May 27. Day 26.

I'm starting the trip days back up where I left off; not counting the days I spent at home as trip days.

Bolinas to Wrightwood to Guffy Campground (PCT mile 364)

Miles hiked: either 2.1 or 2.7 on Acorn Trail. 1 on PCT.

Up at 4. Making coffee. Final frantic reshuffling of my pack checking for a couple things I thought of while falling asleep last night.

Then driving through the fog, Libby at the wheel, Abbey sprawled out in back, me doling out pumpkin bread and bites of yogurt. We're a little behind schedule but I'm not worried about it. It will be OK if I miss the plane. That will be just a small hurdle, compared to the possibility of being too hurt to hike.

To the airport with plenty of time after all. And now the goodbyes again. Abbey seems to know what's up and is giving me the cold shoulder. Libby doesn't.

On the plane I get a window seat on the left side of the plane and once we climb out of the fog I spend most of the flight gazing east toward the mountains. I can make out a big rock face in Yosemite Valley; I think it's El Capitan, on the north side of the valley near the mouth, catchy the early morning sun. Farther south, Kings Canyon and the high peaks east and south of it. Somewhere there is Whitney, but from this angle it's hard to tell which it it. Even more east, beyond the cleft of Owens Valley, I can see the White Mountains. The high country has snow, and I know there are PCT hikers up there right now, probably approaching a pass to get over it before the snow gets too soft. Or maybe he snow is all soft right now, some of it having just fallen a week or so ago. We bank left across the southern foot of the Sierras, then out over the hot flat high western corner of the Mojave. I will be walking across that in a week or so, if all goes according to plan. Then we bank right again to descend to the LA Basin, and I can see south, where I came from, to Deep Creek Canyon and the mountains around Big Bear, then Sans Gorgonio and Jacinto, and maybe Mt Laguna way off in the smog but I'm not sure.

Deboard the plane and collect my pack and poles, fill a water bottle, then try to walk out of the airport area which proves difficult. There are no sidewalks leaving the airport, so I step through hedges and walk down medians a few blocks to my first bus. Ride that 8 or so miles then walk another mile to the Claremont Grayhound station. I'm a bit over an hour early so I get more breakfast and coffee and loiter at Starbucks. 

Eventually onto the Grayhound, the bus pretty full including a half dozen men and one woman who have just gotten out of jail and are headed home or wherever to restart their lives. The bus chugs around Riverside and San Bernardino making stops here and there; these cities all blend together to me, an outsider, and having different place-names seems pointless. Soon we're climbing Cajon Pass. I stretch to look out he window at my old haunts at the Best Western, for some reason expecting a sense of nostalgia. There's some trail angelling going on near the McDonalds; I'm not sure why someone would set up trail magic right next to the fast food everyone wants to go to, but I'm sure it was appreciated. On the hills above both sides of the interstate I can see the fine line of the trail curing across arid slopes.

The bus spills up and over the pass into the high desert, and before long I'm dropped in Victorville. I catch a taxi the mall, where in another hour and a half I can catch another 2 buses to Wrightwood. The mall is busy and strange and foreign to me, and I get plenty of weird looks. Everyone has lots of tattoos or babies or big bags of stuff hey just bought. I do t fit in. I eat some pizza, then to my surprise see someone sitting next to a couple ULA packs (one of the most popular thru hiker brands). Other hikers! I'm not alone in his strange country after all! They are Hannah and Craig, heading back to the trail after going down to LA to see a Dodgers game of all things. They are headed to Wrightwood too, and we compare notes on bus routes to make sure we'll be going the right way.

We chat a bit more on the bus ride, and get some local flavor. The bus seems like it never got rear shocks, and with every bump it sounds like some part has shaken loose. The locals don't seem to notice.

In Wrightwood were dropped off at the hardware store to pick up our boxes. I had to mail my stove back here since I was flying, and also had to buy fuel and fill up some water bottles. I met a couple other hikers, Chatty Sandy (I think) and Sacagawea. Already meeting some cool hikers that I hope to cross paths with on up the trail.

I get a few groceries (cheese, cookies, chips, deli sandwich and can of Dale's Pale Ale for dinner) then call Libby as I walk toward the trail that climbs the ridge back to the PCT. As I'm walking and talking a little tyke of 6 or 8 with a U.S. map flapping behind him in one had comes up and asks what my trail name is and if I'll write it on his map near where I'm from. As I finish with this his mother hollers over from a mini van if I'd like a ride to the trailhead. Gonna have to call Libby back. Once in the car the boy tells me his trail name is Atlas; fitting given the map and I tell him it's an awesome name. We chat a bit more on the few minute drive then I'm piling out at a gate and waving goodbye. Another quick call to Libby then I'm hiking. 

The Acorn trail has a reputation of being steep. I figured this was just people talking about the hill it goes up, but they really mean the actual trail is steep, despite all the switchbacks it's got. Even though it was about 70 degrees, I kept my long pants on, figuring that a pace slow enough to avoid getting too hot in pants would probably be about right for the leg. This worked well, and as the trail climbed up through J. Pine and sage and lupine and paintbrush j focused on my newly-learned stride, imagining myself being pulled up the trail by a rope tied to my waist belt, trying to use the full motion of my legs equally to pull myself up the trail, rather than leaning into the hill and pushing up with just my calves and quads. It was beautiful hiking, with the setting sun Wendi g beams through tree-lined ridges, flowers glowing in he low light, and views back down to town and out into the desert.

I took a leisurely 2 hours 20 minutes to go the 2.1 (though the sign at the top said 2.7) miles up to the PCT. I couldn't help but feel a little sense of homecoming when I reached the junction. I followed the trail another mile along a ridge to Guffy Campground, where I met and briefly chatted with Bambi and Snack Attack, a couple from Vancouver, BC. After saying goodnight (the sun had just set after all), I unpacked my bag with everything in the wrong place and ate my sandwich and beer dinner before doing a bunch of stretching and getting in bed. Off to the south west the smoggy horizon went from purple sunset right to orange city-glow. Overhead stars come out to play and a crescent moon drifts in and out of the tall trees I'm camped under.

Back on the trail! Time to get down and dirty!

Birds:

Black-headed Grosbeak 

Band-tailed Pigeon 

Stellar's Jay

Mountain Chickadee 

Western Wood-pewee 

Hairy Woodpecker

Fox Sparrow 

American Robin