Alpaca Farm – The Trek

The Alpaca Farm alternative has generally been the best alternative to date (and I write this after completing the entire Big Sky alternate). Despite the long walks necessary to get there, it was an oasis worthy of walking hundreds of road miles.

Very early in the day, Burgs, Dustin and I encountered an entire train of people in a dripping of a water source: the sas and jugular British, numbers, rockets, weatherman, matcha and freighter. We are forged by the path until he met with the dirt road and from there we began to disperse. During the rest of the morning and afternoon until you reached the Alpaca farm, Dustin, Hamburgar, freighter, matcha, and suffered the gravel and the hot earth.

We sing and dance along the way, anything to break the monotony. He felt long at the same time when we finally saw the first glance of the farm. Despite the rush to get there, the last mile was more or less slow. The trees lined road opened to Bald Rolling Hills that reminds of a computer screen protector from the elementary school.

There were horses along the line of the fence that was approaching as if they asked to be caressed and, therefore, we forced it. There was also a half -sunk wood shed lying down in a shallow pond. Whether I was in my head or out loud, I repeated, Salt from my swamp! And when we saw a long row of old bicycles aligned against spike wire, it was evident that we had finally reached the Alpaca farm.

We left on the front porch of the farm with a sandwich in one hand and a cold drink in the other. I chose a Pepsi. That was the magic of the Alpaca farm, hikers and cyclists were spoiled at no cost and with simple instructions to respect property, alpacas and pay it.

I lay in the lower front step on my back, my feet resting on the upper step. It seemed that the flattest of the road, more painful was the walk and my feet were swollen and prospered with heat. We rest for a while trying to decide to walk or stay at night. The pull of the stomachs full and an inner abode was strong and shortly after, we met the hosts of the farm and we were sure that we would stay at night.

After placing my backpack inside the small cabin marked with our names written in dry erasure marker, I retired once again in the shadow in the front of the house and separated from the bank’s swing. I wrote diaries of trails until Dustin joined me and one of the hosts stopped to talk to us. He appeared as John. «Think of us as John Mayer and Barbara Straysand,» he said, since apparently the famous names of John and Barbara they used were no longer recorded with young people. He began his monologue about the rules of the farm and the purpose of the farm. I heard with intention because I would do anything to support and preserve this small portion of heaven.

Once he finished speaking, I appreciated him profusely for everything they had offered us there during the last hour and asked if there was a way of donating. Using a tone without bull, he said they did not take any donation. He continued with a little more humor saying something like: «If you give me $ 20, I will buy beer. If you give the person or the hiker 20 $, it is possible that you have returned their day. If you are stupid enough to leave money after this speech, the cyclists or hikers will be helped to get the bicycle equipment solved or the new shoe. Fund line. Do not leave money. And with that we all nodded and we followed the rest of our relaxing night.

I filled my time lying in the grass under a frigid sprayer with Dustin. Although none of us lasted a long time because every time the water shook over us, my muscles were squeezed in response and it was not the relaxation I was looking for. So we retired to the chairs under a small dinner in the middle of the shed for cabin converts. Cyclists and other hikers leaked throughout the afternoon and until well at night. The small crew behind us finally trampled along with Super Noodz and much later that night, Plan B, who had been walking hard from Augusta to reach everyone, since he had to stay more days waiting for new shoes.

However, before he went too crazy, I took my turn in the shower silo. I pumped warm water on my body and put my dirty clothes under my feet to absorb my soapy water. It was not elegant, but it was better than anything. When I finished, I felt much cleaner without legs covered with dust and sweat. I felt human again.

The rest of the night was sitting among other hikers and bicycle packers again, sharing stories and a bottle of wine provided gently by the hosts. Dustin had the kindness of making a family -sized spaghetti box for some of us, who beat him with remaining tuna and cookies of our own food bags.

Finally, we all retire to our little sheds or tents. Plan B entered the herb covered area when the sun stood behind the mountains and offered our fourth litera. Not long later, we were all silent in our 2’x6 ‘bunk beds’ trying not to move too strongly in the suffocating heat of shed without windows.

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.