Lucy Ondo

CHAPTER NINE           (VVR MILE 879 TO SONORA PASS MILE 1018.5)

LESSON LEARNED: On rainy mornings, eat breakfast in your tent.

Day 81, Friday, June 20

The early morning ferry ride to the northern point of the lake to catch the trail was refreshing and peaceful gliding over the still water at sunrise. There were three other hikers on the boat (it turned out to be a boat—not a ferry), and we quickly dispersed at our own hiking pace along the trail. The first seven miles of the day consisted of climbing up Silver Pass (10,748’). Luckily the trail was clear and although snow edged the trail at the top, the trail was not snow covered.

Leaving the VVR

At the summit, several Forest workers were collecting rock samples. A forest ranger came over, looked at me, then looked around.

“Do you have a hiking permit?”  he asked.

I had the required permit buried in a pocket deep inside my backpack. Getting to it would involve removing stuff sacks.

“Would someone my age be out here without a permit?” I frowned, hoping to talk my way out of unpacking.

“You’d be surprised.” He shrugged his broad shoulders and smiled, showing a row of straight white teeth.

“What would you do if I didn’t have a permit?” This would be interesting.

“Well, ma’am, I would escort you to the nearest exit out of the park.” He stood up a little straighter, looking stern and severe. I took off my pack and started unpacking.

“You could escort me anywhere.” I laughed and handed him my permit. His face flushed pink with embarrassment.

“Do you have a bear canister?” he persisted.

“Yes, I do.” I reached down to pull the canister out of my pack, “It’s right here.”

“Never mind, I guess I believe you.” He turned and walked toward the other Rangers, chuckling.

I collected snow in my water bottle and hiked on. I did not often take the chance to eat snow, but it was a warm day, and the patches of snow in the rocks bordering the trail looked inviting.

Coming off Silver Pass, I walked into a wall of mosquitoes. I stopped to put on a mosquito head net and to apply repellent. First I applied deet to my exposed skin. When the mosquitoes landed and bit through my shirt and pants, I stopped again to apply repellent all over my clothes, skin, shoes, socks, and hat. I even put repellent inside my ears. The repellent discouraged the mosquitoes. They continued to relentlessly fly at me, bombarding me in every direction.

At the top of a lesser pass somewhere between mile 891 and 892, I caught sight of an open flat gravel meadow and hurriedly put up my tent seeking relief from the persistent and mercilessly bombardment of mosquitoes. There was no water source nearby, but I knew I could get water in the morning.

The tent went up in record time, and I jumped inside for relief. I didn’t dare open the tent door to cook dinner, so I rummaged around in my food sack for cheese and snacks.

Day 82, Saturday, June 21

I hesitantly crawled out of the tent in the morning and discovered a strong breeze was keeping the mosquitoes at bay. It was a quiet day of hiking along the steep sides of a series of mountains with great views into stretches of steep canyons and ravines. I was alone on the trail.  Many hikers had opted to head a few miles off trail to a hot springs.  As good as the idea of a hot springs sounded, in my imagination, hot springs should come with big fluffy towels and a nice warm bathrobe.  I stayed on the PCT.

A few miles out from Reds Meadow (mile 906.7), I started meeting day hikers.

A lady, small and proper, stopped me on the trail. She was dressed in new hiking clothing and carried a small red daypack. She stopped short as we passed.

“I just met two women hiking naked,” she was wide-eyed and distressed. Her words were like bullets. She looked over her shoulder back in the direction she came and added with disapproval, “ and one definitely should have kept her clothes on!”

I thought for a moment, furrowed my brow, cocked my head, puzzled.

“Aaww. It’s summer solstice, June 21. Hike naked day on the PCT.” My explanation was all I could offer.

About a mile down the road, I was overtaken on the trail by a naked couple bouncing quickly down the trail. Luckily, I was able to take it in stride as I stepped aside to let them pass without any show of surprise.  I wondered if the packs rubbed their bare backs raw.

