The first full day back on trail after Casa De Luna was rather uneventful. I had pushed hard all day only to arrive at the campsite and sit four hours, alone. I didn't mind the waiting. To occupy my time, I trekked .2 miles down an incredibly steep hill to the creek and hauled up gallons of water like a pack mule. I would offer it to the others when they arrived to save them time and energy. Other hikers came and went. I sat at the picnic table (a picnic table-- what a luxury!) and ate burnt mac and cheese. We had crossed the 500 mile marker earlier today. It didn't seem we had been out that long but we've been a full month on the trail. Finally the rest of the crew joined me as the sun set. They had taken a long siesta, but they made it. I went to bed early.
Hikertown is a a unique place. Owned by a former hollywood director, It was designed to look like a tiny town, complete with a doctor's office, post office, police station, school, store, and even a jail. I felt like I was walking onto a movie set. Each of these small buildings housed a bed or two for hikers to stay. I took a beeline for the shower, and after rinsing off, I joined some others to wait with Spygot for the shuttle to the store.
There was a turf war going on here, between Neenanch (owned by Hikertown) and Wee Vill. Both places fought over the limited business, and talked bad about the other. Plenty of stories flooded Guthook (the guide app) about how hikers were yelled at and kicked out of hikertown because they had gone to Wee Vill. You could feel the tension. I got on the shuttle to Neenanch, as it was easier to get to that place. But once I got there and checked out the cafe and resupply options, I learned the rest of the Rattlesnacks were at Wee Vill, so I called for a ride. The shuttle driver from Neenanch saw us waiting by the road and asked if we were going to Wee Vill. He shook his head in discust and pulled away.
Thirty frustrating minutes later, a lady in an old car pulled up to take us to Wee Vill. We were just about to hitch because we were tired of waiting. Relieved to finally be out of the sun, we joined the others and I ordered a burrito and BLT. Bellies full, we took refuge in the shade under a tree to let the heat of the day pass. After polishing off a pint of ice cream, I got a ride back to the trail. I was excited for the section coming up. The trail ran along the LA aqueduct across the Mojave Desert, and although hot and exposed, it was going to be a good change of pace. The sun was hot but the wind was cool and the trail was flat underfoot. It was lovely; I have been blessed with fantastic weather thus far. Usually hikers have to trek through this section in the early morning or after the sun sets to avoid overheating.
Soon I approached a long ribbon of blue rolling across the golden sand as far as the eye could see. After a few miles following the water, the trail turned onto a big brown pipe. Water rushed inches below my feet as I dodged the rivets where the welders merged thick plates of metal together. The wind blew in heavy gusts, threatening to knock me off.
I let the others catch up (they had left after me) and we ate in the shade of the pipe, sheltered from the wind. When I stood up, I almost doubled over from being so full. The others took off at a fast clip, but I could not keep up, for my belly felt like it was exploding through the waist belt. I allowed myself to slow down to a more comfortable pace and soon fell behind. The trail turned into covered cement and I enjoyed waddling down the mindless path. The sun set and it grew dark. I hiked without my headlamp for a while, anticipating a full moon. I saw the light of the others ahead and danced and sang into the dark as I caught up. I pitched my tent among them, and fell asleep just as the full moon started to rise.
I woke before sunrise, and though I was still tired, I wanted to beat the heat and watch the sun come up. The trail wound through hundreds and hundreds windmills turning lazily in the gentle breeze as the sun flushed all pastels from the sky.
Turning away from flat desert, the trail finally meandered into the mountains, and soon I was sweating and panting under the hot sun. It was still early when I made it to the water source, and although I was wanting to get some more miles in before stopping, it was in amazing spot to rest.
Thus I spent the next five hours lounging about with the others, eating, talking, reading, and even watching a movie on Steak's phone. It was still hot, but there was a ways to go yet so I headed out and employed the method of shade hopping. After a few more breaks and another nap, I found myself on top of the mountain, where I was met with trail magic. I enjoyed cookies, fruit, eggs, and water, and took the shade and chair as an invitation to make dinner there. Fine dining with a view. As the others arrived we decided to just stay and camp; it was too good of a spot to pass up.
"You know it's going to be a hot day when you don't have to put on an extra layer in the morning," one hiker said. That was true the morning I hiked into Tehachapi. As I neared the road, I saw Coppertone's familiar set up and raced down to the chairs and shade. I ate cookies while I waited for a ride into town. That afternoon I found myself piled in a hotel room with eight other people. And all too soon I was back on the trail, light as a feather, for we were going to slackpack. Not only were we going to slackpack, but also hike southbound. I felt like such a rebel. With the open trail before me and no weight on my back, I took off at a break-neck speed. After the steep two-mile uphill, I took off at a run. Slackpacking was liberating. I loved the run; letting gravity carry me downhill with little effort. Gliding through the golden fields, thousands of wind turbines sprouted all around me, whirring in the strong wind. Amazing.
I stopped my watch when I hit the road. Eight miles in less than 2 hours. Yay. Goal met. Coppertone was still there. Hyped from dopamine, I slumped in a chair next to TC. Coppertone was about ready to pack up to leave, and although he joked about not giving anything to "slackers" he offered us a root beer float since we ran.
I spent the zero day sitting in the hotel room. Because I had gotten most of my chores done the day before, I was able to enjoy the day relaxing. It was the most chill zero yet. But all great days come to an end, and soon I was back on the trail, climbing back into the mountains among the Joshua trees.
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