One last 18 mile push got us safely to Agua Dulce today. It was a tough 18 miles, winding around shadeless dusty hills in the California sun. Despite growing frustration, which culminated more than once in a sullen, pouty pack-off breaks in the middle of the trail on my part, we made it into town by 2 pm and found ourselves hiking down a highway flanked by open fields and ranch homes. Our first stop was the market, where I put away like half a gallon of ice cream. Then we got a ride to the Saufleys' house from their neighbor.
The Saufleys are trail angels, one of two families famous enough to be featured on the PCT mail drop list, and the Bandana, which lists all the stops between Mexico and Canada. (The other family is the Andersons, twenty something miles up the trail, and I'm sure I'll be writing about them soon enough.)
The Saufleys run a compound called "Hiker Heaven." It's on their property, in their backyard. There are fifty hikers around at any one time, and those hikers may stay a maximum of two nights and three days. Any hikers who arrive after capacity is filled are sadly turned away. Tom, Jerry, Dutch (a guy we've been hiking with for the last few days) and I were numbers 47-50.
There are showers here, and free laundry. And loaner clothes, which you can wear while your normal disgusting hiker clothes are being washed.
We set up our tents down near the horse pen, where there are indeed horses. Huge horses. Draft horses, someone said. There is a white one (a mare) and a black one (whatever a male horse is called (a stallion.-Megan)) I petted the white one through the bars of the fence, and she swung her giant head at me with such force I was startled. Her jaw muscle is as big as my head. I'm not exaggerating.
Dressed up in shorts, a hoodie, and flip flops, I hopped in the back of a pickup truck and cruised with the crew downtown, feeling not like a hiker for once in a long time. We had dinner at a mexican place and came back to Hiker Heaven for beers and hanging out in the cool evening air. I played guitar and sang.
It got late, and most people went to bed. I came down to our campsite, and the black horse shuffled over to the fence and started making horse noises loudly. I walked over to pet him, and he wiped his giant nose all over my leg. There is horse snot on my nice, clean pants. Night.
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