Reds Meadow is a packing station with bus service to Mammoth Mountain Ski Lodge on the mountain above. I needed a fuel canister for my Jetboil making it necessary to go off the trail. I purchased a bus ticket to Mammoth in the small store at Reds Meadow just as the bus pulled in.

When I arrived at Mammoth, I called every hotel in town looking for a room. Evidently, several events had filled the hotels. I ended up paying a very high price for a two-star hotel room.

Later in the day, I went out to eat dinner and took a free shuttle bus ride around the resort. The bus was not crowded, the driver was eager to share her knowledge of the resort and gave me a full tour.

Day 83, Sunday, June 22

After shopping, I checked out of the hotel and crossed the street to catch the shuttle up to the Mammoth Mountain Ski Lodge parking lot for the bus ride back to Reds Meadow. As I crossed the street, the shuttle lurched forward and pulled away from the curb. Darn, darn, darn I was thinking to myself. I sat down with disappointment in the kiosk to await the next shuttle.

A woman waved to me from a white car parked at the curb. Not knowing anyone in Mammoth, I hesitantly approached and was surprised to see Mandy and Josh in the car. I had last seen them on Kearsarge Pass. They were coming down the pass as I was hiking back up. I barely recognized them in their street clothes, looking clean, fresh and relaxed.

Having quit the trail when they came out at Independence, they were driving around taking a rest from hiking. Currently, they were staying in Mammoth with no plans to return to the trail. It felt sad to wave goodbye when they dropped me at the bus stop at the ski lodge. It had been great fun to run into them along the trail.

Guessing it might be a good idea to eat before leaving civilization, I ate lunch on the deck of a Restaurant near the ski lodge. The bus to and from Reds Meadow is a shuttle that stops at each of the tourist destinations and campgrounds on the thirty-minute ride from the ski lodge down a steep road to the pack station, Reds Meadow.

At the end of Highway 203 at the Mammoth Mountain Inn, there is limited access to the road onward, leaving the shuttle to provide transportation for day visitors going into the valley.

I could have gotten off the bus at High trail skipping a few trail miles and taken a short cut back to get on the PCT, but I did not want to miss the Devil’s Postpile, and I wished to return to the trail where I left.

Just as I got off the bus back at Reds Meadow, Spirit Finger and his group hiked in. We sat around talking while they waited for the next bus.

Mountain Spice and I got out our cell phones to friend each other on Facebook.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“Lucy.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Get outta here. My name’s Lucy.” We laughed together as we exchanged information.

Spirit Fingers

Jambo

Apple Butter

Mountain Spice

It was early afternoon, and I was planning to get in as many miles as possible for the day. I hiked out of Reds Meadow in the sunshine, clean and rested. It was interesting stopping at the Devil’s Postpile National Monument to view the sixty-foot-high hexagonal shaped columnar basalt rock formations much like the basalt columns along the Columbia River near Vantage in Washington State.

A few miles down the trail, I started to feel sick.   It was a reaction to having eaten something with gluten.

Knowing what was likely to come next, I studied my map and saw Upper Soda Springs campground (mile 911) ahead. Passing over a bridge and seeing the campground in the distance, I ran.

To a thru-hiker, an actual campground with a table, fire ring, and a toilet nearby is luxurious. After I had gotten everything under control, I built a campfire and sat back to relax. A few luxuries are pleasing when not feeling well.

Upper Soda Springs Campground

Day 84, Monday, June 23

Early morning took me through an interesting mixture of aspen, willow, and cottonwood trees and occasionally along the edge of open grassy meadows.  I was happy to be fully recovered from yesterday.

After reaching High trail and getting through the switchbacks up the mountain, the trail stayed high with dramatic views across to Rainbow Falls.

1000 Island Lake was the highlight of the day. I stopped to take a break and enjoy the incredible beauty of the large lake dotted with small islands with an outline of sharp snow-covered peaks in the far background. The edge of the lake was lined with thick spongy peat moss making for an excellent place to lay back and rest.

