Author: Marcus

The trail today took is up and down, through desert chaparral.

Our destination for lunch was the Anderson’s house, a couple of trail angels. They were known mainly for their parties each night, but we weren’t going to stay, we just wanted to eat lunch and ask around about the next fire closure, the Powerhouse Fire Closure.

Unfortunately most people there seemed to be planning on hitching around it (and quite a ways past it, to the next trail angel house, called Hiker Town). We weren’t able to find recent information about the alternate.

After lunch and a delicious orange soda, we hiked back to the trailhead.

The alternate was an easy road walk down a hill, then through a small town, past a dried-up lake called Lake Elizabeth. It must not always be dry, since we saw signs prohibiting the use of boats with more than 10HP motors, in front of what was now a dust field.

In town, we had a nice dinner at a roadside restaurant called The Rock, which was made out of stone, because the previous building had burned down. I discovered that orange juice could be even better than orange soda. (And, they served Black Butte Porter, which was nice too).

Back on the road, we passed by several of the town’s attractions.

This section of the road had many bugs. We swatted them every few seconds, and quite often hit them. Sometimes 2 or 3 bugs in one swat.

We turned off the road, and started to head uphill, back towards the PCT. At the next water source (a spring coming out of a hillside), we met a very young thru-hiker, a teenager, who was hiking this section with his younger brother. They had grown up nearby. We noticed they never bothered to swat at the flies.

Unfortunately, by the spring, the bugs changed to mosquitoes, so see hurried on as quickly as possible.

Up the hill a bit farther was Upper Shake Campground, our destination for the night. It seemed to have no guests other than PCT hikers, perhaps because of the bugs. We did see a local walking his dog, wearing a head net to block the mosquitoes.

It was really hot in my tent that night, but I managed to sleep.

Elizabeth had a resupply package mailed to Hiker Heaven, and it was late. It had been sent 6 days ago, and was supposed to take 2-3 days.

Unfortunately, the Memorial Day weekend had produced more mail than the Agua Dulce mail system could handle – the mailman was just filling up his truck, and leaving the rest for later.

So we decided to stay in Hiker Heaven until the next mail truck arrived, that afternoon. In the meantime, we took the shuttle downtown to get a few errands done.

The first errand was breakfast. We tried the second of the three restaurants in Agua Dulce, and had a standard American breakfast. We ate with some of the hikers that we’d shared the shuttle pickup’s bed with. One of them had a lot of snow experience, and he convinced me that I should get Microspikes for the Sierras.

Next, we crossed the street to the grocery store, and bought our resupplies and some beer (a brown ale from Lost Coast, Downtown Brown).

On the shady front porch of the grocery store, we ran into Graham again. We shared the beer with him, and chatted (after figuring out how to use the floral metalwork in the patio furniture as a bottle opener). We learned that he had a trail name now: Sprout. It came from his practice of carrying a jar of mung beans in water. He waits for them to sprout, and then eats them.

From the shade of the porch, we watched it get hotter and hotter. It was pleasant drinking cool beer and hiding from the parching afternoon heat.

Except, I looked at my watch, and realized it was only 9 in the morning. We were all surprised by this. We’d gotten up, had breakfast, run errands, and were now hiding from what surely must be afternoon heat. Nope. The desert here feels like late afternoon heat when you’re barely done with breakfast.

We headed back to Hiker Heaven, and tried to fill the time until the mail arrived.

I searched the hiker boxes, and got a nice down jacket. It was lighter than my current jacket (but not as warm). I thought I’d give it a try, but kept my current jacket as a backup.

We had a leisurely day in Hiker Heaven. I split my time between working on this blog, and absorbing the atmosphere. Everything moved slowly. People sat on patio chairs, the lawn, or anywhere else there’s shade, while Credence Clearwater Revival played from a speaker hidden somewhere.

Eventually, the mail truck stopped by, and we found that Elizabeth’s package had been lost. So we set out, beginning our day of hiking around 5PM.

We ran into Sprout again, and hiked with him for a while. We learned that he used to work in Antarctica, improvising repairs for whatever mechanical systems broke.

It got quite late, and we had to turn on our head lamps. Something about a head lamp makes it hard to see the trail surface. It felt like all I could pay attention to was the huge bugs flickering through the light.

Our target for the night was Bear Spring, since we’d used up our water. But, it turned out to be running very slowly — maybe 10 minutes per liter — and there was a long line of people waiting for it. It could be hours before we got our turn.

I’d read a several-days-old report that there was a water cache about 2 miles ahead, just across Bouquet Canyon Springs Road. We decided to risk it, and head there instead of wait for the spring. If the cache was used up, we’d either have to turn around and come back, or go 13 more miles to the next water. So we headed on, quickly now, through a maze of creosote and moths fluttering through our headlights’ beams. Sprout decided to stay at the spring.

