Day 12: Mile 137.0 - 151.8

We were supposed to be out of the rain.

Plan for today was to get to Paradise Valley Cafe (PVC), a famous little meal-spot about a mile off trail, and from there hitch a ride to Idyllwild. (This being part of the "do all of San Jacinto in one go and avoid aptly-named Devil's slide" strategy.) In particular, the plan was to get to PVC before 3pm when they closed, to indulge in said meal. PVC was 15 miles up trail, so I wanted to get started early. I "wanted": I did dilly-dally in the morning because it was frigging cold outside in the dark, and I knew as soon as the sun came up it would get better. But still, I got going maybe an hour after sunrise, after making a quick jaunt to Tule Spring about a quarter mile down this service road, to fill up on water, and headed off.

The trail here is over a desert hillscape, often wandering along the ankles of the hills, going up and down and around this canyon and that slope. It feels very meandering, and you never get high enough to see that far ahead. But the interesting thing in the morning was overhead, where Sun and Wind fought a pitched battle. At times Sun would hold sway, and Wind retreat, and it would be warm down below, with whispers of future heat. But then Wind would sally forth, often under the auspices of its Ally--Cloud--and the world below would darken, and chill, for Wind still held the reins of Storm, weaker than yesterday but still cold. And so the battle waged, back and forth, until by mid-morning an uneasy truce formed, and Sun would shine and Wind would blow both together, sharing the sky. Which was nice, but I still couldn't figure out whether to put on my jacket or leave it off! 

The itinerary today was Mary's Place--about halfway to Paradise Valley Cafe--and then on to Paradise Valley Cafe. I stopped at Mary's Place, a little oasis (there's a big water tank that Mary fills for hikers), some picnic tables to sit, and also a library (!), flanked by cardboard cutouts of Whitman and Muir and Thoreau, twith quotes from each talking about the things you'd expect Whitman and Muir and Thoreau to talk about on a hiking trail! There was even a register that I would have missed had not Uno come up and pointed it out: Mary invited visitors to write "what you learned in 2020". I perused the previous entries with Uno--I think she would end up reading them all--came up with something lame (see below), then headed out, back into the desert hillsides, to continue on, while she waited for Dylan.

And for a little while longer, it was sunny and warm, but then, seemingly out of nowhere, the sky started to darken. It seems that Wind, who looked the Loser, was not Defeated, but just buying time, to return with a vengenance with not only Ally Cloud, but also Ally Rain. So armed, Wind clearly had the upper hand, and Sun disappeared, and the sky grew dark, and then it started to Rain, and then it started to Hail, and just above the low clouds occluding the slopes just above, even Thunder could be heard rattling its saber. And I came to Highway 74, in full rain gear, clutching my umbrella, trying not to slip in the new mud, but still trying to go fast to make it to PVC by 3pm (I was on pace to make it around 2:45pm?--so close!), and I took the left along the highway to divert to PVC, and the hail was starting to come down now, in full storm, and a random driver took pity on me, pulled over just ahead. He rolled down the window: do you want a ride? How far you going?, I asked, although to be fair I would have gone with him wherever at this point. To Paradise, he said. Sure, I said. Toss your stuff in the back and hop in, he said. So I did and I did, and got a ride of less than a mile to PVC. Turns out the guy (who's name I can't remember) was backpacking around San Jacinto with a friend, had his backpack and gear in the back too, and was just randomly passing through. So you see, even in the midst of bad luck--the sky pouring down on me--I found good luck! The trail Provides, as they say.

When I got to Paradise, I promptly got in and ordered up some warm food. There was another hiker there--Marten--who came up to me, recognized me as a PCT hiker, and offered to let me join him at his table. Turns out Marten is from the Netherlands, where they're more used to this type of weather. My feet don't get cold in the rain, he said, I just wear wool socks, but my hands do. Whereas both myfeet and hands do, but the feet are the worst for me. I asked for tips on how to handle the rain. Cover your head, he said, the most heat is lost through the head so keep that warm. Other than that, it's mostly psychological, he said, so try to see the beauty all around you, like how the colors are different in the rain. Good advice, broadly applicable.

Uno came in a few minutes after me, joined Marten and I. She was freezing--shivering for a while. Her clothes were all wet: her Frogg Toggs jacket had ripped and failed, the Frogg Toggs rain pants long since so, so she was just hiking in normal clothes. Plus the rain had come on so sudden she hadn't had time to pull on her rain cover, so all her gear was soaked too! I was pretty impressed she had pushed through to Paradise, honestly: she's definitely much tougher than me!