1000 Island Lake

A few miles above 1000 Island Lake along the banks of a rushing creek as water tumbled over rocks on a downward flow off the mountainside, I camped at mile 927. It was just a few miles before Donohue Pass.

Day 85, Tuesday, June 24

The sun came up as I reached the top of Donohue Pass (11,073 ‘). The snow on the trail had almost melted away, allowing the trail to be discernible and relatively easy to follow.

From the top of the pass, the view of Lyell Canyon into Tuolumne Meadows was spectacular. High granite cliffs descended into the forests of ponderosa. In the long wide valley a flat ribbon river meandering gradually through the open meadows. It was my magical introduction to Yosemite National Park. When I think of Yosemite I will always remember this day and this view and how lucky I was to be introduced to the park in this dramatic fashion.

Looking down Lyell Canyon

Once in the valley, it was a long walk into Tuolumne. The valley was alive with Melissa Blue butterflies buoying me along the trail. I followed the edge of the forest and the grassy sub-alpine meadow along the Tuolumne River.

There were a few day hikers along the trail during the last few miles.

I rented a room at The Lodge at mile 941.7. The Lodge is made up of tent cabins.

Day 86, Wednesday, June 25

The wood stove in my tent cabin room was cozy, and I was unwilling to leave the warmth of the room until check out time.

The trail to Glen Aulin was crowded with day hikers and an endless cacophony of noise.

The trail followed along the Tuolumne River as it curved lazily through meadows.   The landscape changed, and the river became a series of cascades and waterfalls ending in the white cascade at Glen Aulin. I sat at the base of Glen Aulin and enjoyed lunch in the magnificent surroundings.  Few day hiker make it this far; it was quiet and peaceful.

From Glen Aulin I hiked along expecting to see other PCT hikers and saw no other persons.  However, I felt relief from the oppressive crowds of tourists.

I solo camped beside the Matterhorn Creek at mile 962.

Day 87, Thursday, June 26

Around three in the morning, I woke to the sound of rain on my tent. At daybreak, I packed quickly without eating breakfast, a big mistake. Eventually, when I stopped to eat, I got wet and cold in the rain. I would have been better off to have waited out the rain and eaten breakfast in the shelter of the tent.

Struggling over a sloping granite rock, Sprinkle suddenly appeared in the pouring rain dressed in a bright red rain jacket, she smiled, said hello, and quickly disappeared up the trail. She was the only hiker I saw all day.

In the afternoon the rain cleared, and the sun made a brief appearance. I stopped and spread out my tent to dry on an outcropping of large rocks. I timed it well. As soon as I packed up, the rain began again.

During the remainder of the day every time I topped a ridge it was foggy with poor visibility. The rain made the granite rocks slippery and difficult to cross over.

There were several creek fords, none dangerous. My feet were wet anyway.

I solo camped at 980.  It rained lightly during the night.  I was snuggled warmly inside my tent and extremely happy I had the chance to dry my tent in the only short period of time the sun made an appearance.

Day 88, Friday, June 27

I Hiked all day without seeing another person. The weather changed quickly from the sun to clouds. I hiked in and out of three steep granite canyons with short, sharp switchbacks. The large slabs of granite on the trail remained slippery from the rain.  By noon it was sunny again.

It was a relief to finally look ahead into a series of meadows and realize I was finally out of the granite canyons.  At lunch, I stopped at the edge of a small lake and was enchanted with the hundreds of periwinkle blue dragonflies swirling around me as I stretched out in the grass. It is an odd feeling to be so much alone in the vast wilderness.

Lunch

I solo camped above Dorothy Lake at mile 996.

At this point, I could make dinner and have the energy to enjoy eating at the end of each day. It felt good to eat and take my pack weight down accordingly.

I was beginning to realize the advantages to solo camping. First, it was quiet at night. Second, I could get up and pee closer to my tent during the night without the need to stumble away from camp in the dark. Third, I could pack up in the morning making as much noise as required without the worry of waking other hikers.

