Feeling strong and rested, I left the Sauffley's before dawn. I know today's going to be a tester because I'll be road walking due to the closure of the PCT because of the damage done by last year's Station Fire. Not exactly what I had envisioned, passing through housing subdivisions and country estates, semis rumbling by on paved country roads. At least I could take some pleasure from the morning walk in Vasquez Rocks County Park, which quite literally is straight out of a Western. Hollywood has used this location more than once to film its cowboy sagas. The rocks themselves look like the bows of great ships sinking into the surrounding sands. After crossing Highway 14, it was a short up and over to the beginning of the paved detour along Soledad Canyon Road. Not much adventure passing RV parks, KOA campgrounds and house after house in rural neighborhoods. I'm trying to hike as fast as I can to put this trail nightmare behind me. An overcast sky and intermittent showers of drizzling rain were actually rather welcome. I couldn't imagine being on this detour with the heat of a blazing sun radiating off the black asphalt. Once, while taking a snack break with the sky still spitting, I looked up at each passing car to discern the reaction in the faces of the drivers and passengers who saw me. For most of them it was a look of bewilderment as if there were a complete lack of understanding of why a person would be outside in such "horrible" weather. For others, I think I was an object of curiosity; something they'd never seen before in their locale. One car stopped and the driver asked what I was doing. When I explained to her about my trek and the reason for this detour, she immediately inquired if I had enough water and wanted to know if I needed any assistance. I assured her that I was quite all right, but thanked her for her concern. The afternoon walk on Aliso Canyon Road, Angeles Forest Highway and Mount Emma Road were thankfully more out in the country, but the views down to the valley on my right reminded me that I wasn't very far from urban America. The detour is a full forty seven miles, which meant for me that I wouldn't be able to walk it in one day. At the intersection of Mount Emma Road and Fort Tejon Road it started getting dark, so I started searching for a place to camp. I was back among an area of country estates and houses, so choices were limited. I eventually settled on a place right next to a fence that had a few small trees which would shield me from the passing lights from the road. A ranch house was set back on the far side of the property. The lights were off and it was dark all around. At least I wouldn't be disturbing anybody by my presence, or so I thought. At 11:30 that night I was awakened by headlights shining in my face followed by the question, "What the hell's going on here?" Half asleep, I tried to form a coherent answer, trying to persuade him that I was just some poor backpacker caught on an inconvenient detour, not some vagrant, and promising to be long gone by the time he got up in the morning. All I really wanted to do was to get back to my slumber. Fortunately, he and his wife allowed me to stay, but he warned me that if I tried to jump the fence, his dogs would tear me apart. I don't think I fully convinced him that I wasn't the criminal type, but it seemed funny to me that his dogs were so vicious when I hadn't heard a peep out of them the whole time I'd been bedded down there. As soon as they drove down to the house, my eyes closed once again sending me into a realm of unconsciousness.
37 Miles
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