My day typically starts at 5 AM when I wake up and begin packing for the day. It's a comforting routine done in the gloaming first hint of daylight. I try to hit the trail around 6 while it is still cool out and the morning light makes everything seem dreamy. Early mornings are when I have to work my kinks out and convince my stiff muscles that yes, we are indeed doing this again today.
Today was no exception to my routine and the early morning hike was particularly enjoyable as the trail left the desert hills and wound its way through several miles of grassy pastureland and black and white cows. There was a stiff breeze blowing the tall grass and everything seemed peaceful and right with the world. Walking over rolling hills and talking to cows was a perfect Sunday morning activity. The 8 miles that I needed to cover before getting to the next town, Warner Springs, went by in a flash, which I can't claim about all the miles on this trail thus far. My hiking companions, Dan and Jamie, whom I've been hiking with since the border, stopped to nurse some blisters and I carried on saying, "I'll save you a spot in the chow line!" Happy and enjoying a small creek and large oak trees that remind me of the hills of my youth, I trotted down the trail. My destination being a community center in Warner Springs that is serving as a hiker outpost.
Being the savvy hiker that I am and having such a great morning as I was, I naturally took the hike/bike trail that skirts around town to the Post Office and makes it possible to avoid walking along the Highway which is dangerous and painful on legs accustomed to dirt paths. So I whistled my way through neck high fields of grass taking pictures of barbed wire fences along the way. I arrived at the Highway and had to walk along it for a short bit before arriving at the closed Warner Springs Resort, a resort that just closed this year but in years past was the hot spot for hikers to relax, swim, resupply, and laze about. Seeing the empty golf course was a little jab in the ribs reminding me that this years' hikers would not be able to enjoy those luxuries.
Hot and sweaty, I arrived at a gate to a closed community and asked the man inside, "Where is the community center? Where they have provisions for hikers?" He responded, "Go back down Highway 79, around the bend, about a mile down you'll see it. Next to the high school." ...........What? It turns out that my pastoral detour around town had directly bypassed the place I wanted to be, sent me at least a mile out of my way (when miles really count!), and I had to walk back from where I'd come along the highway after all.
As I grew hotter and hotter, my legs more and more fatigued, and as a parade of monster trucks and fancy motorcycles zoomed along at dizzying speeds, my fanciful mood gradually ebbed away. Going a mile out of your way in a car is far different than two miles out of your way on foot. My head sank lower and lower and I kept chastizing myself for thinking I was soooooo rescourcful. Finally, finally the high school became visible and I finally saw the small, white community center that was filling in for lack of fancy resort. Dan and Jamie, who I'd left behind, had already wolfed down a homemade breakfast, had their shoes off, and asked innocently, "Where ya been?" I threw off my pack in the shade of a giant oak tree and trudged off to the community center.
Immediately I was snapped out of my funk as I realized what this community has done for us, the hikers of the PCT. Knowing that many of us depend on this small town for a resupply spot and a place to unwind, volunteers now staff the quaint, air-conditioned community center daily from 830 AM until 530 PM. There are 4 folding tables in the center of the room covered in plastic tablecloths with easter colors and cheery flowers decorating the edges. There are 3 computers with free internet available for hikers far from friends and family. A power strip allows us to recharge our cell phones and iPods. Local art adorns the walls, a hiker message board greets you at the door, and plastic flowers and plants sit atop the library of paperback books. A TV is playing bad dramas. A small room on the side houses the cashier and a roomful of hiker resupply items: Snickers, energy bars, first aid supplies, crackers. There is a foot bath with epsom salts. The sectioned off kitchen area hides two volunteers who will cook you breakfast all day or a hamburger or hot dog...all for a nominal fee. All proceeds go to the local schools.
And the best part, the most welcome part is the volunteers themselves. It harkens me back to a time when I would accompany my parents to "Fellowship" after church on Sunday mornings: everyone has snow-white hair, probably done up in curlers the night before and is just as pleased as punch to be here, meeting the hikers, and helping us in anyway they can. There are lots of smiles, questions of where we are all from, and a general feeling of hospitality. In their down time there are jigsaw puzzles being put together.
As I spend the rest of my day lounging around outside under the shade of the giant oak, drying my tent of the dew from last night, I periodically come inside to chat with the cheerful volunteers. Not only are they interested in our adventures, but they are excited to share stories of their travels and excursions, especially those who have been to Alaska. People who have been to Alaska love to talk about Alaska. So while a fancy resort with a hot springs pool may have been nice, I am enjoying the quaint homestyle hospitality of people volunteering their time to be here, people who see this as a community service, and the comforting feeling of fellowship that they have created for people they don't know and will never see again in this quirky little community center.
I think I'll go chat with Colletta.....
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| Footbath and pinecone display anyone? Yes, please! |
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