In the last two days, the only human contact had been the quick hello from Sprinkle as she passed me on the trail. I was alone and enjoying the solitude.

Day 89, Saturday, June 28

It was a cold morning and I could not open my bear canister. The plastic top was too stiff, and my fingers could not manage the lock.  When the screwdriver on the Swiss Army knife was unable to ply the lid open, I decided to hike out and stop once the sun was up. As I passed Dorothy Lake, there were a couple of tents in the distance but no one stirring. Shortly after Dorothy Lake, I exited the Yosemite National Park northern boundary.

A few miles down the trail a series of large round rocks was the perfect place to take a break.  After spreading out my tent and sleeping bag to dry in the morning sun, I warmed my hands around a hot cup of coffee perched on a rock.   A hiker passed along the trail and stopped.

“Congratulations on reaching 1000 miles.” He smiled. I knew at once he was a section hiker as he was wearing hiking boots. Most PCT hikers are not hospitable to section hikers, but I had so little human interaction since Reds Meadow, I was happy to have a conversation.

“My GPS indicated the 1000 mile point on the PCT would be at a bridge. I crossed a log over a creek without realized it was the expected 1000 mile ‘bridge.’   Somehow in my mind, a log over a creek is not a bridge. I missed the marker and failed to get a photo of my achievement,” I laughed at my own stupidity.

He was section hiking to Echo Lake where he had arranged for his wife to pick him up from the trail. He was a tall man with graying blond hair. His face showed a week of gray stubbles along his chin. He was wearing a tan hiking shirt and green hiking pants with zippers in the legs. He had a mosquito net hung unevenly over his head at an awkward angle. He said his name was Ernie.

“What’s your trail name?” I asked.

“Don’t have one.” He gave the impression of being lonely and prolonged the conversation past the normal trail interaction. Presently, he bid me farewell and hiked on. I was left in the silence of the morning.

Rubiks at the 1000 mile point.  Photo provided by Rubiks.

Hiking was uneventful, but I fully appreciated being out of the granite canyons of Yosemite. I was happy with the sunny, warm weather after the rain. At lunchtime, I stopped in Kennedy Canyon along a stream to filter water. A young couple came along and invited me to join them for a lunch break. We found a picnic spot above the creek under tree cover and unpacked our lunches.

Sprinkle hiked in and joined us. Shortly, Ernie joined the group.

The couple had started the trail at Mojave and were planning to meet friends at Sonora Pass to take them up to Lake Tahoe. Sprinkle was going to hitch to Bridgeport at Sonora Pass to return the bear canister rented at Kennedy Meadows. I was planning to hitch to Bridgeport as I had been without cell service and was eager to contact my husband and daughter and let them know I was fine. Ernie was camping one more night along the trail before Sonora Pass and hitching into Kennedy Meadows North to pick it up his resupply box.

The first part of the afternoon hiked was up a 2000’ elevation gain through the sparsely vegetated Emigrant Wilderness. There were lengthy switchbacks along the mountainside in an open landscape without tree coverage. There were expansive views over an area of glaciated landscape and granite peaks beyond.

Looking back at the climb.

Ahead on the trail, I could see Sprinkle making better time.

Ernie, pictured above Carson Pass.

At the top, I stopped to take a video of the view. I noticed Ernie on the trail below. I had assumed he was planning to camp at our lunch spot as the notes in my guide indicated there were no camping within ten miles of Sonora Pass.

At the top was a long ridge walk with steep ravines on both sides. Occasionally, the trail crossed frozen snowfields. After crossing over several patches of slushy, icy snow, at one point I hiked up over rocks to avoid the snow, lost my footing as the rocks gave way, and fell onto the snow below. Luckily, I was close to the edge and was able to reach out and catch myself from sliding into the ravine.

Some of the snow fields had red watermelon snow, where the footprints crossed, indicating the presence of algae.

Because of the difficulty of hiking, I stopped frequently for breaks with Sprinkle and the couple. At one point we were all resting on rocks at the edge of the trail checking for cell service when Ernie caught up.

