We made a rookie mistake last night. When we got to camp, we saw a Nemo tent but didn’t see the people it belonged to. We ass-u-me-d that they were thru-hikers. They were not. They were townies out for a Saturday night. They had no concept of hiker midnight. They built a raging fire close to our tent. The woman had the voice of a twelve year old girl, and, like a twelve year old girl, she never shut it all night. We stayed up until 9 and they were still going strong. I’ll bet they stayed up until after 10:30!
Bunny and I decided, while we were laying wide awake even after popping Benadryl, that we would get even in the morning. When our alarm goes off at 6, I’m going to snooze a couple of times and we weren’t going to be quiet getting ready. We’ll teach them to mess with thru-hikers.
Problem is, they (by they, I mean she) woke up at 5 and had to pee. Of course, she was too afraid to go by herself, so she started talking in a non-library voice. Since he had to get up to escort her to the privy (which from her squeals, she did not approve of), he decided to go ahead and build a fire. They were making so much noise, I’m sure they never even heard our alarm or snooze.
We did our usual morning routine which includes me making breakfast in bed for my bride. I start the coffee first and allow it to cool to the proper drinking temperature before I start to serenade her awake. I also made her favorite breakfast of blueberry granola (actually, second favorite behind biscuits and gravy—that’ll be tomorrow). When we emerged from the tent, the two were sitting at a picnic table eating breakfast and talking. I noticed she was dressed in a one piece chipmunk sleeping outfit (including feet). I now understood. This must be Strange’s sister (Strange from Mike’s Place who was sporting a 4’ tail when we met him).
They disappeared as soon as we started packing up. We managed to pull everything together and leave in short order. While Bunny was performing her final weight drop prior to departure, I went over to another thru-hiker I thought I might recognize. I’m pretty sure we had seen her in Wrightwood, but we didn’t know her name. It was Cliff Hanger. I told her about Newcomb’s Cafe where Bunny and I were headed for lunch.
The hiking day ahead of us was relatively easy. We only had a total of 1200’ gain all day with most of that happening first thing. Then it was all downhill from there to the cafe and then to our camping spot. We had less than 8 miles to go before we planned to leave the trail for a food stop. Bunny told me she didn’t want to plan our whole itinerary around food. Apparently, she has forgotten the two previous years of our life where all we plan for is what to eat, when to eat, and where are we going to eat it. It’s called thru-hiking. I calmly ignored my natural instinct to say any of this out loud and simply said “yes dear.” She loves it when I agree with her. I also forgot to tell her that I was only planning on hiking 12 miles tomorrow so we can order pizza on the trail.
A few miles in we saw a group of people hanging around a picnic table. We also noticed a pit latrine about 50 yards further, so we just figured a line was forming. We were wrong. This was Camp Glenwood, a Boy Scout Camp adjacent to the trail. As a form of magic, they have provided post cards and postage for thru-hikers to send messages home that: all is ok; or that minimal damage has occurred but we’re pushing on; or that a member of the party has died but they would have wanted us to soldier on…we’ll tell you who died when we get home, but until then, we’re hiking to Canada, still.
We told several more hikers about the Newcomb Cafe and even called to verify that it was open. (Side note to my dad: I know I usually call when I get a signal, but some things trump a call home, greasy food being one of them. I’m sure we’ll have talked before you actually read this…I know my dad is one of my regular readers and you’ve got to play to your audience). It was open.
When we got to the road crossing, all we had to do was hitch a ride for the short 2 miles down to it. Problem, no traffic. We started walking. A motorcycle passed us. Then some really nice cars passed—a Mercedes, an Audi, a Corvette. Very well off people are not as likely to help strangers. The first thought popping into their minds is along the lines “get a job, you hobos. I worked hard for my $50K car and I’m not letting the likes of you soil it’s leather seats.” What we needed was an older car. Then a single mom with her daughter in the back seat stopped to pick us up. It was not a fancy car. It was not a rich driver. It was a waitress who just got off work and picked up her daughter. She was a waitress at Newcomb’s Cafe who knows about PCT hikers and hiker hunger. It was an angel sent from heaven.
Brianne and her daughter took us right to the door. She told us that the restaurant is a big biker and classic car hangout. She also told us Jay Leno comes up here quite often (we are only 50 miles from LA). We went in and no one batted an eye with two hikers carrying packs walking through the place. We found a table and ordered our drinks and burgers. There was even an outlet by our table for us to charge our electronics. There were hundreds of bikers (the old men trying to recapture their youth type, not the gang type). The only thing we didn’t see was another hiker: inside or out.
As we were leaving, trying to hitch a ride back up the mountain, we finally saw another hiker. Cliff Hanger was walking down the road. We just talked briefly in passing because we already knew we were all heading to the same camping spot tonight. We waited for an easy hitch. It didn’t come. We tried to yogi a ride from a guy with an Hummer. Big Surprise, “I’m going the other way. 2 miles will make me late,” followed by a 10 minute conversation in the lot. We saw nice car after nice car pull out. We started walking, uphill, in the snow, both ways.
About a mile later with only motorcycles having passed us, Bunny gave up and put her head down, and walked with a purpose. I’m a little more stubborn. I still put my thumb up with every vehicle. Finally, an older car with a dog in the backseat (our target audience) pulled over and offered us a ride. Bunny’s opening remark was “Its only a mile. We can walk if it’s too much trouble.” Which, quick on his feet Easy followed up with “But thank you for saving us a mile of road walking which kills my feet.” Bunny needs some hitch hiking training. I was doing this for 3 weeks before she started last year, but I gained several experience years in those 3 weeks.
All together, we had only walked a little over a mile off trail to cover the 4 mile round trip to the cafe. It had only cost us an hour and a half to get burgers and fries. With any luck, we’ll get to a full camp and ask everyone coming in if they had the greatest burger on the trail today. (It wasn’t, but they won’t know since they didn’t put up the time or effort—I won’t even wipe the mustard off of my face for a day or two to drive home the point.)
We made the final 3.6 miles to camp only to discover we had it all to ourselves. We were pretty sure Cliff Hanger was coming so we picked a preferred spot with enough room for her to camp close by. Barely had we set up before she showed up. She had gotten a ride back right away. She went to set up her tent. Another guy walked up and asked if there was a privy. We pointed to it but he stopped dead. He said “I can’t believe it. I know you, Bunny Tracks, from the AT last year.” How could he remember Bunny Tracks yet forget me, Easily Forgotten?
It was Devin who we had hiked with for a while after Duncannon, PA. It didn’t take long to jog our memories. I think he remembered Bunny so well because he was impressed to be hiking with someone his grandmother’s age. He forgot me, initially, because hiking with someone your dad’s age is pretty common on long trails.
Eventually, several more people did show up. Cliff Hanger joined us for a cup of tea. I learned my lesson from my whiney ass niece who wouldn’t even try the tea that I bought for her when she found out what it was. I told Cliff Hanger I’d give her tea, but she couldn’t ask what it was until AFTER she tasted and told me if she liked it or not. Like a grown up, she agreed (quite unlike Ferball). She took a couple of sips and said she loved it, what was it, and where can she get it. The answers: Egyptian Licorice Tea, most big grocery stores, or there’s an extra box in my niece’s cabinet in Chicago.
EFG