Part 15: Where the white giants dance

Short night again: we got up at 5:30 am to finish the stretch to Tehachapi.

We quickly found Shepherd, who had camped across the road, and met Spilly Billy, a former PCT hiker from the class of 2023. He had camped there specifically to offer hikers the magic of 6am morning trails, and even professional photos.

It was a surreal scene: hikers with messy hair and dusty clothes posing in front of endless wind turbines in the middle of the Mojave Desert. But somehow, that was exactly what made it magical.

At one point in the conversation, Spilly Billy mentioned that he was a big fan of Sonic Youth. I almost laughed out loud. That was the band I had been obsessed with as a teenager and had seen twice at music festivals in France in the early 2000s. Funnily enough, Spilly Billy was probably fifteen years younger than me.

We continued walking all morning under the wind turbines. There was something fascinating about them: the slow movement, the immense force, the constant noise and yet an almost graceful elegance.

After a long uphill stretch of about 14 miles, we reached mile 549 and met Shepherd for lunch at a water tower that had been converted into a miniature oasis. There were jugs of water, chips, ramen, fresh oranges, and even two picnic tables with red umbrellas.

Perfect place for lunch.

While refilling my bottles, I noticed a little sleeping gerbil hiding on a shelf. Unfortunately I woke up the poor thing.

We still had no word from Arthur, who we assumed was behind us.

Lunch was luxurious: the beer Spilly Billy had given me that morning, Cheetos, tuna and cheese tortillas from Laughing Cow, and then a short nap under the umbrellas before Knightrider arrived.

The afternoon was brutal because of the wind.

It didn’t just explode: it swallowed you and spit you out. Every step felt unsteady and I gripped my trekking poles so tightly that my hands hurt the next morning.

I was the last to arrive at camp at mile 558 near Oak Creek, after Shepherd and Hummingbird. A sandy area by the creek awaited us, and the three of us set up our tents there while we discussed the plan for the next morning: hike the last 8 miles to Highway 58 and try to get transportation to Tehachapi.

We even tried calling a tracking angel number but it didn’t work.

Darkness fell quickly. I was about to get into bed when I saw a large shadow cross my mosquito net.

Spider.

And not a small one.

I couldn’t tell if he was inside or outside the store. Immediate panic mode.

I emptied the entire tent (sleeping bag, mat, backpack that normally serves as a pillow) and inspected every corner.

Nothing.

Huge relief. The spider was outside.

After that little adrenaline rush, I caught up on some news on my phone and finally fell asleep.

The morning was exactly how I like it: slow, calm and without alarms.

Since we only had 8 miles left, we had agreed to sleep a little longer. By 5:30am I was already awake anyway, so I caught up on some journaling and finally treated myself to something I’d been dreaming about since the start of the tour:

breakfast in bed.

I grabbed my bag of food from the tree where it had been hanging every night since May 6, climbed back into my sleeping bag, opened the lobby of the store, and made myself a dirty chai latte using the mix I’d bought at Hikertown.

Little luxury. Huge happiness.

Soon I heard the familiar sounds of zippers and movement from the Hummingbird and Shepherd stores, and the day officially began.

We packed up and walked the last few miles through the Tehachapi wind farm. Thousands of turbines surrounded us (almost 5,000 in the area) spinning slowly in the wind like gigantic white dancers.

Even with the gale-force wind, it was fascinating.

We hit the road around 11am, perfectly in time, we thought, to get into town and hit the legendary all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet we’d heard about from other hikers.

Hummingbird and I started walking down the road to hitchhike when we suddenly heard Shepherd shouting behind us and waving his arms.

A car had already stopped in front of us.

At this point, I honestly felt like we didn’t have to hitchhike anymore: rides just happened.

The driver, Harley, and his dog Chloe were from Tehachapi and were running errands when they saw Shepherd on the side of the road. Another incredibly kind gesture from a complete stranger.

He dropped us off at the Great Wall and we proceeded to enjoy an authentic feast of Chinese food.

After that, productivity levels fell dramatically.

Still, we forced ourselves to restock from Walmart while we were nearby. Inside Walmart, we ran into Brendon, an Australian hiker with a sprained ankle who we had last seen at Big Bear Lake. We also meet Arthur, surprise! – who had actually gotten ahead of us by taking a different trail exit.

Perfect timing, since we had planned to share a room together.

It took us over an hour to wander the aisles of Walmart like exhausted zombies searching for tortillas, tuna, snacks, and electrolytes. I also bought new insoles for my Brooks shoes in hopes that they will last me until Kennedy Meadows.

And since Walmart’s prices were too tempting, I also did a partial restock for the Sierra section.