“You’ve come this far. We’re only four miles from Sonora Pass. You had better just hike on in and hitch like the rest of us.” I teased him.

On the descent into Sonora Pass, I lost sight of the couple and Sprinkle. Ernie and I reached Sonora Pass at the same time.

As soon as we arrived, a car pulled up and asked if we wanted to go westward. I told the driver I was headed to Bridgeport, eastward. Ernie turned down the ride and said he would hitch eastward with me since he did not actually require his resupply.

Tucked into the Sonora Pass sign were cardboard signs previous hikers uilized for hitchhiking, “Kennedy Meadows” and “Bridgeport”.

I took out the “Bridgeport” sign and stood by the road. We had arrived at four in the afternoon. Many cars passed going east on the highway but no one stopped to offer us a ride. Time passed. A motorcyclist on an expensive bike stopped and chatted with Ernie. It annoyed me knowing the parked motorcycle was keeping potential rides from stopping. He stayed and chatted on and on and on. In the growing darkness, the cyclist lifted his leg over his motorcycle, started the engine and pulled out, not offering to take either one of us with him.

It was time to reconsidered my options. Upon arrival at the highway, I had emptied my water to lighten my pack for hitching. Now it looked as if I was must find water and a campsite. I knew from my map there should be a day use picnic site somewhere on the far side of the road. I made a guess at the direction and took off walking along the road in search of the site.

I saw the road sign for the picnic site and hurried up toward a car parked in the lot. It was a man called The Owl who was providing trail magic during the day. He said he camped each evening at a campground a few miles away. His car was too loaded with food and coolers for him to take riders in the car to the campsite. As we talked, Ernie joined us.

The Owl advised it was easier hitch into Kennedy Meadows North and we would have better luck getting a ride in that direction. Together Ernie and I agreed at this late hour to take The Owl’s advice and try for a hitch to Kennedy Meadows North.

We walked down to Hwy 108 on the picnic road, stuck out the sign and the first passing car stopped. It was a young couple from San Francisco with two large friendly dogs. I got into the back seat with the wife and the two dogs and enjoyed licks from the excited dogs on the ride down Sonora Pass. The couple drove us up to the pack station of Kennedy Meadows North instead of dropping us at the highway. It was dark when we arrived; well past nine in the evening.

As we got out of the car, Ernie stopped to speak with a hiker named Che.

I rushed ahead to find out if there was a room available. The lady in the store was very nice and said yes they had one last bed to rent. For $30 I could have a dormitory style bed, shower and wash my clothes. She directed me to the back office where I paid. The woman at the back office took me on a tour of the showers and laundry and then took me up a narrow back staircase to the bunk rooms.

She switched on a light as we entered. The room was bare except for five single beds. Two of the beds had been shoved together and on the beds lay a couple clearly annoyed by our unexpected arrival. They were upset either over my being added to their room or annoyed at being interrupted.

I quickly dropped my pack on the bed in an alcove by the door and exited the room in search of the restaurant. I made my way down to the office just as I heard the woman at the desk explain to Ernie there were no more beds available.

“Oh, no, no,” I exclaimed, “there are five beds in my room and only three taken.” I did not want to be alone with the annoyed couple.

“Are you two together?” the lady asked of me.

“No, …no.” I admitted slowly and added, brightly. “But we did hitch in together.”

It was settled. Ernie would join me in the dormitory room. Unfortunately, the restaurant had closed for the night. We were taken into the dining room and given soup ‘on the house’. It was a large bowl of delicious, hearty vegetable and beef soup.  An unexpected treat.

I went off to the shower.

When I returned to the room, I found Ernie alone in the room. The couple, who were at the beginning of a pack trip, had balked at sharing the room with hikers and had been given separate quarters. Ernie and I were now left awkwardly alone. Ernie had chosen a bed by the window, which he pulled opened for fresh air.

