When I woke up, the day after the last post left off, I woke up to ice coating the inside of my tent. The desert has not been as I expected. In the first week or two, it was necessary to take a long break in the heat of the day. Now, it’s very difficult to take my coat off in the morning and a hot breakfast is basically an imperative. That morning, though, I’d run out of stove fuel, but Florian had my back.
We walked above the clouds for most of the day, on the way to Wrightwood. I was looking forward to a zero, or rest, day and the hills we had to cover for the last six miles seemed personally offensive. They were between me and French fries, the hateful things. We made the highway and hitched into town by lunchtime. Florian, the newly trail-named Tinkle (Johanna), Old Timer, Stefan, and I definitely prioritized food over cleanliness and were brought straight to a restaurant. It’s always a bit jarring to realize exactly how dirty and smelly I am when compared to normal people. Because the food versus shower battle always results the same, this self-awareness always happens in restaurants.
After eating, we did some town chores, going to the post office and hardware store, finding a place to stay, and figuring out and buying food for the next leg. That day and the next, we took full advantage of what Wrightwood had to offer, including 5 cent margaritas, $1.50 tacos, pastries for first breakfast and pancakes for second breakfast, karaoke, and beer. That had actually been my first time doing karaoke. There was a guy at that bar who was being kind of pushy and annoying, wanting to dance with Tinkle and I again and again. That was the only negative experience I’ve had from any person in town. Even that was mitigated by the Hagrid-looking karaoke host who dedicated and sang a song to the guy called “The Asshole Song.” That was pretty cool.
If I mention negative town experiences, I feel I should talk about the many positive ones, which far outweigh the others. Almost every time we’ve hitched into town, the first car that passes stops, no matter what they’re doing, and will take us wherever we want to go in town. Most have also taken the time to give us a tour of the town and some have offered to let is stay with them, do our laundry, make us food, or have apologized that their house isn’t big enough to invite us to stay. We’ve gotten discounts, free refills, free rides, and great conversations. There are people who have turned their homes into places like Hiker Heaven, Casa de Luna, and of course Scout and Frodo’s place. (We’ll get into the former two soon). The level of kindness that people show to hikers is staggering and humbling.
Back to Wrightwood, we left after another good breakfast and made our way up Mount Baden-Powell. Because most towns and highways where you get to towns aren’t on the tops of the mountains, there’s often a big climb on the trail right after a town, when your bag is the heaviest, with all the food you’ll carry for the next stretch. It was a difficult climb, but at the top, there was a dog! Worth it. There was also a tree, named Wally, near the summit that was estimated 1500 years old. That night, I celebrated by making a truly awful dumpling meal. It was terrible mostly because of user error- but for real, though, making homemade dumplings on trail is not a user-friendly task.
Most closures on the PCT are because of fire or fire damage. The next day, though, we had a detour around a closure for frogs. Specifically an endangered yellow legged frog. Because we’re so nature-oriented, we even road walked past a huge climb, just in case there were any frogs hanging out there, too. On the crest, safety is best. 😉
MountainMaddy 
“On the Crest, safety is best” should now be chanted daily
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