My friend, Becky, went out to see me (day 35 for me) for a couple of days on the road. After listening to my stories of Trail Magic and Trail Angels, I knew I would not be satisfied just by helping me. I also wanted to support the entire community of wonderful people described.
When he described his experience later, I realized how different the experience of mine path was, so I asked if I wanted to share it. This is his story about being an angel of trails.
– John / Oatmeal Tea
Kelso Valley RD
When my Ford Jamboree left the Bakersfield plains, the narrow 178 highway and the songs shot from the shoulders, which forced me to reduce my speed. I didn’t know where he was going. I followed the pin of my GPS that John sent. The turn to Kelso Valley Road took me through a desert landscape with Joshua’s trees the only sign of life. There was rarely a house or campist in the twelve miles after leaving the road. A good place to throw a body. My RV fought while slowly climbing a greater elevation. At five thousand feet, I was finally there. Mile marker 617.
Kelso Valley Rd. PCT crosses it where it passes on the passage.
Hiker’s view approaches Kelso Valley RD.
It really didn’t seem a great destination. This is one of the few intersections in which Pacific Crest Trail crosses a paved road (John comment: The pavement ended 100 yards farther on the road). There were approximately forty, five gallons, bottles of water sitting on earth. Six backpacks, their red climate faces of ninety -seven degrees, sought refuge of the scorching heat, perched on a rock or reclining in the shadow of a desert bush. This water cache was a welcome site for them because they had just finished a long water transport, which means walking for fifteen miles without any water source that required transporting seven liters of water in their already heavy packages.
My grace dog and I left the RV. My frozen and soda lemonade offerings seemed to encourage them a bit. They also appreciated Mandarin oranges. But fresh brown butter, chocolate spark cookies with sea salt seemed to be the favorite. After the first, they were hooked. Manzanita, using her path, asked with Australian accent «can I have another?»
«Of course,» I replied.
«Oh, I will only divide this with my friend.»
I was firm. «No, please take one for each of you.»
«But I’ve already had two.»
«Ten as many as you want.» They had warned me about hunger for hikers.
Hikers enjoy magic
I took my camp chairs from the RV storage compartment. The two antigravity chairs were the most popular. They allowed the tired hikers to lie down and raise their blisted feet. The following favorites were those with incorporated shadow.
The hurricane reclined in the dust; The content of his pack dispersed around him. The kinesiology tape wrapped around the knees and feet. The path had taken an invoice.
«How did you get the name of your path?» I asked, offering a fifth cookie.
«Well, when I picked up my reluctant box at the Post Office in Idyllwild, things ended everywhere. Ten minutes before closing and the postal master began to produce the lights because he thought I would never leave. It seems that wherever I go, I believe chaos. Then, my friends called me a hurricane.»
The new hikers would appear at the top of the hill. They seemed relieved when they found the water cache and anxiously filled their bottles with fresh water. Each one stopped to rest for a while. None seemed in a hurry to continue his trip.
A hiker opened the hill, filled a bottle and lay aside. I listened to his conversation with another path of path. «I wasn’t sure I was going to do it. I felt hot and cold during the last five hours and I couldn’t stop vomiting.»
Many were walking alone. Sometimes they walked together, sometimes alone. They came from all over the country: Washington, Alabama, Oregon, Florida, California. Others had traveled far to walk on the PCT of 2,600 miles. There were representatives of Australia, Germany, Japan.
Another angel on the path stopped in his four -wheel truck. Trail Angels win their wings spreading acts of randoms from the magic of trails. He took a box of frozen palettes. This, in fact, was a real magic since we were at least thirteen miles from any freezer.
While I waited for my friend who planned to drink a few days zero (days without walking) and eat fresh food, I met these special people with a very diverse background. Everyone shared their love for nature and resistance to assume the search for the PCT. Everyone had their own reasons to walk along the path. Some had just retired. Some had just graduated and were trying to discover what to do with their lives. Manzanita was traveling with her partner. She decided to dedicate her walk to the LGBTQ community.
I heard another hiker talking to his two friends. «I think I need to take a break for a couple of days. All my joints hurt.»
«That is a good idea.» They reassured her.
«We are proud of you for listening to your body.»
«I can take you to the city when John arrives here.» I volunteered. I had no idea where the city was.
«Is it sure?»
«Absolutely.» I had no idea that Ridgecrest was an hour out of my path, but I felt honored to be a temporary part of this community.
Another hiker spoke of his reclined chair. «Can I take a walk too? I think I have heat exhaustion. I need to rest a little in a hotel with air conditioning for a couple of days.»
I brought him more lemonade. «Of course.»
Finally, I heard John’s voice in the distance, singing «Oatmeal Tea». It is a parody of the Goober peas and describes how it adds water to the remains of the food on your plate and then drinks it to avoid leaving any trace behind. Subsequently he became known as «oatmeal.»
I had to wait until Grace finished his enthusiastic meeting with John before he could hug. I ignored the sweat that mixed with the dust. I was happy to see him.
Grace, John, the two hikers and I climbed to the RV and headed towards Ridgecrest, where we all seek heat refuge.
John would have for me for four days before returning to Mile 617. But I was already making plans to bring more soft drinks, chocolate and even ice cream sandwiches when we did.
More magic
This website contains affiliate links, which means that the walk can receive a percentage of any product or service that you buy using the links in the items or ads. The buyer pays the same price that would do it differently, and his purchase helps to support the continuous objective of the walk to address his quality backpack advice and information. Thanks for your support!
For more information, visit the page about this site.
