Halfway Home!

I just passed the official halfway point. But since I've done the desert half and the Sierra half, and have transformed from a couch potato into a hiking machine, I would say it is most definitely the easy half. Twenty mile days used to be long and difficult. Now twenty miles are done by lunchtime. Last update I told you of the coincidental meeting of Caroline's uncles. Not nearly as coincidental, but still exciting is meeting up with fellow hikers that I haven't seen for a while, sometimes as long as 700 miles. But it is still fun nonetheless. Finally, I got to meet Chief, a retired fire chief from Santa Barbara. I had heard stories of him about how he helped to rescue Purple from the trail when she suffered from a hike-ending foot injury. And I had been treated to several trail angel treats by his wife from as long as 900 miles ago (apple sauce). He popped into the Red Moose Cafe in Sierra City to drop off a couple of loads of freshly baked goodies from his wife. The next day on my way out to hike, I used my magic thumb to get a lift. Who should it be from but Chief's wife. Finally, I got to thank her for the apple sauce so many miles back. She introduced herself as Maureen, and introduced me to their dog, Bodie. Bodie and I got to know one another in the back seat during the mile and a half ride to the trail. That night I camped early with Chief while waiting to see whether the nearby storm would hit. It didn't, but once we set up our tents, we were there to stay. The next day, who should I see but Bodie, coming at me at a dead sprint, leaping over a downed tree to pull up shy as if to say "Who the heck are you, and where is my Chief?" Not disappointed in the least, I gave Bodie a couple of quick pats, told Maureen that Chief was surely on his way, and continued my hike. A couple of days later (today), as I was trying to hitchhike to Chester, I was thinking about my lucky thumb. I have never had to wait more than five minutes for a ride before. Usually, I don't even need to stick out my thumb. In Wrightwood, I pulled up to a group of eight hikers at the trailhead. Since eight hikers never are hiking together, it was clear to me that at least some of them had been waiting for a long time. And since nine hikers cannot fit into a car no matter how hard they try, it was also clear to me that I would be there for a while. Not three minutes later, one big van, and one pickup truck pulled into the trailhead, and took all of us down to town. Another time, at Big Bear City, as I was stepping off of the trail, a driving was pulling into the parking lot. Before my foot even had time to hit the ground, I was offered a ride. These two are my best stories, but by no means my only ultra-successful ones. So back to today, after I had waited a half hour with lots of passing cars, but none who wanted to pick me up, I figured my luck had finally turned. Not so fast. A camper going the opposite direction pulls into the trailhead and shouts out "Need a ride?" It was none other than Maureen and Bodie. She drove me to the supermarket to resupply, while Chief made it and was waiting at the trailhead. We then grabbed some lunch to go, along with milkshakes, for us and Chief, and drove back to the trailhead. I am now sitting at a campground on their computer after eating an unbelievably good meal of chicken enchiladas, with freshly laundered clothes (and a humbling defeat in horseshoes -- happy Maureen?), and otherwise very satisfied with life. So satisfied that I'm not even lamented the loss of my cell phone. I would think that after Caroline and I had collectively "washed" three phones over the years, I would have learned that swimming with your phone is not a good idea. Okay, it wasn't actually swimming, it was foolishly trying to ford a river that didn't need to be forded. But the net result is the same. Another broken phone, and another jackpot for T-Mobile. I could also tell you about the time I followed a deer for a half-mile down the trail. Or about the best Fourth of July celebration I've ever had with complete strangers. Or about the horse I saw rolling on his back and scratching like a dog. But I've talked long enough. Hope all is well, -Roger Dodger