Day Four: Tehachapi (Rest Day)

From past experience, I was under the impression that rest days were the boring days. You know, sitting around and eating more than your poor little belly can handle while you soak in yesterday’s grunge. But today has been quite the opposite; and in fact, today has been the best yet.

An 8 o’clock alarm reminded us that continental breakfast awaited us, and we headed to the Best Western lobby to feast like kings (and queens). When I say feast, I mean the whole shebang: eggs, bacon, waffles, cereal, miniature muffins, more eggs, more bacon, a cup of coffee, three cups of orange juice, and a spoon of peanut butter for good juju. We shoved our faces with three other hotel dwellers, who turned out to be hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. Their names were Motown, Possum, and Bat, and they informed us that trail names were the norm around these parts. After chit-chatting back and forth, we learned that Motown loves milk, and that Bat—a legally blind man in his forties—has been hiking for 4.5 years without a residence. We asked Motown whether the movie, “Wild” had an affect on her choice to begin hiking the PCT, and she wittily responded, “No, but ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ sure did.” Pretty sure she’s sick of getting that question.

We requested late checkout, and late checkout we received. By 2:30 p.m. we had used every hotel amenity available from the ice machine to the laundry to the scuzzy outdoor pool and hot tub, and then were politely kicked out (not really, but I’m sure they were glad we left). We further avoided the cold day outside by lugging our gear over to Starbucks and loitering for another two hours before enjoying a five-star meal from K-Mart. I was unaware that K-Mart is still in business. By 5 p.m., we had overstayed our welcome in the town of Tehachapi, and we remembered a small campsite that Motown’s crew had recommended. We followed a long road toward a small airport on the outskirts of town, where we were greeted by a landmark: an old U.S. Army Huey with an American flag.

Now, when I say “airport”, I’m afraid you might be getting the wrong picture; this place is quite literally a huge field with a large paved area for private planes. Chain link fence surrounds 264 acres of seemingly abandoned planes, and a manicured patch of grass and trees is a secret spot for through hikers to camp out. On the edge of the property lies a small house that hikers call “The Lodge” and it is full of food, coffee, pots and pans, and even a shower. No one seems to know who owns the place that smells like sweaty soccer shin guards and is full of treasures from trail hikers of days past. The group of about 15 hikers (generally hiking on their own or in pairs) come together night after night in The Lodge for an evening of television, heat (or air conditioning) and shared packets of hot sauce (a luxury).

The airport campground shared a level of camaraderie that we had never experienced—in fact, I’m having quite a hard time describing it. Two guys by the names of DuPont and Llama were among the 10 or 15 hikers that we met at The Lodge, and their first instinct was to hand us two beers—right up our alley. The best friends are from Santa Cruz, CA, and they share passions for big wave surfing and fears of giant wind turbines. DuPont and Llama shared their wisdom of the different hiker-types, for example: the 30 mile per day trekker who doesn’t stop for the only shady spot of the day (the over-doer), or the 15 mile per day stroller who boozes at every bar along the way. The laughter they shared was like none we have encountered along the way, and we can only hope to run into them further down the road. To all you Pacific Northwesterners out there, make sure to help these guys out when they cross through the Columbia River Gorge!

The rest of the night was spent lounging in The Lodge with a crew who told stories of blisters and waterfalls and the worries of returning to the “real world”. These guys are the real deal, and just being in their presence has made us question why the rest of the world isn’t (at least a little bit) more like this.