down just to test it...

Looking down on the valley where Hikertown is located

A sign warning you that this stretch of the PCT is on a shooting range.  Great...

I caught a stunning sunset and walked into Hikertown with Lighthouse, a 19-year old college student from Scotland who had hiked the AT the previous summer.  He had thru-hiked the AT but didn't have enough time off during the summer to complete the PCT, so he'd started the trail from the Sauffleys' and was planning to hike the rest of the trail from there.  Lighthouse was a chemistry major and wasn't overly interested in chemistry, but apparently due to the British system he'd had to declare his major when still in high school, and changing it now would mean repeating years of college, which he understandably wasn't willing to do.  I asked him a million questions about the AT, and he said that about 4,000 people set out to thru-hike it every year, most of whom drop out.  The trail is better known than the PCT, so it attracts more people who don't realize the amount of physical exertion involved in thru-hiking.

Lighthouse in Hikertown

Hikertown was surreal, like an old west movie set.  Lighthouse and I walked up to the fence where five or six dogs rushed it, barking, until the manager Bob caught up with them and let us in.  We got a trailer, the kind that's normally pulled behind a truck, for $10/apiece.  Lighthouse took the big bed in the rear and I took the big bed in the front, and the wind blew so hard outside that it even woke me once or twice during the night after having hiked 30 miles.  

May 28th

In the morning I couldn't move too quickly and another member of the staff, Richard, invited me into his house for donuts until Debbie, the cook, showed up and made me breakfast burritos.  I spent the day lounging and recovering, and flipped through the hiker register.  I noticed a sticker from the Wounded Warrior Project among the entries for 2012, and remembered the guy I'd met at the kickoff party who was hiking this year as part of it.  I hadn't seen him since, and wondered if he was still on the trail. 

I also met another hiker who told me about Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response.  She described it as a tingly feeling in her spine triggered by watching people do things with their hands, and said that there were loads of YouTube videos posted by other people with ASMR showing the kinds of things that triggered the response.  The Wikipedia page, which I put a link to above, says that the existence and nature of the phenomenon is controversial, but it's one more thing that I would never have heard of if I hadn't hiked the PCT.

Hikers that I knew showed up during the day,

T-Rex, Rocky, Sour Cream, and Starfox (left to right), arriving in Hikertown

and after a friendly man named Terry showed up in an RV and gave a large group a ride to the nearby convenience store/takeout restaurant called the Wee Vill Market, I left Hikertown with them.  The trail ran until it met an aqueduct, and then ran along it. 

after just a couple of miles the aqueduct ceased to be above ground, and the trail ran along the pipeline for many miles.   

Chik Chak and Starfox dancing on the pipeline

We camped along the aqueduct, and I cowboy camped in the wind.  I'd sent my tent ahead to Kennedy Meadows and was hiking with just a tarp in case of rain, but it didn't seem much use against the wind.  

May 29th

In the morning we hiked through more desert, and as the day progressed the Joshua trees gradually gave way to windmills. 

I think the Joshua trees may have been the source of that weird seed pod thing I'd seen a few days before.

I love this signage - you can't go into this area, there's a danger of electrocution,

UNLESS you're hiking the PCT.  

I guess these were the state-of-the-art windmills that the people at the Mesa Wind Farm back by Palm Springs had told me about, but I don't really know how to evaluate a windmill:

We finally left the wind farm and started to climb into the foothills.  We stopped at a creek in a valley sheltered from the wind and I thought for sure that everyone would want to camp there, but T-Rex was low on food and was supremely motivated to push on.  We hiked up into the foothills as dusk fell, 

Looking at the switchbacks on this hill, knowing I had to walk up it...

Looking back down from the top of the hill, we'd descended from the hills in the background, crossed the valley, and climbed this hill within the last hour.

Looking back down on the wind farm

and made another six miles before stopping to camp on a ridge.  The wind was insane but I got lucky and found a spot behind a tree whose low-hanging branches completely blocked the wind.  I woke up a few times in the night just from the sound of it, but stayed warm. 

May 30th

In the morning we set off for Tehachapi,

Looking out across the plains we'd crossed since leaving Hikertown

Taking a break at a water cache

The sign says that this cache is maintained by Daniel and Larry - thanks guys!

and worked out way downhill towards more wind farms.  

We arrived at the highway in the late morning, and shortly after the last person had walked up a big black truck pulled up and a friendly couple told us all to get in.  I was one of the two who rode in the back, laying down in the bed of the pickup so as not to get the driver in trouble, so I basically laid down in a gravel parking lot at a wind farm in the desert, and got up at a Best Western, big beds and showers and a hot tub and computers in the lobby and a friendly staff, and worked out to $23 a person once we split a room four ways.