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05/01/02
An amazing day. Happy Beltane. Awoke atop the San Felipe Hills, 8 miles or so from Scissors Crossing. Hiked late with Dan [Scooter by the end] from Saucilito. Got to Barrel Springs by 1:15 with Zack 1, Mike, Restless Wind, DLow, Harriette, T., and Dan. I left them and set out for Warner Springs.
While the San Felipe Hills were mostly a switchback climb and lots of contouring through arid plants, the section into Warner Springs was full of open fields and amazing openness. It's the type of land locking into cattle ranches that most people don't get to see.

Lots of bike tracks on the PCT tread. I don't know why it pisses me off so much other than their illegal activity ruins the trail and makes it unsafe.
Lots of helicopter activity, presumably part of the War on Terrorism.
I walked the road to Warner Springs and soon found Frank Kroger had a room. We are splitting it. We went to dinner at the restaurant, then I went for a swim in the hot pool. I stretched and massaged and look forward to more in the morning.
The guys who stayed out of Warner Springs tonight are going to be pissed to know they could have gotten dinner.

05/02/02
Warner Springs is incredible. My morning swim was lovely. I was surprised in the daylight by the green color of the sulfur pool. Went to breakfasts and had two omelets (one Florentine, one Mexican), and two double orders of hash browns. Yum!
Next, the post office.

My knit hat arrived, Kary did most of it and worked with me on the colors. Janet finished it and mailed it to Warner Springs. I love my hat. It's on my head now.
My bounce box, mailed from Campo on 4/26, was there, but they couldn't find my resupply box, the most important box. I mailed it myself from Santa Cruz on April 22. I know to expect this kind of thing. Luckily it had just come in 10 minutes before. It hadn't been checked in yet. The trick of using orange packing tape is working: It makes it easier to find the boxes. They had a lot of everybody's boxes piled up.

I schlepped it all back to the room and got to work. First, I got all the batteries recharging, then I sorted through the stuff in the bounce box, taking and adding as needed, then I rummaged through my resupply box. I used the cardboard from my resupply box to wrap up my ice ax. I started with my ice ax because I didn't know where I'd need it in Southern CA, exactly. Turns out it was Fuller Ridge, which is clear. Wrapping an ice ax for shipping is no easy feat, but it can be done with a lot of packing tape. I then put together a box of stuff to ship home: extra food, other stuff I don't need. All in all, I sent out 5 boxes. I returned to the grill to delay my departure and set out around 11AM. Beautiful hiking across more open fields.

05/03/02
It's getting hotter, but there's still a little breeze once in a while. I'm at the jeep road with the Kamp Anza water stash sleeping with a bunch of other people. So far I know Patrick from Texas, Wild Child from the Confederacy, Mary from Bellingham, and Emily, who's moving to Alaska.
They are all in town, and I have camp to myself. They piled into the back of a white pickup driven by a straight couple out for an evening hike.
Before everyone left, Wild Child was going on about one NASCAR driver who was a real faggot and cocksucker as he was telling his tales of large trucks, huge amounts of alcohol, a vehicle I could only assume was an ATV that he likes to fly, and other amusing artifacts from his culture. He tells a good tale.
So now I need to figure out how to let him know that in the bigger culture, or at least in California, that it's not OK to call someone a faggot just because they are different from you. I know, in his culture, it's the worst thing you could be. That's why lots of gays and lesbians leave the South.
I really struggled in the moment wondering how to deal with it. As usual, I didn't want to make a big deal of it or embarrass him in front of his hiking companions. But I need to let him know that I don't feel safe around that kind of talk. He boasted about not being a racist, so I'm hoping I can tie a thread into that.
I'm sharing my ground cloth with Patrick, so first I feel like I need to let him know what's going down.
And this is the way I've always been: the meek little fag. Maybe I'll try it a different way. Stay tuned.

Everybody got back and they were funny. Patrick and I were giggling trying to go to sleep. Dear Emily....

05/04/02
Sitting at Paradise Cafe with Goof, Emily, the newly-coined Beef Cake (Mary). Beef Cake is inspired by Cupcake. Others pulled in as I was writing and eating.
Had really good salmon for lunch, lots of water, and I hiked back to the trail. I got a cruisy feeling to the PCT parking lot on the Palms to Pines Highway. Who knows?

The heat has started. We've been lucky with cooler temperatures and good breezes to keep us cool up to now. So, I finally deployed my mylar-covered umbrella. Those who are critical of them call them satellites, as in, "Are we still on the trail? Oh yeah, there's the satellite ahead" referring to Frank's umbrella.