But the Big Deal about Paradise is the food, and I ordered a burger on Texas toast with coleslaw and a Bundaberg ginger beer, and got to work on a burger so big I doubted I could fit it between my jaws. Marten ate his burger more civilized, with knife and fork. Uno ordered the chili, and spent most of the meal anxiously glancing out the window looking for Dylan. She debated whether to order something for him, and ultimately when he showed up a bit past the 3pm closing time, she gave him half her chili. Dylan of course sauntered in looking like just another day at the office, but I feel he did appreciate the chili.

After that, the trick was to hitch a ride into Idyllwild. I got a ride pretty quick, but he could only take one so I went up alone. Duffy, his name was, a native American dude, retired (though he looked pretty young), and just a guy with a clear head on his shoulders who's nonetheless happy to be amazed at the world. Hey aren't you my Chinese cousin?, he joked when he pulled up. No, I'm your *other* Chinese cousin I replied, lamely, with a laugh. The ride to Idyllwild is about 25 minutes, and we talked about everything, from stories about his relatives (he's got some smart ones) to his love of Chinese-language movies with their bright costumes and palace intrigue (a love which, unfortunately, his wife doesn't share). Duffy had this laid back approach, so easy, so casual, and before I knew it, he had sussed out where I went to school, my job history, and a bunch of questions about chip design. Smart guy: he can definitely hold his own in the cocktail party game!

He dropped me off at the Silver Pines Lodge, where I had reserved a room for two nights. I got the room, put in my laundry (they do your laundry for you for $5: I don't think this is because they're that nice, I think it's because otherwise the hikers break the washing machines), took a shower (you know how people have frosted tips on their fingernails?: well, I have the converse, jet-black tips), played a bit on their piano in the parlor (a Schafer and Sons upright, just like the one back at Bolton only more brown colored), then wandered into town and got a 12-inch supreme pizza which I wolfed down. And that was the day: a quiet end to an otherwise topsy-turvy ride!

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Some notes:

-- Tule Spring > Mary's Place > Paradise Valley Cafe > Idyllwild

-- Here's what I wrote in Mary's book:

"In 2020 I learned that if you're going to make a change then make a change; don't wait for the PCT to help you. Oh, then do the PCT in 2021 anyway!"

Looking back on it, I should probably have substituted "you" with "I": this lesson is pretty specific to me, I think. When I considered the PCT in 2020, I was coming off a project where I was unhappy with my performance. And I was thinking of the PCT as a possible reset to think things through. In 2021, though, I was coming off a project where I was satisfied with how I'd done, and the idea of using the PCT as a reset had disappeared. The PCT wasn't a singularity leading to a life-changing something or other--I try not to believe in such things when looking forward in time anyway--it was a singular chance that presented itself and, when I got the permit, well, I had to take it opportunity and run with it, right? Will it be life-changing? Maybe. But if it is, I don't think it will be some earth-shattering, revelatory thing, but rather perhaps a good push along some lines I had always wanted to pursue, maybe accelerating those threads, hopefully lending them some inertia. All this is to say that, yes, I do have a List of reasons for doing the PCT, but while many items on the List may be the same as last year, this year they're less emotionally fraught, if nothing else, and I think that's a Good Thing.

-- Coming up to the highway, the trail looks out west, where at one point the bushes and trees part and there's an expansive view of the mountains across the valley, tipped in cloud, way over there. And those mountains across the valley, tipped in cloud, way over there, are covered in snow. And I thought: wait, is that San Jacinto? Do I have to go over *that*? Because let me tell you, looking at a snow-covered peak, while you're cold and wet and having enough trouble here in the rain, well, that's not a good headspace! As it turns out, that mountain is *not* San Jacinto and I do *not* have to go over it. Whew!

-- There was a lady on a horse that left from Mary's a bit before I did. I bumped into her again on the final stretch up to the highway, as she was coming back, still sitting tall and proud atop her horse, her well-kept black helmet gleaming in the rain, the horse still calm and steady. Man, even the horse-women out here are *tough*!

-- Oh, for those wondering, Uno and Dylan did get a hitch pretty soon after mine, and somehow managed to get to the Silver Pines Lodge before me. But there was vacancy, they did get a room, and they did dry out and warm up, so everybody ended up ok!

-- To be fair, I did get held up. Duffy dropped me off at Silver Pines Village, a short jaunt up the road from Silver Pines Lodge, and as I was getting out a random thru-hiker introduced himself to me as Raz (from Isreal?, I think?) and said welcome. I chatted a bit with him, eventually asked him for food recommendations. The Bakery is good, he said, and for breakfast, the Red, what is the thing they cook water in?, he asked, tracing it out with his hands. A kettle?, I posited. Yes, the Red Kettle, it is good, he said. (Spoiler alert: he was right!) So that was my delay: a random conversation with a random thru-hiker, which nonetheless yielded good advice. I think that has to go on the "good" luck side of the ledger, don't you think?