Trail Town - Saturday, April 12

We rose this morning at our customary 3:50am, patched the blisters on Sally's heals, nibbled some Triscuits, drank some water, packed our packs, turned on our head lamps and headed up the trail. We were anxious to get to the small Forest Service community of Mt. Laguna by 9:00 when the Post Office opened. We had two tasks (1) pick up the resupply box we had mailed two weeks earlier and (2) mail home all the gear we had deemed unnecessary the day before. We were quicker on the trail than we thought and arrived in "town" at 7:30. To imagine Mt. Laguna picture Government Camp at Mt. Hood shrunk to four buildings on a highway. A Lodge-Post Office-Store, two restaurants and a Forest Service Office.
We immediately did what all hikers do, sought out the nearest toilet. Having taken care of business, we walked to the restaurant for hot tea and pancakes, then to the Post Office. We met a charming and incredibly helpful Post Lady who was obviously accustomed to shipping packages for PCT hikers. She helped us fashion a box from two Priority Shipping boxes into which we dumped my chair, Sally's Ukulele, assorted cord, mosquito netting, jars of lotion, Sally's swimsuit, bug spray, extra socks, bungi cords, an umbrella and more. When it came time to weigh it for payment we were hoping for big numbers, meaning a big drop in the weight we were carrying. We weighed in at about 8 pounds. A very satisfying number. And at $20 for shipping, $2.50/pound, cheaper than hamburger, we were pleased.
It was now 9:30. We had called from the trail the day before and reserved a room at the lodge, but it did not become available until 3, so we had some time to kill, something I am not accustomed to. When we walked out of the Post Office there stood our good friend Landy, so we began comparing notes, catching up from when we last saw her the morning before. Some other hikers arrived and before we knew it, it was 1:00pm.
Imagine an old Norman Rockwell painting of people on a general store porch gesticulating and engaging In animated talk and you have a picture of our morning. Only this group is seated on the floor in grubby, smelly clothes, munching on any food at hand.
We learned more about Mover back at Lake Morena. The fresh wounds gained by his drunken fall were turning to scabs and he was still waiting for his money and credit cards to come. More information about the illegal alien bust, details on the heat stroke kid that was air lifted off the trail during the heat wave, tales of blisters, sore legs, dehydration and stories from hikers home towns. We swapped some of our extra food for a fuel canister for our stove and, of course, had a Pepsi from the store.
About 2 the store owner called us in and told us our room was ready so we gladly accepted the key and disappointedly learned the laundry facilities were broken. He gave us two five gallon buckets and a cup of laundry soap to wash our clothes in, which is exactly what we did.
There is a twist to washing clothes on the trail. We only have one set of clothes. If they are being washed there is nothing to wear, so nude, Sally and I churned our clothes in the bucket in the bathtub, then I slipped on a pair of running shorts (what a luxury!) and strung a line outside our room to hang our clothes upon. It is about 43° with a 25 mph wind, so our clothes got cold, some blew to the ground and got dirty, but they did not dry. So we brought them inside, strung a line, turned the heat up to 90°, put a fan blowing on them and prepare to go to dinner with Kit and Backup, two kids we met on the porch today.
What to wear? What to wear? Everything was still wet. I put on my wet zippy pants and a damp shirt. Sally had nothing to wear but a fleece jacket. I mean nothing but a fleece coat. So in a pair of long underwear, no bra and only a fleece coat out the door to dinner she went. We had a great time. Landy, Far Out, Pilgrim, Ashley and Mark joined us. It was a really nice place, all pine logs and mountain ambience. It had caught fire the night before, but they patched it up and had it open for dinner. There was some conspicuous plastic tarp on the ceiling in the main dining room and a faint odor of smoke but it really is a nice place. Even had excellent live music. One of our new PCT friends, Pilgrim, a hiker/drifter from Plymouth, Massachusetts had gotten a job at the restaurant the night before, just before it burned, so he washed our dishes and then sat down to join us for dinner.

We returned to our room about 6:30, made some calls, sorted our food, packed our packs and made ready to leave our first trail town experience.