05/05/02

Woke up at Cedar Springs Camp, grabbed water for the day, and headed out. Others were urging me to take a different trail back to the PCT. I don't consider myself a purist, but I didn't feel the need to miss a chunk on trail. I headed out alone as others went up the other trail. I expected to catch them at some point.
The views from the San Jacintos were amazing, both east and west. To the east: Palm Springs; to the west: mountains leading to ?. ? Ridge was great too: lots of winding and crossing across the ridge from one side to the other.
Goof was the first to catch up with me. Their trail wasn't. I told them to ask Yogi what she calls the PCT Guidebook. (It's The Book of Lies.)
Got off the trail around 4PM and got a ride to Idyllwild right away. Got dropped at the gear shop, then had Mexican food. Shawn from Chicago was looking for a roommate at the Tahquiz Inn, so I took him up. Laundry was next. My stuff never got this clean at home! Then another Mexican dinner at the other place in town.
Thru hikers all have a look or gait that gives them away in town. The look is lean, fast, and not quite clean. The gait is that of sore feet, or sore muscles.
Slept really well in the bed.

05/06/02
At Jan's Red Kettle with Load, Geoff, Brent, Chuckie (maybe Funny Bone) waiting for a good breakfast. We chatted a bit.
Got in the PO right as it opened, hauled it back to the hotel, then got out of there. Shipped two boxes on my way out of town.
So now I'm up the hill again at Saddle Junction. Idllywild was great. The guy who gave me a ride yesterday had the Moulin Rouge soundtrack in his car, the outfitter had the O Brother Where Art Thou? soundtrack, and Barbara from the Tahquitz Inn had the Santana hit, all music I love.
I have not allowed enough time in my schedule to get in and out of towns when I don't have a zero-mile day. Idyllwild was another massive to do list with little time left to hang out. One of my goals for this period of my life is to learn how to hang out. I've always got something going and it's not always fun.

Walked Fuller Ridge today. It was gorgeous. The trail winds along the spine which is full of rocks and trees.

I was hiking to try to catch Load and Chuckie and whoever else was with them.. It was getting later and later, and no sign of them. I then did the stupidest thing: I tripped myself up with my poles. I notice that I get clutzy when I'm tired and it's time to stop. I stopped to look at a map and saw that I wasn't too far from a campsite. I pushed to get there, but a quick inspection revealed that I'd be camping alone.

I was exhausted. I put out my bag near the edge. I could see down to the lights of San Gregorio Pass and I-10. I was under a canopy of trees, but the stars pushed through. I put on the Eye to Ear minidisc of classical music that Tom made for me. I was so overcome with the beauty, music, and wind moving over me that I began to cry. Not long after, I was laughing. The whole sensory input was surreal. Plus, I was exhausted.

05/07/02
Did I mention the wind? Today was a wicked-wild windy day. I woke up at the north end of Fuller Ridge. I knew I had 16 waterless miles and 7600' elevation loss, but I had no idea what it would be like.
The wind, the wind.
At first it was cold and windy as I watched the battle between the fog and the day play out before me. Then I just went down, down, down, and the wind just didn't stop. We are estimating that they are 30 mph with 50 mph gusts. It was ridiculous. I was laughing out loud.

I finally got to water, a fountain of sorts, at the bottom. It wasn't a dramatic I-found-water! moment. While hiking down, water was constantly on my mind. When I got there, the craving went away.

Toward the end of my day, I had to follow posts through the desert toward I-10. I could see the next post, then the next three. The fourth was a white cross. Then, no more posts. Here's the image: I'm hiking blindly toward a white cross through desert littered with all kinds of trash, in the roaring wind under high tension power lines with wind turbines in the distance.
I was finally able to see the next post and continue on without having to turn to the lord as the note under the cross suggested I do
.
Moving past the fountain, there's a quirky little private community called Snow Creek, where it never snows and there is no creek because the Desert Agency takes it.

We are at the Pink Motel, which at first I thought I'd pass. As the day progressed, I was glad it was here. I'm here with Geoff with a G, Chris, Coach, Frank, Load, Brent, Fred from Australia, and Rabbi Greg.
This place is a great gift and a trip. The Middleton's acknowledge that the front is a junk yard, so I hope they don't mind that I describe the two structures known as the Pink Motel as a tacked together set of incomplete projects, and all the stuff necessary to finish them around 'somewhere'. There's enough to make a few cars and trucks too.
It's very rustic and actually kind of fun. They've got wind power and solar power feeding batteries, but we are using candles and oil lamps. The sink has no water supply or proper drain. Chemical toilets are just a few steps away. It all works though, and it's way, way better than being out in the this wind.

05/08/02

Woke up at the Pink Motel. Coach was in the kitchen building with me, and Brent, Geoff with a G, Chris, Load and Phil from Australia were in the other building. Of course, the wind roared all night. Frank was up late packing up boxes in both rooms, so we all were up late.

