Yesterday, after all the other hikers left me alone under the bridge at Cottonwood Creek, I was relaxing, hoping the jelly my thigh muscles had turned into would coalesce into actual muscle fiber again by morning. Suddenly, a big blob of bird shit hit me. I looked up at the bridge I was laying under and saw streaks of bird shit on the supporting columns and quickly realized I was preparing to sleep under some large, nocturnal bird of prey’s nest. Luckily, all my gear was on a single sheet of Tyvek which I quickly drug out from under the “drop zone”. I cleaned up with a baby wipe and went back to my vegetative/healing state.
The night was uneventful and I slept like a log, lulled by the background hum of gigantic windmills rotating and generating through the night.
I did not set an alarm, but woke up at 5:00 am. Instead of using my pot to eat my granola with milk, I made the milk in the sandwich bag the powder was in, then poured the milk into the sandwich bag the granola was in and ate out of the bag. Quick and no clean up.
I was packed up and on my way by 5:38 am. I had three liters of water on board, knowing there was water 6 miles up the trail.
For the first four miles the trail wound through the forest of gigantic windmills, heading northwest toward the Tehachapi mountains. I caught up with Cheeto and his wife Ruby in about an hour. They had only hiked two miles last night after leaving the bridge before camping for the night. I had only briefly talked with him at Hiker Town and again briefly under the bridge. Now we got to talk as we worked our way uphill through the windmills. Cheeto is a 65 year old guy who worked a variety of jobs, none of which you would classify as a “career” (his words). He and his wife Ruby live in Maine. In retirement he does paid Nordic ski patrol in the winter and works part time at a bike repair shop as a mechanic. Super kind and soft spoken, I really enjoyed his company. Leaving the windmill farm and starting some switchbacks up onto the side of the mountains, we passed more of the “under the bridge” gang.
At 6 miles from the bridge is the last water for the next 17 miles. It is a very small “creek”, the water was cool and clear. I filled up with five liters of water, about 11 extra pounds. I was still planning to hike 14 miles for the day, spend a night, then hike the 10 miles out to Tehachapi, spend a night at the Motel Six in Mojave, catch the Monday morning bus to Lancaster and then drive back to Yosemite to spend Tuesday with Sally, her last day off for the week. Sniper, a late 20’s red headed girl, Skywalker a late 20’s guy, Newt (same), Garbage Disposal (GD, same) and a couple others whom I can’t remember their names were also filling up on water.
People trickled out of the ravine as they completed collecting their water. I was in the middle of the pack. The trail was totally exposed to the sun. I was thankful it was still fairly early (9 ish) because the southern exposure would have been a scorcher later in the day. The trail contoured around the end of rounded ridges, gently rising and falling as it entered and left each ravine. Suddenly, it dropped 500’ into a deep ravine. Here I stopped with Sniper and GD to rest because our next 3 miles was a 1600’ switchbacking climb up to the ridge top. I found out Sniper’s mom was parking at the Tehachapi trailhead and hiking in 6 miles to meet her daughter while we talked and bantered, weighing resting longer against the rising temperatures as the morning progressed.
Ten minutes of rest and my pack was back on and I was sweating up the climb. The place I was planning to camp was at the top. An hour and a half later, as I approached the top and the camp area I noticed all the kids that had been in front of me were all congregated in one area. Oak, Hippy Gipsy, GD, Sniper, Skywalker, Newt and Sunshine we’re enjoying some totally unexpected trail magic. Chairs, water, bags of cookies and apples were left by trail angels, right on top of the mountain. I had an apple and a bag of cookies and enjoyed getting to know everyone a little more. Newt mentioned a place in Tehachapi called “Wits End”, a PCT haven where packages could be mailed and where they coordinated trail angels to pick up hikers and bring them to town. I looked them up on the web, found their number and sent a text asking if an angel would accept a full tank of gas and dinner if they would drive me to Lancaster. They texted back that there was bus service and sent the link. I had decided to hike the ten miles out and let serendipity get me to Lancaster so I was walking down the trail as I received and sent texts. I double checked the schedule for the Kern County Transit bus as I walked, the disjointed bobbing motion of the phone and my head making it difficult to read the rows and columns of times and destinations. I found that the last bus of the day from Tehachapi to Lancaster left the Kmart in Tehachapi at 4:35 pm. I was nine point five miles from the trail head. It was 1:00 pm. I had three hours and thirty five minutes to walk 9.5 miles, hitch a ride to Kmart, find the bus stop and board. I picked up my pace as I calculated I needed to exceed three miles per hour to make it to the trailhead in under theee hours, leaving me a little more than thirty minutes to hitch a ride to Kmart. Talk at the trail angel cache on the mountain top and with Big Red from two days earlier lead me to believe Tehachapi had amazing trail angel coordination. I hoped this would work as I pounded down the hill.
