Hiker Town (PCT Day 35)

Another day on trail. It begins with breakfast, as many do. It’s Muesli, as it most often is. We mix the coconut milk powder with chia, dried cranberries, chocolate whey protein powder, muesli and water. It’s delicious and simple as it always is.

We sit eating breakfast, drinking coffee, as the wind cuts through our clothes and chills our skin. We are seated around a picnic table at a ranger station clutching our mugs, shaking our legs to keep them warm. Dark clouds hover over the hills above, where we will be hiking soon.

The skies are threatening rain, but I don’t believe them. We put our feet to the trail, eager for motion to warm our blood. We wear our coats as the trail climbs upward and we look down into Green Valley. It’s satisfying to walk with chilled skin given the usual sun and sweat we’ve become accustomed to. It’s refreshing to see the color green as it expands below us, subdued by the greyish blue clouds that move above.

I walk ahead of Lupine, invigorated by the cool morning air, motivated to move quickly to keep my body warm. We climb about 1,500 ft and crest the hill. The wind whips across our windbreakers and the occasional sun ray escapes from the clouds.

At the top of a hill we notice we have a faint phone signal, and we order new hiking shoes to be delivered when we reach Tehachapi. Lupine and I both have worn our shoes out and our feet can feel every rock. I can feel every rock in my soles, every step in my hips. With every day our heels ask for relief. 

I notice a text message from my mother and I respond. Then she calls. “Is everything okay?” she asks. 

“Yeah, why?” I respond. It’s been a few days since I updated the blog and she’s worried if we’re okay. Fortunately we’re fine, we’ve just had limited service. I chat with her for a while, updating her on our progress and plans, assuring her of our safety.

We continue hiking for several miles, and the trail shifts to a downward angle. We reach a road where the trail picks up on the other side. A closure sign marks the trail where we’d normally continue on.

This is where we must walk and/or hitch a ride from Lake Hughes. The trail is closed due to a previous fire. It’s about a 20 mile section that’s closed. A previous hiker, we encountered heading southbound said he walked through the section because the fire closure wasn’t marked heading that direction. He said it was like walking on the moon. The landscape was grey, and not a tree to be seen.

We’ve also heard of other hikers ignoring the closure and hiking through, but that idea does not sound appealing to us. We figure the section is closed for a reason. Plus, hiking through fresh burns is miserable. Camping in them is even worse. The soil is practically ash, which drifts into the air, and then your lungs. We decide to walk the road, and hope for the kindness of a stranger to hitch past the burn.

We begin walking along the road into Lake Hughes. Few cars pass us as we carefully walk along the shoulder, stepping into the brush when the occasional car passed. The road winds upward then a small town emerges. It feels deprived and lonely. I get the impression it’s seen better days.

After walking about a mile we reach where the road intersects with Lake Hughes road.

We stop for snacks, sitting alongside the road. We nibble on the last of our dried mangoes, and jerky. Behind us is a closed pub, with a sign labeling it as “Lucky’s” above the oversized steel gothic door. Across the street is a house and an old car repair garage. It looks like an old antique shop, but I see no signs suggesting it’s a business. An old soda pop machine sits behind a trailer, with a tarp tethered on top, blowing in the wind, revealing this relic of the past. For a minute my mind transports me back to my uncle’s car repair shop on Whidbey Island. As a youth I spent time there working, splitting wood, doing oil changes, popping quarters into the ancient soda machine and guzzling the Mt. Dew it provided. I haven’t had a Mt. Dew for years, but at this hiking exhausted moment, it sounds delicious.

With our moods restored by calories, we summon the will to walk again, extending our thumbs to hitch a ride. We don’t particularly enjoy hitching given the unpredictable nature of it. But, we resort to it, hoping to opt out of the nine mile road walk we have begun. We came to walk trail, not the road, so we’re hoping to benefit from the generosity of a stranger. And, as always, we hope they will be “normal”.

After about 30 minutes a woman in a small white Ford sedan pulls over and gives us a ride. As we hop in the car, she pulls on a mask and assures us she’s been vaccinated. That’s always a welcome relief. Her name is Jan. She retired from her job in hospital administration last Friday. Today is a Wednesday, and she’s given a number of our fellow hikers rides already today. This far she’s seen Finders Keepers, Siracha, and Chef. Last night she took Hot Rocks and Chuck Wagon to Hiker Town, where we are heading today. Apparently she’s bored and been helping hikers get rides throughout the week. The generosity of strangers is suprising. What did we do to deserve it? It’s a question I doubt I’ll find the answer for.

As we drive, I look out the window in awe as charred trees and houses flash by outside my window. Jan tells us she had several friends lose their houses in this fire. It burned over 31,000 acres in 2020. At this point of the trail, we’ve become intimate with the burns of previous years, scarring the lands we walk. But, the shock is no less with every blackened tree we cross.

Jan drops us off where the trail reopens. It’s a 6 mile hike to Hiker Town. We wind along the hills and get our first view of the Mojave desert stretching out beyond us.

Tomorrow we will walk the Mojave, following the L.A. aquaduct as it stretches through a dry, waterless 15 mile stretch, with no shade. But today, we only need to make it to Hiker Town, a few more miles ahead.

By this time of day, the sun has burnt through the clouds, and we sweat as we curve through the desert hills, upward than downward, than upward again, never significantly changing altitude.

The trail splits through a golden hillside of dry grass.

We lower and emerge onto a straight dirt road, running parralel to a fence.

At the end of the road we reach Highway 138. Across the highway is Hiker Town, a common stop for PCT hikers. We walk through the gate around 5 pm, unsure of what to expect. We’ve heard varying stories about this place being creepy, akin to Mike’s Place.

Instead of a creepy hiker stop, we find a welcoming cohort of hikers, some we’ve met already.

We originally planned to bypass Hiker Town, to meet our friends Chef and Siracha at the Wee Vil Market. But they call us and tell us there’s no washer and dryer, or running showers. So they are heading back to Hiker Town. As they arrive, Lupine and I get a ride to a small local market where we buy snacks, and giant burritos. We buy far too much food, excited by the options, then return to Hiker Town.

At hiker town we reunite with several of our hiker friends, including Hot Rocks, Chuck Wagon, Finders Keepers, and Rum Runner. We also meet several others, who have been seemingly living at Hiker Town for a week.

Hiker Town is interesting and unique. It’s apparently owned by a former Hollywood producer. Siracha and Chef tell us the owner showed them a car that he blew up the day before with some hollywood colleagues.

The town looks like the set of an old western movie town, each building labeled as the bank, doctor, saloon, etc. Each one serves as a place for hikers to stay. Tonight, all the buildings are full, so we pitch our tent. Then we gather around the communal table, laughing and sharing tales of the trail. When the conversation dies, and the sky darkens, we cozy into our tent.