Phil and Load got an early start. I headed toward the rising sun and the wind farm when I left with a small group.
The morning hiking was well graded and took us through some surreally arid areas, including a a windy traverse up to a cool ridge which went on quite a ways.
The abundantly-flowing Mission Creek was a wild surprise. It runs through a wide river basin that I assumed was dry. We all soaked our feet and washed up before getting to the task at hand: hiking.
The heat was up, and I walked the my umbrella deployed most of the day.
Soon we were walking deep into the Mission Creek canyon. It was comparatively lush and quite nice. It was dry in terms of water supply. We did over 25 miles to get to our crowed campsite near a spring. The spring came out of the ground, made a pool, then disappeared again. Quite handy.

05/09/02

Awoke near the spring. There were two people in a tent when I arrived last night and they were in the tent when I departed this morning. I never met them.
Hiked a lot.
I get to see flowers every day. I hike and wonder which flowers I will see, because so far, it's a sure thing. I created a flowers page.

05/10/02
Awoke in chaparral, 6, or so, miles south of Highway 18. Chris (now Tapeworm), Phil, Coach (in photo order) and I set off.

Tapeworm, Donk, and Coach.

By the time we hit 18, Brent was with us. We scattered at that point. I set out solo on foot for Van Dusen Canyon Road. The others were hitching or walking to Big Bear City.
Some people are hiking the PCT, others are hiking from Mexico to Canada. So, if they walk the road instead of the trail, it's OK. Hike your own hike is what I say to myself as I keep to my fairly purist attitude.

So, setting out solo, for the first time I donned my headset and listened to music while I hiked. I did have one ear only partially covered in case of rattlers. Tom had made me a minidisk titled Divas to Lip. It was a mix of rap, scat, opera, and ballads and great to walk to. I covered some good miles, pulled into the 'hard to hitch' Van Dusen Road, and got a ride within 3 minutes. I got the guy to wait while I got 3 of my 4 boxes from the PO, then he dropped me at the Big Bear Fire Station.
The 3 or 4 boxes is a big deal, because one is missing. The box that has not come in is my resupply box, the box with the food for my next section. So I'm here until it comes in. The PO is open tomorrow, Saturday, for one hour to give out packages. We'll see.
Lots of people here. Showered, did laundry, then ten of us went to very mediocre Mexican dinner (but had fun).

Goof being a goof.

I rented K-Pax to watch on my laptop with everybody , but couldn't get the DVD working. Stayed up late (10:30) doing my web site, titling photos, and other computer-related stuff.
For those of you who don't know, I've got a secondary bounce box with my laptop in it.
I've turned the conference room at the Big Bear Fire Station into Cupcakewalk.com World Headquarters. The firemen don't mind at all. I have all the power I need, a phone line(!), and a secure, dry place for all my electronics.
Others are using the laptop more than I, which I'm happy to let them do.

05/11/02
Today is my first zero-mile day, a day without hiking. I'm loving it. Cupcakewalk.com World Headquarters is in full swing. I'm writing on my Palm with the folding keyboard as others check their email and otherwise use my laptop.

I am trying to figure out a way to get a package out of Big Bear tomorrow, Sunday.

Couldn't do it, but it turns out it's a moot point because my resupply box, mailed on May 2 from Monterey did not arrive today. So that means I get to wait until Monday to see if it comes then. At least I can stay at the fire house for free.
Now I'm officially behind schedule, and I'm not stressing about it. Now I have time in a town, and I may, or may not, see the people I've been hiking with. That's part of being on the trail I guess.

I decided I was going into Big Bear Lake from Big Bear City after I knew I wasn't headed out tomorrow. I started walking, hoping to catch MARTA, the local hourly transit bus. I passed a beauty salon which was having a new landing put on. I made it inside and the woman there trimmed my neck for no charge. (BTW, I bleached my hair at Lake Morena, so if you are wondering what's going on with me in photos, that's it.) I wasn't on the road 5 minutes before a middle school teacher picked me up and took me where I needed to go. He had Flowers written in red on the inside of the windshield. Mother's Day is tomorrow.
Saw Spider-Man, uninterestedly checked out the mediocrity that is Big Bear Lake, and found out that Yogi had not checked in to the Motel 6. So I decided to head back.

Got a ride back from Big Bear Lake from Darleen. I was hitching facing the sun, so my face was all screwed up from squinting. I never thought I'd get a ride. She stopped anyway, honking as she pulled into a driveway. She was great.
Darleen drove a rattletrap van with a cracked windshield and spiritual soul music blasting. The windows were down, and she smiled big as she looked over her glasses at me. The dashboard had a low fluids lamp lit, and the low fuel lamp went on and off as we drove.

Conversation was easy and her driving loose.

I wasn't sure if she was flirting with me.

Her nails were long, and her lipstick fresh.

