It was raining when we turned in last night. Richard Skaggs, the owner of Hiker Town, had shown up and invited us into his house to get warm (none of the buildings in Hiker Town are heated with it being situated in a desert in Southern California). Bob, the host who works for Richard, has won 3 technical Emmies and Richard was part of a production team that won an Oscar. Richard’s wife is the force in the family that fell in love with the hikers when they started buying land in the valley 16 years ago. She saw a bunch of hobos in their yard and told Richard to go chase them off. Over time, they discovered what the PCT was and started building up Hiker Town. Richard and Bob went out of their way to help us, even loaning us vehicles to drive to the cafe/convenience store 4 miles down the road.
Richard and Bob had told us snow was predicted over night. It was definitely cold enough. We all agreed that if there was snow on the ground, we would take a zero. I was hoping, wishing, praying for snow because my ankles are hurting. I’ve never been this old before and it’s catching up with me. When I got up at 5 to pee (we’ve been through this, already. Yes, I’m an old man with, possibly, an enlarged prostrate, but two checks is enough for me. I’ll live with it), I looked out the window and only saw white. I was hopeful for the possibility of sleeping in. When Bunny’s alarm went off just before 7, I put on my glasses and saw white…sand. I was a bit bummed.
Ivy came in and asked to use our shower since we had hot water. I told her I wouldn’t be hurt if she wanted to still take a zero to put the seed in her mind. If the youngest in the party wants a zero…we’d have to take a zero, wouldn’t we? We went out to find Wolf and get his opinion. He was gung ho to go. Military discipline is a curse. He wanted to be on the trail by 8 if possible. It was COLD out. We could see fresh snow in the mountains where we had been yesterday and fresh snow in the mountains ahead of us. It’s closing in on us. I could prevent an 8 o’clock start at least. If we pushed it too late, he might decide to take a zero and then we’d be golden. I read a weather report predicting snow flurries on Friday in the mountains between us and (Why was the chicken sitting on a pod?) Tehachapi and I’m not thrilled about that.
Richard loaned us one of his trucks today because Bob had to take his BMW in for an oil change. The oil is the least of its problems, but it runs and we were thankful for its use yesterday. We went down to the cafe and had breakfast. Wolf was getting antsy. When we got back, it was almost 9. Bunny and I hadn’t even started packing. We waited to see what Wolf was going to do. There still might be hope. We looked around for him, but he was gone. So was all of his gear. Damn, we’re hiking.
Bunny and I hurried, somewhat, thinking we might be able to get out just a few minutes after Ivy, but she surprised us and took her time. She ended up heading out with us and hiked with us all day. She has obviously been drawn to my trail singing voice.
We found ourselves in a somewhat unexpected situation of walking in the desert with coats, stocking caps, and gloves on trying to stay warm and hoping it wouldn’t snow on us. As the day progressed, we worried a bit less about the snow but hoped it wouldn’t rain. These are not the usual concerns people have when walking this section of trail. We thought the 17 level miles would be a blessing and we’d make good time. We did average more than 2.5 mph with breaks, but it was brutally respective miles. It felt like the scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail when he’s running at the castle and the guards watch him, but he never gets closer. Ivy said it was like being on a treadmill going nowhere.
It was interesting walking along the different phases of the LA aqueduct. Initially, we walked along an open channel of water. Next we came to a section of pipe about 6’ in diameter. The interesting part of this section was that it had been hot riveted together. Miles and miles of rivets. There had to be millions. The time and effort it had taken to install this pipe back in the 1930s or 40s. This section of pipe eventually led to a modern concrete channel about 8’ wide but completely buried in the sand, so no telling how deep it was. I don’t know if there is more than one aqueduct or what percentage of LA’s water supply this channel represents, but this is an impressive engineering achievement.
This is the flattest section of trail we will ever hike. Even flatter that the section of the AT around Boiling Springs, PA that we hiked last year. At least on the AT, we did have some sections of trees to shade us. The only trees we saw today were Joshua Trees which don’t really provide any protection from the sun. No skin off our buts since it never made it much over the mid 50s today. I’ve said it before, but I can’t imagine hiking this in the real heat of May or June.
We had plenty of time to think today. At least I did since I’m a male and former engineer. I don’t know what Bunnys do to pass the time. I have a new comparison between the AT and the PCT. Washington is about the same length as VA at 533 miles. California is the equivalent length of the other 13 states on the AT. That means Oregon is the difference between the two trails at about 450 miles difference in overall length.
Our camping spot for the night was under a bridge that the aqueduct crosses a dry creek bed. I’m assuming it’s really just a flash flood channel from the mountains ahead of us. The reason we chose this spot is there is a faucet that the LA Department of Water Planning turns on for hikers to use. We saw in Guthook that it had been turned on March 1 and a verification that it was still on March 16, just 5 days ago. The next known water source is in another 7 miles. Bunny and I aren’t up to a 24 mile day yet.
We got to the spot just a few minutes before 5 to find Wolf talking with another hiker that had flipped up from Paradise Cafe, like us, except he went all the way up to (Why was the chicken sitting on a pod?) Tehachapi and is hiking sobo. Wolf told us the faucet is off. I’m not from Missouri, but I’ve lived there long enough that I still had to try it myself. He wasn’t lying. Why in the hell would LADWP turn off the water now? Are they trying to suppress my trail voice? It’s going to take more than a quiet faucet to shut me up. If you don’t believe me, ask Good Chip Norris, Bear, or Sassy, all of which we hiked and sang with last year on the AT.
Tangerine told us there is a water cache with about 15 gallons of water in another mile. He was still going to hike further south tonight before stopping. Bunny and I only have about a liter and a half between us. We were counting on this faucet. Ivy and Wolf both offered us water, but I didn’t want to take theirs. I still wanted hot tea tonight and hot coffee in the morning which means I’ve got to find 2 liters of water.
I went back to see if I could find the shutoff somewhere. I couldn’t. I decided to walk around a bit and see if I could find some other water. I did. It had rained last night and there were lots of puddles. Unfortunately, they were all muddy. However, on the bridge, I found a clear puddle. If I calmly dipped about 1/2 ounce at a time, I could fill my jet boil pot to get us water which I did.
I, the hunter, returned victorious to my nesting wife. I thumped my chest and said “totongo.” As any woman would be, she was proud and swooned at my ingenuity. Then she killed the moment by saying “fix the mashed potatoes and spam for supper.” After all the mashed potatoes we ate last year on the AT, I swore I’d never eat 5hem again. I even offered to have a tuna wrap instead. No, it’s mashed potatoes and 🎶 spam, spam, spam, spam, wonderful spam, glorious spam 🎶. It’s going to take more than a shut off faucet to shut me up.
EFG
I wandered lonely as a cloud by William Wordsworth. Do I get a prize?
We have a winner!