Day 34: Zero day in Pasadena

Ended up spending a full zero day in Pasadena, crashing at Ian's place. Originally I had wanted to drop into Pasadena, resupply in the morning, then head back out in the afternoon, but logistically that got busy so instead of rushing, I took the day.

Here's the thing: the PCT is closed between Vincent Gap (at mile 374) and Three Points (at mile 403) due to the Bobcat Fire. For a while, Highway 2 between those points was open at select times, so some folks were contemplating doing a road walk. But then a couple nights ago, evidently a boulder the size of a semi fell down upon the highway on that stretch, just above where the PCT goes, and CalTrans just shut everything down, all the time. The sign clearly says "Pedestrians Prohibited" and you can go, but if you get caught it's a $5000 fine and (possibly) 6 months in jail. Oh, and the rumor is that the guy who did get caught?, they revoked his permit as well. So yeah, I'm not doing that section, but moving on up to mile 403. You need a ride to get there, though--the Bobcat Fire closure extends north-and-south all the way to the edge of Angeles National Forest so there's no good way to hike around it--so I was coming into Pasadena anyway, spending the night, then getting a ride to the other side of the closure.

Most of my info about this closure came from a hiker Ismael and I had met at the Vincent Gap parking lot. I'll just call him W for now to preserve his privacy (for reasons that will become obvious), but W was a hoot. Funny, funny guy, with a very wry sense of humor and (as Ismael said) a great attitude. W had gone into town to get his second Moderna shot and was now feeling like crap: his arm was hurting, and now the flu-like symptoms were kicking in and it was just crap. Why'd I even get this thing he asked (although rhetorically, he knew why). He was going to spend a couple nights here at Vincent Gap recovering from the shot, stealth camping at a little flat campsite just below the parking lot. A trail angel had given him a ride up, and given him boxes of protein bars and a box of capri-sun-esque juice pouches, and he was looking at all this stuff in these plastic grocery bags and saying, what am I going to do with all this? I'm not going to carry all this! So he was giving it away. I took some bars off him, a couple of juice boxes (although when he finally drank one of the juice boxes, he admitted, hey, this is really good, so maybe I should have left him the juice boxes; eh, but I'd already drank them).

W was an older guy--59--and was a former surf instructor. He had a great way of looking at things, though. His bag was heavier--he used more reliable gear than the ultralight crowd--although he pointed out: wait, so I'm 59 and Chef's 61 (he had met Chef) and we're carrying all this heavier gear (like more robust stove systems that actually work in cold weather), but these kids in their 20s are out here, all about their "ultralight" gear, and they're shaving the handles off their toothbrushes to save 2 ounces and complaining about the weight of their packs? How's *that* make sense?

And these people going into the prohibited area along Highway 2 or hiking the PCT through the burn area. Evidently America's education system isn't what it used to be because when I was in school they taught us how to *read*.

And so much more besides. We sat with W for over an hour I think, so there was plenty more. But through it all, W would kvetch and joke but wouldn't really complain. It wouldn't bother him, he was just letting off humor. Sure he has lots of snark, even a bit of sass, but he has very little bitterness, and that makes a big difference. The thing is, W actually has terminal cancer. It had started as prostate cancer, but then metastisized into his bones and everywhere else. He's doing the PCT as something he's always wanted to do: when I asked him the natural question of how far are you going, his response was, as far as I can. But he has a great attitude about it all. WW tells the story of how--he's a smoker--and his oncologist came out to do a few miles with him (evidently she hiked for like 15 minutes then said, man, this is too hard, so they ended up just camping and cooking but, eh, that was fine). At a restaurant, he went outside to smoke and one of the servers commented that he shouldn't do that, it's bad for his health. And his oncologist had turned to the server and said, I'm his oncologist. He has terminal cancer. I'm encouraging him to smoke to help deal with the stress. W noticed that the server wouldn't look him in the eye the rest of the time he was there, although he didn't know why unti his oncologist told him the story later. He took a cigarette while we were waiting, too, politely bowing out across the street, by the massive pile of debris that CalTrans had already hauled off the 2. But he was an absolute hoot, and for a guy who only has the present, he seemed to be taking it in remarkably good spirits.  

And a big personality! As you can see, he's preempted this entry! This entry was supposed to be about the zero day in Pasadena, hmm, well, it was a pretty chill day in Pasadena. I did laundry, lost a zipper on my pants, fixed the zipper on my pants (there's a trick to it), washed out my gear, bought way too much food for the Acton resupply (see below), even took a nap in the middle of the day. And Ian made sure that we visited restaurants for breakfast lunch and dinner, stuffed me full of plenty of calories. Could it have been done in half a day? Maybe (well, not the eating), but I didn't want to just walk off and saddle Ian with prepping a 7-day resupply by himself. (Although I kind of did: he prepped the resupply in the evening while I prepped my bag.) And it was strange to sit around and see the working world--or the work-from-home world--again, and realize it's probably as lonely as the trail: you encounter people in passing, chat for half an hour or an hour, then go back to your own thing for hours on end. Is this good or bad? I dunno: without the silent trees and the pounding hillsides and the intimidating deserts around the corner, spending so much time alone in your head seems strangely tough.

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Some notes:

-- Some folks were arguing that it would be possible to hike the PCT in the fire closure area: the fire didn't affect the PCT that much so there weren't that many dead trees, and the water sources along the trail weren't contaminated by fire deterrent. Me, though, couldn't go with that argument. I know in Cleveland National Forest, after a fire they close the area not to keep people safe (ok, maybe to keep people safe), but mostly because they want to let a rainy season (or two) go by and let the land recover in its own way, without being trampled by eager hikers and campers. And since I've done trail work, I couldn't in good conscience go walking around--to say nothing of camping around, and wandering to find water around, and digging catholes around--a burn area. So I'll skip ahead. And in future, return and hike this section when it's reopened. Plus, this section includes the peak of Baden-Powell, which I haven't done before, so that'll be a bonus to look forward to!

-- So here's the plan: from mile 403 it's about a three-day hike to Acton KOA at mile 444. From there, the next stop is Tehachapi at mile 566, that is, about 120 miles further down the trail. Acton KOA is just a campground--no real store per se--so Ian'll mail me a full resupply box with 7 days worth of food to make the trek to Tehachapi. (Tehachapi's a real town, so I'll go into town and resupply locally once I'm there.) From Tehachapi--well, that's looking more than two stops ahead, and I don't do that because it just freaks me out!