I think it was how she was with men.

She was looking at me while talking and drifted into the center-turn lane. I tried casually to point this out, having quickly noted the aggressive and sloppy way she made of traveling the roads. She said she was taking me on a shortcut, and meant to be drifting over. She knew what she was doing.
I thought, "Is this woman taking me home to have sex? That should be interesting."
But it truly was a shortcut, designed to miss the traffic lights of suburban stripmall Big Bear Lake. She told me a bit about how it all comes back to you, helping other people, and spoke of thanking the Lord. Somehow, I was right there with her, maybe knowing her bliss and beliefs from another angle.
As we got close to the firehouse, I saw Yogi, DLow, and Mags walking. I knew Yogi was on her way to Motel 6, and had been toying with the idea of splitting the room with her. With aggressive ease, Darleen turned on the next street and took me back to them. I gave Darleen $5 for gas. She didn't want to join us for dinner because she had kids to get home to.

The four of us walked on toward La Paws, the Mexican place we'd eaten the night before, but then we saw the rib place. After waffling, we went back to the rib place and ordered huge amounts of food. I had 1/4 slab of pork ribs, 2 corn on the cob, a pint of collard greens and an order of french fries.
I decided to stay with Yogi. For $20, I get a clean soft bed and a chance to get to know Yogi better. All my stuff is back at the firehouse. Leaving my stuff somewhere else feels good too.

05/13/02
Yesterday was the least enjoyable day of my trip because I was not hiking. I worked on my web site almost the whole day. I was glad my laptop was in Big Bear. Lots of people came in Saturday and Sunday, and lots of people left, people I'd been enjoying hiking with.

At least I got out of Big Bear.
Now I'm at the Little Bear Springs Trail Camp alone cooking a fairly complex dinner. I got out of town before 1 PM, hiked 9 trail miles, and hope to do 5 more before sleeping.
Since my resupply box did not show up this morning, I decided to cut my losses and headed to the grocery store. $72 later, I had enough food that sort-of fit my diet that I could make it to Wrightwood.
I'm having rice sticks (noodles) with shallots, fresh carrots, fresh potato, fresh tofu, miso, seaweed and assorted dried vegetables. I'm eating the heavy or bulky stuff first. Let me just say that one small drop of Dave's Insanity Sauce is enough to make a whole pot of food very picante.
I spoke with my niece Bailey this morning. She's so sweet and, at 6, doesn't know what to make of my trip. I see her and her brother Jack two or three times a year, but since I've been on this trip, she's been missing me a lot. I feel, for her sake alone, I must have a safe journey. I think my adventure is at an important time in her development. I think the world seems big and Unc is somewhere out there in it, unreachable.

05/14/02
Saw four snakes (none rattlers), swam three times, ate two lunches, and one great day hiking.
Was pushing for the hot springs, but got so bored with the trail (plus I was low on water). Instead of waiting for the hot spring oasis, I dropped down to the river on a good use trail. I ate a bit and went to get water. I looked across the river and discovered that I was at the warm springs.
I had a lovely soak all to myself. I couldn't stay in the warm water long; I was a hot hiker and the sun was pounding down. I moved on, only to find that I was pretty close to the hot springs. The biggest lure was the fantastic swimming hole. I swam around for a while before seeing the mud people. They had pulled up mud from the bottom and were loafing around the warm rocks.

Slept in Mojave Reservoir where I was half-eaten by mosquitoes. Tim, Matt, an old-timer, and I camped just below a beaver dam. Several times during the night, I heard a large plop/splash that sounded like a rock the size of a head being dropped into still water. I learned that it was the beavers hopping in. I actually thought it was large frog. I thought, "That's a big frog."

05/15/02
Long day. Hiked 30 miles. Awoke with mosquito bites on my face, shoulders and arms.
Saw two snakes today, one of them a green like lime sorbet.
Swam in Silverwood Lake, which felt like a luxury, a secret bauble slipped into the pocket.

Had the most amazing experience as the sun was setting. I was at the top on Cajon Canyon, where the trail skirts the bluffs of steeply-eroded alluvial soil. As I crested, before me, in the distance, was a long, long train heading down the pass. All the railcars were white, but colored orange from the glow of the sky and the setting sun. The tracks seemed to make a 180 degree arc in front of me. The train snaked down the hill past the deepest colors of the setting sun, below the green greys of the layers of mountains behind. The wind was gently cooling my body, hot from climbing. Then, a military jet moved across the whole picture, too fast to guess the speed. The whole time I-15 was above it all. It was a surreal transportation moment, highlighted by the power of nature and light.

Camped at my water supply, a place you'd be weary to wash your hands in. I was happy to treat it with Aqua Mira and drink it.

