Filth to Fastidiousness - Thursday, May 29

The Anderson's are kind and generous to a fault. They maintain a water cache with cases of beer and pop and gallons of water as well as feed and entertain hikers every night in their home for two months. The condition of their house suggests they are not independently wealthy, quite the contrary. The house and grounds are filthy, dirty, disheveled and disorganized with mounds of garbage and scattered debris. Yet, they happily feed and shelter hikers each night at considerable expense in spite of the obvious disruption to their lives.

The disheveled nature of their home fits well with the condition of PCT hikers who arrive daily covered in dirt from the trail accustomed to filthy living conditions. Many who hike the trail are young and in the process of defining and discovering who they are; experimenting with lifestyles, drugs, friends, sex and more. Often it is a lifestyle throwback to the hippies of the sixties, as are the Anderson's. A little crude, but well intentioned.

We awoke and arose about 8 and headed for the house. The husband, Joe, serves up pancakes for a few hours from the kitchen in the house. The house is off limits in the afternoons and evenings but open for breakfast.

We entered the front door to a cluttered living room with a small kitchen to the side where two electric griddles were churning out pancakes as a line of hikers stood waiting their share. The living room had a few couches against the walls where diners were inhaling pancakes while the TV news blared. We scored two pancakes on our paper plates, dabbed them with butter and sloshed on the syrup from Costco sized containers and retreated to the front driveway to eat. We chatted a bit, went for seconds and then walked the ten minutes to the quickie mart for a Pepsi and a respite from the crowd.

While seated at a table outside the store sipping our pops Tarzan came by, having eaten breakfast at the local restaurant across the street rather than brave the unsanitary conditions at Casa de Luna.

We laughed and talked for half an hour about the paradox of Casa de Luna and hoped our dinner and breakfast would not ill effect our health.

We walked back and headed into the forest to pack up. We stopped on the way out with our loaded packs to shower, as it was vacant. Four shower curtains held up by steel pipes above a fork lift pallet floor with a gas heater and hand held shower head in the middle of the back yard is hard to resist, so we each cleaned up before Toni arrived to drive us to Tehachapi.

Around the front of the house Terry Anderson wanted to be sure to get a picture of us, so she handed her camera to another hiker, then as he prepared to take our picture Terry turned her backside to us and dropped her pants, mooning us to elicit a smile or look of surprise. We asked to get a picture with her. As we posed with her inbetween Sally and I she squeezed Sally and my butts all during the picture taking process. Quirky.

Kind Toni arrived shortly and we were off in her Toyota for Tehachapi. The drive took about an hour and Sally and her had a nice conversation while I sat in the back seat. She immigrated to America when young and slowly learned English as she worked long hours to make ends meet. Now she is married and has a daughter, Emily, a 1st grader who we got to meet during our ride the night before. She dropped us off at the Tehachapi airport where we had heard we could camp in the airport park and spend days in a hanger. A phone call to the airport manager confirmed that we could stay in the Pilot's Lounge during the day, a house with kitchen, bath, recliners, TV and computers. All immaculately clean. Such luxury.

We met John at the house, a pilot and former engineer with Grumman aircraft that had just retire that day. He drove us around town to show us what was available and then we got to visit his hanger where the plane he built 30 years ago is kept. What a work of love and beauty! He flys it nearly everyday and it is spotlessly maintained. In talking we also found he worked on LEM 4, the lunar module that Armstrong commanded to the first landing on the moon. He had just finished rebuilding his 40 yr old son's Piper Cub and had flown it back to the east coast where his son lives. John was kind, soft spoken, modest and had a twinkle in his eyes that showed he had a zest for living and many projects in his future.

John dropped us off at the bakery in town where we indulged in an eclair for Sally and a granola bar like no other I have had for me.

We walked back to the Pilot's Lounge and relaxed the rest of the day before using Dial-a-Ride to get us to Walgreens to pick up Sally's prescriptions. We walked the mile and a half back.

We moved out of the lounge and to the picnic area near the end of the runway near dark to camp, but found the sprinklers on. We found an area out of their range, but realized when the sprinklers now operating finished their cycle the ones near us were likely to come on while we slept. I called the airport manager and he guided me to the control panel that allowed me to shut them down for the night.

The contrast between the fastidiousness of John's plane, hanger and the Pilot's Lounge and the clutter and crude humor of the Anderson's was as remarkable as the start and ending of the day, but the one constant across them both was the kindness, giving and caring they both showed. What a wonderful adventure we are blessed with.