Suddenly, the door was flung wide, and a short man carrying a pack and one trekking pole entered the room. He wore a red jacket and black shorts. He dropped his pack on the first empty bed.

Enduro was an Italian-American with a friendly and brash attitude. He had a quick smile. Enduro said he was 56 and looked ten years younger. He was confident of his fitness commenting how he taught spin classes several times a week, biked, and ran marathons.  His constant chatter filled the awkwardness between Ernie and me.

He was section hiking the PCT from Kennedy Meadows-south to the border of Oregon, having hiked the Oregon section the previous year. Enduro clearly enjoyed talking about the PCT and had ready advice.

His having hiked down into Sonora Pass in the dark did leave a favorable impression.

Ernie had picked up his resupply box was setting aside the excess food when Enduro arrived. Enduro asked if he could have the extra food and was thrilled when Ernie agreed to share.  A win-win for both hikers.

While they were discussing and dividing the food, I went in search of a beer. I had seen a busy bar next door. The bar was crowded with locals instead of hikers. Approaching the bar through the crowded dance floor I came upon the store clerk. She bought me a beer and I sat down to enjoy the bar scene. Kennedy Meadow North was a pack station and the bar was filled with wranglers and pack station employees enjoying Saturday night. The music was loud and the dance floor overflowing. Cold beer was the perfect refreshment.

Kennedy Meadows North had the most complete hikers resupply store on the entire trail. I was really happy to purchase and reorganize my food for the next section. I had not planned to come here. As I had feared, they had no cell service. I found KM-N a trail friendly place and on the whole, one of the better trail stops.

Day 90, Sunday June 29, 2015

Headed out across the lawn to the laundry room with Enduro, we met two women, day hikers staying at one of the cabins at the resort. Enduro struck up a conversation with the women and they offered to give us a ride back up to Sonora Pass once our laundry was done. I assumed this offer included the three of us.

When I arrived at the front porch at the appointed time to catch our ride, everything was in an uproar. Ernie could not find his wallet. The two women told us they could only take two hikers in their small car.

A beat-up looking van was parked nearby. Standing next to the van were two men who kindly offered to give me a hitch back to the trail. Both were drinking beer. One man with long blond dreadlocks pulled back into a ponytail introduced himself as Mover. CrazyBird, a tall thin man in a well-worn fringed jacket stood next to him. As generous as their offer was, it appeared an uncertain situation. I thanked them for the offer and explained I already had a ride and quickly jumped in the car with the women. I was joined in fast order by Enduro. Ernie was left to find his wallet and a ride back to Sonora Pass.

On the ride up, Enduro kept up a lively conversation with the women and I perceived they enjoyed Enduro’s attentions. I took in the scenic view in silence, happy to let Enduro take charge of the conversation.

The two women dropped us at the picnic site at Sonora Pass and we joined the other hikers at the outdoor café set up by The Owl, Dr. Hank Magnuski. A print tablecloth covered the table laden with displays of bananas, strawberries, green grapes, chocolate cake, carrot cupcakes, and chocolate chip cookies. The Owl, an interesting trail angel well-known in the telecommunications industry, had smartly arranged food and wifi. A sign on the table proclaimed simply “Sonora Pass Café”. A mosquito was aptly pictured on the dartboard hanging on the tree nearby.

Hikers gathered at ‘Sonora Pass Cafe’

I busily utilized the wifi to email my family and post to Facebook. There was no phone service for calls, but I was thrilled to contact my family and let them know I was okay. The Animal was among the hikers at the table. I had last seen him at Kennedy Meadows-South. I noticed the tops of his running shoes were sewn together with floss.  Clever.

Most hikers were simply passing through and not hitching out for supplies.

As I sat visiting I began to worry about Ernie. He had not arrived. At the end of two hours, I was extremely concerned. Just when I was about to go back in search of him, feeling guilty for leaving him behind to hitch a ride with the two sketchy characters, the old van pulled up.