05/16/02
I made the decision to push on to Wrightwood. I hope I don't pay the price.
Awoke in Crowder Canyon under fog, and everything was wet. Dropped down to I-15 at 3000'.
Crossing across the I-15 corridor was surreal, weird, and disorienting. I felt like the wandering ones in Fahrenheit 451. Lots of knowledge but outside the system. I felt like a bum.

The view from the trail toward Cajon Pass.

I crossed under the massive freeway through a curving tunnel. The curve and the distance were great enough that I was walking into blackness. Water appeared on the floor/ground at some point. I have no idea where it was from. I emerged into the damp, overgrown, slightly littered tangle of nature taking over this neglected area. This area had a life all its own, but the thousands of people who passed by above each day had no idea it was there. The millions of dollars of commerce that slammed through daily on the rail system in the area couldn't destroy what was here.
I crunched through lush watercress, passed under the railroad tracks, and followed the PCT signs. Soon, I emerged into more familiar chaparral, only this time, the chaparral was part of a walking tour. I learned the name of several of the plants we've been walking past for the last three weeks.
For the last two or three days we've been walking on or near the San Andreas Fault or the San Andreas Rift Zone. I'm not sure if they are the same... The landscape is tortured and odd.

Got to the fork to go down to Wrightwood late, after dark. I decided to go down. It took forever and their were confusing forks. I was exhausted, so I ended up backtracking a bit.

None of the streets I was wandering were on the little map in the Town Guide, but I found my way to the area on the map. I got an expensive, horrid hotel room. Lots of people are in town, but I don't know where they are staying.

05/17/02
Awoke in Wrightwood, the same place I fell asleep. My box was at the PO. Hooked up with Jennifer and Greg, who drove up for the day. They brought a quart of strawberries, which I selfishly wolfed down. They also brought organic avocados and a citrus. I saved it for the trail. It was a great visit.
Finally got out of town around 3:30, went up the Acorn Trail, and am camped at Grassy Hollow Family Campground near Route 2 with Brent and Chuckie.

05/18/02
Hit Mt. Baden-Powell today. It's named after the founder of the Boy Scouts, and I couldn't let that sit. Plus, it was a Saturday, so there were lots of day hikers. Time for activism.

I hiked up with my label, refusing to be invisible. Met retired Joe/Chrome Dome who is section hiking a day at a time with lots of support from his wife. I mentioned that I was stopping for lunch. Although he was southbound today, he joined me.
As he was leaving, he noticed my label and said, "PCT FAG? What's that?" I told him that I didn't like be invisible as a gay man in Boy Scout country. I went on about the Supreme Court decision that affirmed the Boy Scouts' right to discriminate based on sexual orientation. That decision put them in the same category as the American Nazi Party and the Ku Klux Klan.
I'm explaining it here better here than I did in person, but here I'm leaving out some of the details because so much has time has passed since I wrote this.
Joe jumped in that he had a gay son, one of four, who ran marathons. He was cool.
Lonetrail and companion passed during lunch.
I had picked some white sage to do a little cleansing/healing ritual on top of Baden-Powell, but ended up not going to the summit.

I hiked on, still wearing my PCT FAG sticker.

After the Islip Saddle trail, there were lots of Boy Scouts headed to Little Jimmy Campground. I was stopped for some reason when one of the boys asked me, "What does it say on your shirt?" knowing full well what it said.
I said "PCT Fag."
"Why?"
"Because, as a gay man hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, I did not want to be invisible when hiking near Mt. Baden-Powell." I also mentioned the Supreme Court.
I was anxious to get to Little Jimmy Spring. The scout leader said, "Have a good hike" as I moved on. I wondered if he was trying to get rid of me.

I ran into them again a little later. Another kid asked me, from a switchback above, "What's it say on your shirt?" I yelled back, "PCT Fag." They didn't giggle. I think they just wanted to hear me say it again. I talked with the leader and a couple of the boys a little later. They were very curious and very nice. I hope I generated some discussion.

I lost the sticker at some point.

05/20/02
My worst hours of hiking are now behind me. I went past Mill Creek Summit to sleep. I could see the fog was trying to push in, and there was lots of wind up there. I found a tiny spot just off the trail on the uphill side. It was sort of a hump. It was as close to level as I was going to get. I mitigated the hump by propping my head up with my shoes.

During the night, I noticed that the fog that I thought would roll in did. I awoke to the sound of deer running around me. They were very close, crunching through the low oak trees.
By the time I really woke up, my bag was wet on the outside. So was all my stuff. I thought it was just a heavy fog. I was in denial again.

I figured the fog would come in, but I didn't figure it would rain. My down bag was wet; everything was wet. I packed it all up even though my hands were freezing. I still thought it was fog one and half hours after I started hiking in the morning.
While I was packing Chris Radliff passed. It may be the only time I see my fellow Santa Cruzian. He's covering miles.
The day got a lot harder. The rain got worse, and the wind and cold was aggressive.

