4/8/16 thru 4/10/16
After a drizzly night, during which all five of the misfits felt disappointment in the water resistance of their expensive tents, they slowly crawled out into the muddy campground, shivering as they stuffed drenched tents and mucky clothes into their packs. The late start wasn't much of a liability since it rained consistently throughout the whole day, and the sun was no where to be found. Temps were low, and the hiking was all uphill.
By early afternoon, they arrived in Mount Laguna, a town much smaller than anticipated. The campground was closed, the spigots were off, and the lodge was charging a premium. They sat down to inhale a delicious lunch at the local tavern, where they learned of the possibility of sleeping on the restaurant floor that night in exchange for a bit of help with closing and opening the following morning. No convincing was necessary. Liz then found the zen most hikers enjoyed at the sight of a beautiful sunrise or mountainscape by answering all of her work e-mails. Ahh, wifi!
By the time the restaurant closed, the ten or so hikers that were hanging around were exhausted and ready to crash. After clearing the tables to the sides, we rolled out our mats and sleeping bags with the efficiency of a small army and did our best to sleep indoors in our heavy down bags. Little did we know what adventure awaited us in the morning.
By 7am, we had stuffed our backpacks with all of our worldly goods, relocated and set the tables, and were enjoying coffee on the porch when a few dudes approached us, luring us in with "green bars." Are these guys company reps? I wondered. Stoners? I feared. All my reluctance dissipated with one taste of that green bar because YUM! Within about 10 minutes, they had handed us pamphlets about "the narrow trail" full of metaphors and low quality graphics. Nature Valley was into it. "So if I just do trail maintenance I can come chill on your farm?" "Well it's more like a path, a lifestyle." "So is the trail out West or back East?" "No it's like a metaphor. God, man."
[From left to right: Our AirBnB house on top of the hill, breakfast with kind folks, YUM!, holes in a boulder left by Native Americans where they ground stuff (flour? nuts?), our favorite small child playing on a downed tree, our view from the house]
The two dudes with the intense eyes, far away vibes, and delicious green bars then lured the misfits back to their cabin with the promise of breakfast. And honestly, we had no where to be. It's raining and hailing and snowing on the trail, so we had made a plan to hitch into Julian (30 minutes away), where Adam had booked an AirBNB for our crew. The ride wasn't coming until 1. We had five hours.
So we plodded after the green bar distributors, and by the time we arrived at their cabin 10 minutes down the road, it was decided that Nature Valley wouldn't be coming to Julian with us. He wouldn't be making the cinnamon rolls he had promised. He was joining the God guys.
The blonde guy with the gorgeous blue peepers introduced us to his wife: she was in full-on turtle neck, MC hammer pants, and black tennies with her hair pulled into a conservative bun, and a blonde baby tied to her back. She was SO happy to have us. We know this because she told us many, many times. She served us an incredible breakfast of many courses, including mate lattes, green juice, homemade coffee cake, and an egg scramble with toast and salmon. We made small talk about what we learned was the 12 Tribes, a Christian community/cult.
When breakfast was done, the women washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, and the boys fooled around chopping wood and hiking around the property looking for arrowheads. When I had my arms elbow-deep in soapy dish water, I casually asked what the gender roles were like in the community and was informed that having my own mind would make my husband feel like less of a man.
We then sent our son, Nature Valley, out to pasture with the California cult. We knew he was serious when he opened up his resupply box and started distributing his Nature Valley bars. RIP Nature Valley.
Back at the tavern, we hitched a ride with a trail angel and a bunch of other stinky hikers. Thirty minutes down the road in Julian, we weaved up a steep road to find our AirBNB at the top of a small mountain. A horse roamed freely on the property
Once settled into our AirBNB, we walked the windy road back down the mountain into town. We still have no clue why, but Julian had a remarkable amount of pie shops… at least 4. And one of those pie shops, Mom’s, gives a free slice of pie to thru-hikers, so that was our first stop. We then stopped at the little convenience store where everything was marked up at least three times what you would expect, and we scavenged ingredients for a spaghetti dinner.
On our way back up the mountain, we happened to see two hikers we are friends with (friends meaning vaguely familiar) in the window of a country inn. We jumped around until they noticed us, and when they came down we shared the sad news about Nature Valley and invited them to dinner.
We ended up with six for dinner, and afterwards Skippy, a slim Canadian bike courier carrying a tiny backpack and consuming 8,000 calories per day, did a shakedown for everyone. This means he made aggressive suggestions for minimizing the crap we are all hauling around.
Sunday brought more rest. Chz-It, Elizabeth, and the two of us played several competitive games of Password, and we spent the afternoon cleaning, blogging, heading back to town for more pie, and eventually making pizzas with pitas that Chz-It had carried for 40+ miles. Tomorrow morning we have a ride back to Mount Laguna, where we will hop on the trail and pray for decent weather. Good luck to all the hikers out there!
Heading back to the trail after two days at the "Grandview Ranch House". Check out Trigger in the background!