Here is Ernie’s version of his experience getting back to the trail at Sonora Pass:

I joined Home Girl and Enduro for breakfast at the cafe. The eggs, pancakes and coffee were a welcome change from the oatmeal I eat in camp. A trail angel from cabin 8 offered a ride in her Toyota RAV-4 to the trail, but only had room for 2. CrazyBird (tall, leather fringed jacket, leather hat with feather) and Mover (long blond dreadlocks) were offering up a ride in a Toyota 4WD camper van loaded to the gills with camping gear, amps, guitars, and assorted stuff. The trail angel ride was the solid bet, but what CrazyBird and Mover lacked in polish they made up for with sincerity. Enduro and HG left with the tail angel. While doing a last inventory of my pack before leaving I was unable to find my wallet. Crazy Bird and Mover graciously said they could wait while I did a search.

I retraced my steps but never found it. Cash, credit card and license are not trail essentials to continue the hike. I rejoined Crazy Bird and Mover who were enjoying a beer on the front porch. We moved out to the Toyota van and spent the next 15 minutes moving stuff from the interior to the already overloaded roof rack to make room for me and my pack. Mover bought one more 12 pack for the road and we mounted up.

Crazy Bird and Mover had been following the herd of PCT hikers since southern California providing trail angel services (rides, drink, food, etc.). They had lots of stories about being poor and life on the road and hikers. They depended on the generosity of those they were helping to pay their way for the summer. Their plan was to continue on to northern California and hang out at the music festival in Quincy. Despite my recent loss of credentials and cash they were still glad to have me aboard and even offered to give me a few dollars to tide me over.

Crazy Bird started up the van and the oil light immediately came on. We all piled out and Mover and Crazy Bird searched through the back for a can of oil. We had to move lots of stuff to get to the engine behind the drivers seat. The oil went in quickly and we shoved all the stuff around one more time and jumped back in.

We pulled out of the parking lot and headed up the grade to Sonora pass. With the 3 of us and the load of stuff, progress was steady but not quick. A few miles up the road a line of cars built up behind our lumbering van. Crazy Bird was able to pull over a couple times at passing lanes, but further up the pass the road got much steeper and there were no more passing lanes.

Crazy Bird told me about his troubles and how he was much happier on the road. He had problems with PTSD and wasn’t very good when stressed. He thought the best way to stay even was to use a little herb. The cars lining up behind us definitely stressed him out so he toked up. He spotted a slightly wider spot in the dirt shoulder and pulled the van over next to a very steep drop off. The line of cars happily passed us by.

Crazy Bird engaged the 4 wheel drive and carefully double footed the brake, clutch and gas pedals to inch the van off the dirt shoulder back to the pavement. Despite his best efforts, the wheels spun and the van inched ever closer to the edge of the precipice to the ravine below. Mover and I were both doing our best to keep him calm while keeping a watchful eye on the inches of dirt between us and oblivion. I was ready to jump out but Crazy Bird said “hold on” and dropped into reverse gear and backed downhill off the shoulder and onto the pavement. The road was too steep at that point to get the van moving forward so Crazy Bird moved the van over to the opposing lane and backed a mile or so down the road. The three or four cars that passed us going up the grade figured out what we were doing and we avoided ramming oncoming cars and the guard rails by a good margin. Crazy Bird was really good at backing up, the brakes didn’t overheat and we never went faster than 30 to 40 mph.

Eventually the grade shallowed and Crazy Bird got back in forward gear. Everyone stopped sweating and we had a good laugh about our brush with death. The van carried us the rest of the way to the pass and we all piled out in the parking lot at the trail head. I thanked them profusely for the ride and felt bad I didn’t have any cash to offer them. The generosity and adventure provided by Crazy Bird and Mover this day were priceless. I’ve been trying to pay it forward ever since.

I was surprised to find Home Girl and Enduro waiting for me at the parking lot. They were ready to mount a search party to come rescue me. It warmed my heart that they waited- I had only met them the day before. We only made 10 miles on the trail before camping due to my late start, but the stories around the dinner campfire were especially entertaining that night.