By the time I got to the top, I was having my worst hours of hiking to date on any trip. My hands were so cold I could barely do anything with them. At one point, in the roaring wind pushing horizontal rain, I yelled, Fuck this shit!
I couldn't stop, or I'd get colder. So, I just pushed on. It's what we do. The hail started just before I got to North Forks Ranger Station.
At North Forks, Todd let me come in and warm up. He made some boiling water for me so that I could eat my dinner.
I'd been snacking all morning on my lunch food because it was too wet to really stop and eat, although I did munch some granola through the morning. So, I had dinner at lunch time because I knew I needed the fuel. Todd mentioned that at the next paved road, Soledad Canyon Road, there was a restaurant that had just opened, plus I was thinking I might just push through to Agua Dulce, so having no dinner would not be an issue. I left after the hail stopped.

I made it to the RV park. It did have a restaurant. I had dinner and dried my bag in a dryer. During dinner, I realized that I was too tired to push onto Agua Dulce, so I got a spot. Emily wandered in with stories of getting lost, and snow. I had a second dinner with Emily, and I got my wish: to sleep in a level place. I put up my tarp because I heard there was another storm coming in.

05/21/02
Waiting for the Robin's Nest Restaurant (apparently named: "In it's [sic] new location.") to open. It was supposed to open at 7. It's now 8:30. We are hungry.
Emily pulled in last night, and we are hanging out. Finally decided to granola it, then head out for a zero-mile day with only 10 miles to Agua Dulce. Saw two prison crews doing trail maintenance.

Saw some really good mountain lion tracks just before Vasquez Rocks. In the same amazing rocks, I saw a road runner. Cool.

There are lots of people here at Jeff and Donna's. I'd heard the Saufly's is a special stop on the PCT, and the rumors were true. They keep their house to themselves, but they have a full trailer with two bedrooms, an RV, and four large tents that can each sleep 4 in their large back yard. The trailer has a full bathroom, kitchen and living room, and features a TV with VCR, many tapes to choose from, and a stereo with a tilted selection of vinyl records.

There are also a couple of sleeping spots under the tree in the flower bed. Beds in the bed.

Donna does your laundry, and she has a special system that got my laundry clean, clean, clean. To clear up any rumors: Donna does not smell the laundry until she is finished with it.
The Saufly's have a hiker Jeep that's ours as needed. That Jeep is gone most the the day, and a good deal of the evening. If Donna's not using her car, we can sometimes use it too. Most of the stuff hikers need is in Santa Clarita, a 20-minute drive.
Met Gottago's husband, Ray, then had dinner with Gottago at the local Mexican place. Two hikers came in when we were half way through our meal, then Brent and Rubber Chuckie came in when they were about halfway through. Rubber Chuckie's makes his living winning triathlons, and he's a great guy.

The atmosphere here at the Saufly's is unlike anything I've experienced. In a single-wide trailer, there's a conversation in the kitchen (Rubber Chuckie & Larry), Emily's doing dishes from their beef-fest, and someone I don't know yet is hanging out.

It's Emily with the Two Joes and their beef-fest.

Watching The Life of Brian in the living room is Restless Wind, Strawberry Girl & Blackhawk, Goof, and Brian. On the porch is Beefcake (Mary) & Brent. DLow and a woman I haven't met just joined the movie. At the smoking table Rabbi Greg and a few others are chatting. Yogi's packing food in one of the bedrooms. Trevor just went out to the porch. Patrick and Gottago are in our tent getting ready to hike out tomorrow. Who knows what others are doing. There's lots of thru-hiker activity.

Sorry for the long delay. I shipped my laptop from Agua Dulce to Tuolomne, and on the trail, that's a long time. I've decided to add in a strip, like the one above, for each update. It will hopefully make it easier to resume reading.

05/23/02
What a great stay at Jeff & Donna's in Agua Dulce. It's Thursday morning, and I'm at a table with Matt G [Soon to be Iron Chef], Yogi, and Han Solo. Beefcake's still here waiting for Friendly Bear. Dan is trying to figure out how to light the oven. Simon and Garfunkle are on the record player, after hours and hours over the last few days of Black Sabbath & Iron Maiden.
Saw Episode II yesterday afternoon with Yogi, Matt, and DLow. Yawn to the movie.

Before that, Donna drove us around. The PO in Santa Clarita rocks. They are fast. The night around the Saufly's was a lot quieter than the night before. Last night was 3 guitars and two drummers. It didn't bother me because I stayed up late working on this very web site, and doing other computer stuff.