Back at the hotel, the room was instantly transformed into classic hiker chaos: dirty clothes everywhere, gear strewn across every surface, showers running, mounds of food growing on the beds.

Hiker trash elegance at its finest.

I inspected my feet and noticed calluses extending from the heel to the arch on both feet. I really started to feel a bit like Ser Jorah in Game of Thrones, slowly turning into a man of stone.

It’s not a joke.

Dinner was surprisingly healthy for once: salads, guacamole, sandwiches, and some beers while we did laundry. At nine at night we were all asleep.

After a hearty breakfast of muffins, eggs, yogurt, fruit, a protein shake, and a very strong coffee, I headed to the post office to retrieve my two packages: my Big Bear bounce box and my old backpack, which I planned to send back to France.

The idea was to combine my Sierra resupply with the bounce box into one package.

Of course, this meant the usual ritual of packing, repacking, unpacking, checking lists, and redistributing weight. The guys kindly refilled my fuel cans using my new little Fuel Flip tool while I took care of the postal logistics, which took longer than expected.

I returned before paying and naturally our next stop was…lunch.

Yes. Less than four hours after breakfast.

In our defense, we knew the afternoon would be tough: a long seven-mile climb with fully loaded backpacks and extra water. The water sources ahead of us were scarce, which meant more weight on our backs.

As I left the hotel with my backpack on, I felt that familiar pre-trail anxiety wash over me.

And that brings me to the name of my path.

I finally got one during the previous stretch: Sherpa. Knightrider came up with this. You might think it’s because I slide uphill like a mountain goat or carry impossible loads.

You are welcome.

It’s because I vape constantly on the trails and typically walk with a vaporizer in one hand and trekking poles in the other.

Much less heroic.

But honestly, I liked it, so it stuck.

We took the bus back to the trailhead near Highway 58. Arthur decided to take a proper zero in Tehachapi, planning a nap, a movie, and one more night in civilization.

I won’t lie, I was a little jealous.

For some reason, I felt a little anxious to get back on the trail. Maybe it was the heavy backpack, the long uphill climb ahead, or simply the accumulated fatigue after more than a month with only a handful of black days.

But I also know that feeling never lasts long. As soon as I get back on the trail, it disappears.

I love being out there. Even with the dust, the wind, the awkward cooking positions, the sore muscles, and all the daily discomforts, the trail seems like the right place to be.

The bus dropped us off at mile 566 and the wind immediately welcomed us.

Violently.

We began climbing through bushes and Joshua trees as the gusts did their best to throw us sideways. I had 17kg on my back and I still almost lost my balance several times.

At times like that, I stop thinking about the day ahead and focus only on the next step. Inhaling, exhaling, left foot, right foot. No drama, no overthinking, just movement.

After about two hours of fighting the wind, we finally reached the top and continued for a few kilometers on a dirt road before reaching our campsite.

Dinner tasted amazing after the effort: Ritz crackers with cheddar cheese, French fries, and dried chicken fettuccine Alfredo.

Luxury.

I tried to ration the water carefully. My three liters had to last until the next morning and until the next water source five miles away.

That day was one of those days where I wanted to test myself a little.

Shepherd walks at an impressively fast and steady pace, and I decided to try to keep up with him throughout the morning. Not out of competition, but out of curiosity. After five weeks on the road, had I really gotten stronger?

We carried three liters of water each, which turned out to be exactly the right amount, and the cool morning temperatures helped a lot.

For the first half of the day I felt strong. The climbs hurt, of course, but in a manageable way. Trail running had definitely helped me adapt to the long days of hiking and the changes in elevation.

We planned a late lunch after about 25km, and when we stopped we spread out the tent tarp and sleeping bags to dry out the condensation from the night before.

Lunch was a real feast: Cheetos, tortillas, Slim Jims, tuna, a small bagel, and trail mix with M&Ms. Hummingbird arrived shortly after us and we all collapsed into a short nap.

But the afternoon heat hit harder. Even with the alternating shade of the tall pines, my legs lost some of their morning energy, so I slowed the pace a bit.

The big milestone of the day was crossing the 600 mile mark.

That felt good.

Hummingbird had moved ahead during the afternoon and I left lunch about twenty minutes before Shepherd. I didn’t see him again until three kilometers before the camp, when he calmly passed me.

Not bad, honestly.

We all regrouped at Robin Bird Spring, pitched our tents close together, made dinner (mashed potatoes for Shepherd and Hummingbird, macaroni and cheese for me), and settled into camp life once again.

Then came the usual nightly tasks: dressing my feet, filtering more water, and organizing food for the next day.

Final count of the day: 40 km and a new blister.

Welcome to the family.