I passed GD, Newt and Skywalker during the decent. I came upon Sniper, standing with a woman I did not recognize and said hi as I passed by. About a minute down the trail I realized it was her mother and stopped to let them catch up so I could meet her. I apologized for being an idiot, introduced myself, chatted for a minute, then continued my “sprint” for the bus.
The White Pass Ski Patrol banquet and awards ceremony was happening while I was hoofing it. I called Max, hoping he was attending. He was. I caught him in the bathroom taking a break from the meeting. We FaceTimed as I hiked so I could show him the forest of windmills I was again hiking through. Now I was down to less than two miles and I could see cars parked at the trailhead in the distance. I was hoping that these were trail angels waiting to give hikers a ride to town. Sure enough, 35 minutes later as I walked into the parking lot two men stood outside their cars and asked me if I needed a ride to town. I sheepishly asked if they could get me to Kmart by 4:35 pm, feeling like I had been given a gift and was asking for something more. One of them said sure, no problem and had me put my pack in his Subaru wagon. It was only 3:45 pm, so we waited another 10 minutes to see if any others emerged from the trail. None showed, so we loaded up and headed to town. As we were leaving the parking lot another car was entering. Another trail angel coming to see if any hikers needed rides. Wow!! What kind and thoughtful people!! I introduced myself as “Coach” to my driver. His name was JT. We chatted during the 15 minute drive to town. He said the angels are all coordinated at “Wits End” by a guy who thought he could be more useful coordinating all the angels rather than making endless trips to check for hikers. JT estimated there to be about 200 trail angels in town helping to transport hikers. He said today had been their busiest day of the season so far with upwards of 35 hikers shuttled to town. He confirmed my findings about the nature of PCT hikers. All were confident, well spoken, extremely thankful and appreciative for the rides, conversational and very interesting people. He said he often hung out at Wits End just to talk with the hikers because he enjoyed getting to know them.
We got to Kmart at 4:15 pm. I asked a very large lady sitting outside where the bus stopped. She pointed me across the parking lot and suddenly I remembered the location from when Sally and I had been here four years earlier. I ducked into the store and purchased two Diet Pepsi’s, then walked across the parking lot to the bus stop. I downed both sodas in the 10 minutes waiting for the bus, kind of wishing I had bought a third. The bus was on time. $3.00 for an hour and a half ride to Lancaster!! I told the driver it was way too cheap as I fed my three dollars into his collection machine. He laughed, asking if I really thought it was too cheap. The bus was spotless and comfortable. It looked brand new. There were only three of us. We stopped at a pizza place so the rider that had been on the bus since Bakersfield could use the bathroom. Then we were off, with two stops in Mojave, three in Rosamond and four in Lancaster before we stopped at the Metrolink parking lot where I had left my car four days earlier. I thanked the driver and started walking to my car. It had been longer than the 72 hour limit. Would it still be there, and if so, not vandalized?
There it was. I tossed in my pack, changed into my running shoes and cranked her up. She started immediately and purred like new. It was now 6:16 pm. The 5 hour and 45 minute drive put me at Sally’s at midnight. I gassed up and headed out of town. I called Ed and talked with him until nearly Bakersfield. I called Andy and talked to him as the sun set getting me 30 miles north of Bakersfield. I called Ken. We talked until almost Coarsegold. Now it was 10:30 pm and the road was nearly empty. I sped thru the winding turns from Oakhurst to Big Oak Flat enjoying flying around the tight 25 mph curves somewhere between 40 and 50 mph. I was super alert, scanning for bears and other wildlife on the margins of the road. None presented themselves. I coasted down from Crane Flat to Sally’s trailer, sneaking in with my lights and engine off, hoping not to wake anyone. I climbed into my bed where the passengers seat is supposed to be and was soon asleep. What a great day!! 23 miles of hiking. Great people on and off the trail!! Super good luck making transportation connections. Wow! Life is good!!
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