05/24/02
Awoke at the Casa de Luna, Joe & Terrie Anderson's, in Grass Valley with Yogi and Han Solo. Got a late start, but Yogi and Han Solo got pancakes. Terrie dropped us off at the trailhead after driving us past the eccentric neighbor's "rock" houses, a cool, odd, seemingly unzoned collection of structures with groups of bulging triangular windows.
I set pace most of the day, and most of the day Han Solo was behind me, talking. At times we were having a conversation, but that was the exception. After lunch, I got a little overwhelmed and had a vision of a mass of word piling up behind me, pushing me forward, and making me dizzy. I had to stop. He went on. At one point, both Yogi and I were under headphones. Han Solo's a nice guy and we talked about some stuff that's interesting to both of us: gays in the Military (He's in the National Guard, etc.), gays in the Scouts (he's a Scout leader), Scouts in churches, and working with youth, but it was too much at some point.
We put out a bandana on a bush when we went off trail for dinner, but he didn't make it and we haven't seen him since.
The landscape was nothing to report, except that there's little water. We relied today, as we had yesterday, on the Anderson's caches. I don't like to rely on caches, but since we knew the Ansersons were conscientious about how much was out there, and how much was needed (plus their encouragement to use it), I decided to go with it for this section.

05/25/02
Yogi and I slept at the 500-mile mark of the trail. Saw large bear tracks about two miles from our camp. At about 7:45, we passed Han Solo, who was sleeping in the trail. Have not seen him since. How he is going to finish in 80 days is beyond me.
Walked through lovely oak and grass hillsides with views to the Mojave Desert in the morning.

The pink is actually miner's lettuce that's drying out.

The worst part of the trail, through Tejon Ranch, was next. Then we ended up a Jack Fair's former place. I'd always envisioned Jack's place at the end of a distant road, but a paved road, a two-lane highway, I think, goes right past it. It's not in the middle of nowhere by PCT standards.

It was the new owners of Jack Fair's place first day on the property, and Doc and Llama, who were there when we arrived, were the first hikers to walk in the gate and meet them. The new owners knew the trail was there, but seemed to have little idea about Jack's role in providing water and shelter to the hikers. The address is even listed in the Book of Lies. Hopefully things will work out.

I was in hiker mode. The shade tree in Jack's yard had chairs and out in the sun was the spigot, thankfully on. Below the spigot was a bowl. I saw it as a basin. I moved out into the heat and plunged my hands into the basin, splashing my hot face. It felt great. I splashed again.
The cool water must have brought my brain back to normal. I happened to look at the new owners' dog, who was eyeing me. Then I looked down. I was exuberantly splashing my face in the dog's bowl. I could only laugh. I looked around for the new owners, hoping they had not seen what I imagined to them was a horrifying site. They were busy with tasks.

To the side of the shade tree was a pile of the signs Jack had on and in his house. The real estate agent had them all removed. They are all rants. I took three: Jack Fair's 10 Commandments, Jack Fair's Bible, and "Killing Time!!!! just TO DIE!!! WHY 10-4-2000". Here are two other, of hundreds, of the signs pulled off of Jack's house.

   
For those who don't know, Jack was a legendary trail host who was a bit eccentric. He fatally shot himself last year when the last of the hikers had passed through. Doc got a sign that says, "EARTH, the bitch that give us birth, without. purpose! & ?! (#14)"
Yogi got one that says, "The Lord Jack Fair."

Lots of today we walked along the California Aqueduct. Goof caught up with us as we were resting just where the aqueduct goes underground.

Yogi, Coy (dog), Llama & Doc with aqueduct overhead.

It's great hiking with Yogi. Our paces are well matched and we can talk, but not drive each other crazy. I'm worried that my excessive farting might drive her off. Here's Yogi at our aqueduct camping site:

05/26/02
Great day of hiking. Awoke along the California Aqueduct in the Mojave and walked through some wicked hills that no trail designer could tame.

Yogi and I had 7.4 miles from our dry camp to the nearest water. I left camp with about 1.5 liters of water, not a lot. I did not brush my teeth in the morning to save water.

During the section near the aqueduct, the trail is actually the maintenance road for the aqueduct We ticked off the miles, but it's tedious on a road. Saw a few jackrabbits, the type that become Jackalopes.
We finally got the the bridge that indicated that we were at ? Creek, where the water was supposed to be. The creek was bone dry, just like everything else for 50 miles. Well, except for the millions of gallons flowing through the aqueduct, all under lock and key. We split up to look for the water. I only had enough water remaining to dab a stain out of a shirt. Yogi had about half a liter.
Finally, back up top, I spotted the water, a nice concrete arrangement courtesy of LAWPD, or whatever they are. Thanks. We tanked (drank lots right on the spot) and filled out our containers. I carried a belly full of water and 6 liters out of there. I was happy to have it after the little scare, and did not mind the weight.
Yogi's on top of the trail guide and the data book, so I rely on her. Today, that meant that I forgot there was another stream coming up. When a contour brought us around a particular bend, I said, "Is that water down there?" Yogi thought it looked like it.
Sure enough, there was a lovely tiny stream with some good campsites. I didn't mind that I'd carried water in, and my feet loved getting a special bath. I tanked up using Yogi's filter.
Camped at 6000' in the pines in ATV-land. Bikes and motorcycles have wrecked the trail around here.
When we decided to call it a day, we found a site. I strung up my reflective rope and laid out sticks so that if some drunken Memorial Day dirt bikers or motorcycle riders that were out for a full-moon eco desecration would not kill us if they swerved off the trail.