We were in luck, there was water at the cache. Not only that, but there was a campsite right behind the cache. We weren’t picky at that point, so we pitched our tents among the giant moths and alongside the highway noise, and went to sleep.

We packed up, I ate a meager breakfast, and we got started. Our next water source was a ranger station, about 5 miles out. Thoughts of food floated through my head, as we saw some long views down the hill.

At the ranger station there was indeed water – in coolers on a picnic table, set out for hikers. Not only that, there was an ice chest of cold soda and Snickers, sold on the honor system. I bought two sodas and two Snickers, and was feeling better fast.

Next, we’d be heading into a valley, through a hiker-friendly KOA campground, where we could refill water.

But on the way down, we were surprised to find a trail angel with a cooler, waiting at a picnic table in a parking lot. “Sorry, I’m all out of soda,” he greeted us, “all I’ve got left is beer.” It turned out to be good beer, too – Ballast Point Sculpin IPA.

His name was Jameson, he had come to the US from Switzerland to hike the PCT, but an ankle injury had stopped him. He still had time on his visa, though, so he was splitting it between tourism and trail magic.

We proceeded on to the KOA, and soon found that there was a little store near where we could get water. The store had ice cream, soda, and other things to combat the sweltering heat. We sat in the shade, ate our lunches, and had ice cream, juice, and soda.

So far, on this day when I was worried about going hungry, I ended up having an unexpected 3 sodas, 2 Snickers, ice cream, juice, and beer. I’d had a windfall of calories.

Leaving the KOA I walked through the sprinklers. I was dry within 5 minutes.

Leaving the KOA sent us across a small creek in the center of the valley – the creek was probably the reason that any civilization was built here. It gave us one last bit of unexpected shade before heading back into the burning sun.

Just out of the jungle, there was a humble monument commemorating the completion of the PCT. Just north of the KOA happened to be where the last two trail construction teams met, trans-continental railroad-style.

Further north, we passed under Highway 14.

Just barely north of the freeway was a tiny canyon with dramatic rock formations. It had been used as a low-cost set for several Westerns, including Blazing Saddles.

The valley also had signs labeling various indigenous plants.

The next landmark was the Vasquez Rocks, some large sedimentary formations that had also featured in movies. But the trail there was poorly marked, and we took a wrong turn. After retracing our steps, I made an arrow from a dead yucca stalk to point future PCT hikers in the right direction.

As we passed by the Vasquez Rocks, I saw a colorful sun shade in the parking lot. I was convinced it was more trail magic, but Elizabeth insisted I was seeing things, and wouldn’t walk the 100 yards to the parking lot to find out.

We continued north, and soon found ourselves in the town of Agua Dulce.

The PCT passes straight through Agua Dulce, along paved roads, so we got started on what looked to be an easy road walk. Our destination for the night was Hiker Heaven, a trail angel’s house in the northern part of town.

After a few minutes, a van pulled over next to us. The driver pretended to be from the “L.A. Society for the Homeless and Helpless”, and offered us meal tickets, or a ride into Palmdale to find work. The van was full of grinning backpacker-looking people, some wearing In-N-Out Burger hats.

He insisted that the PCT wasn’t here, that it had been moved 20 years ago, but eventually admitted to being from Hiker Heaven, and offered us a ride the rest of the way.

We wanted to walk the rest of the PCT miles, though, so a few minutes later, we were in downtown Agua Dulce. Dinner was sounding good, so we tried one of the town’s 3 restaurants, Big Mouth Pizza.

Hiker Heaven is a mile from the trail, and they run an hourly shuttle from downtown. One just left as we arrived at the pizzeria, so we’d have plenty of time to eat.

We ordered our pizza, and waited. And waited, and waited. They served the beer right away (Wolf Creek IPA, a very bitter California-style beer), but after nearly an hour, we had no pizza. We chatted with another hiker, a man in his 50s wearing a Montana marathon shirt. He got no pizza either.

Upon interrogation, the waitress said they hadn’t been able to find us (the restaurant was one room, and not busy). They had forgotten to make the Montana marathon man’s pizza entirely.

We got ours to go, so we could sit on the curb and wait for the shuttle. The shuttle was late too, so we got to eat our
pizza.

At last, we hopped in the shuttle, and were off to Hiker Heaven.

We got there, and found a well-organized, efficient hiker-processing operation. When each shuttle arrives, a volunteer instructs the new arrivals in things like how the resupply packages are sorted, where to put your laundry to have it washed, how to sign up for showers, where to pitch your tent, where the postal supplies and sewing machines are, etc.

It had been a long day. We pitched our tents and went to bed.