05/27/02
Sitting in a Laundromat in Mojave, uh, doing laundry. Lots of people here in Mojave: John & Julie (she's got an injury), Goof & Patrick (now Stroller), Doc & Llama, and Restless Wind & Sam I Am (formerly Dan) just rolled in.
Yogi and I hiked to Highway 58 to access Mojave, using our Memorial Day (Memorial Day to us simply meant no access to the post office) to get in miles rather than hanging around. It also makes the next section shorter.
White's motel is nicer than I thought it would be, and it has a pool! Goof helped me fix one of the leaks in my Thermarest. New New Balance 805s here in Mojave.

05/28/02
On trail by 11 with Yogi. Bill from White's Motel dropped us off. We climbed and climbed, finally reaching the famous Asswater Springs.
Last year when Yogi and crew drank from Golden Oaks Spring, Phluf declared that, "This water tastes like ass.' They tried everything, to no avail. They arrived at the next spot with water they dumped out. This year, Asswater Springs was drinkable despite the gawd awful mess the cows had made of the place.
The two of us camped under the turbines, in an area lightly sprinkled with blooming dandelions. My spot was under a low, bent pine. Very cozy.
David G & Ben sent me a bulky envelope for my birthday. It came with a few erotic images torn from a magazine, a small one-use size of lube, and just enough tissue to wipe up, so I was curious to listen to the minidisk that was also enclosed. The card said to follow the instructions on the MD.
Sorry to disappoint you, but the MD was just them talking, figuring I would be missing affection and friends. It was very funny. I kept trying not to laugh out loud because Yogi was trying to sleep. At one point David's playing the piano and they are singing.

I am officially sick of the wind turbines.

05/29/02
Sleeping under the wind turbines wasn't so bad. Yogi and I hiked, and it was hot. The wind has all but disappeared.
Saw bear tracks today, and Goof actually saw the bear and got photos.
Met up with Goof, Stroller and Restless Wind at Robin Bird Spring. Here's Restless Wind back at Agua Dulce:

Some of you may have read or heard me commit to not doing more than 20 miles a day. Yet, I'm doing more than 20 most days. What gives?
I hike more than 20 a day for several reasons.

1. To keep to my schedule. I lost two days in Big Bear. Hiking more miles can wipe out a lost day pretty quickly. I'm not a slave to my schedule, but I set it up to work for me.
2. Geography. Water's a big issue in Southern California, so I often hike longer to get to water, or so it won't be too far to water then next day. There's also the occasional day that at 20 miles there's not place to sleep. I hike on to find a level spot.
3. Hiking Partners. If I'm enjoying hiking with someone and they want to go further, I'll do it. Yogi wanted to do 25s from Agua Dulce to Mojave. No sweat.

There were supposed to be water caches, but there were none.

Stroller and Yogi contemplate what to do at the first dry cache.

We ended up going down Kelso Road to an unfenced spring with cow shit, and cows, everywhere. I dug a hole in the muck, let the water clear, poured it through my shirt to get the 'floaties' out, and treated it with Aqua Mira. I swore I'd never drink cow water, but I did. I wish I had a picture to show the grossness of it all.

Lost 1.5 liters of the precious cow water when my pack fell against a joshua tree. A spine went through my pack and the Platypus bladder. If I ever do this section again, I'm using more durable water carriers, like an MSR dromedary bag.

At the second empty cache at the end of a long day of hot hiking, the only liquid left in the containers had thousands of drowned ants in it. Yuck. Went to sleep thirsty.

05/31/02
Awoke with 8 people at Bird Spring Pass, all of us thirsty.

Today's my 40th birthday. I got water for my birthday. What could be more simple or perfect? I had next to nothing left, with long distances to the first source. I asked the crowd. I got about a liter and a half from two sources.

Went into Onxy from Walker Pass for apple juice and sweet yellow peppers. Had a one pound King burrito for dinner.

It's the first time Goof cooked in front of me, or I noticed what he cooked. Lots of stuff goes into his dinners, even more than what I put in.

That's it for May. June is next.