"The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray." Obviously the day didn't quite go the way I had envisioned. I had originally planned to hitch a ride into Tehachapi when I arrived at Highway 58, but when I got there, the big NO PEDESTRIANS ALLOWED ON HIGHWAY sign discouraged me from taking that route. Time for Plan B. I'd hike the eight miles up and over the hill through the wind farm to Tehachapi Willow Springs Road where I hoped there would be enough local traffic to stand a pretty good chance of getting a lift into town. Standing there on the side of the road, I began to realize I had miscalculated. There were plenty of passing cars, but no drivers friendly or brave enough to stop for a scruffy looking nomad. With no other options, I set off on foot, walking along the shoulder of the road towards town. After a couple of hours pounding the pavement, my luck changed when an attractive wildlife biologist pulled over in her jeep and offered me a ride. From what I could gather from talking to her, she specializes in birds and works in the surrounding hills surveying and reporting for an environmental company. Once in town, she was nice enough to wait for me while I picked up the envelope which contained the maps for the next section, then she ferried me over to Albertson's supermarket. Before she left, she gave me directions on how to get back out of town. She truly went above and beyond to try and help me out. What separates people like her from all the many others that just zoomed past me this morning? A bigger heart? A braver nature? More compassion? A greater affinity for hiker trash? Hard to put a finger on it. Kennedy Meadows was my last mail resupply. All the other resupply stops in California will be at stores in trail towns. When I walked through the doors, it was readily apparent that this was no local market. This seemed to put the SUPER in supermarket. I was overwhelmed by the variety of foods on offer, the mouth-watering aromas emanating from the bakery/deli section, and the rainbow of color in the fruit and vegetable section. As a famished thru-hiker, I was about to lose control. I had to get out of there as soon as possible to avoid going on an extravagant spending spree. As it was, I went a little overboard, so that all the food had my pack a-bulging. After observing the customary ice cream ritual (1.5 quarts of Rocky Road), I went next door to Big 5 to get some new socks. When I slipped on a pair, all five toes cried out with glee. Something soft without all the abrasive trail dust. With a heavy load of food and water, I walked to the outskirts of town looking for a ride back to the trail; a ride, as it turns out, that I would never get. While I was hitching, I couldn't even get the passing drivers to make eye contact, except for the one guy who flipped me off, which strangely enough didn't bother me as much as the other passing drivers, because at least through his actions, he acknowledged my existence. Resigned to my fate, I covered the ten-mile stretch of road back to the trail under my own power, my faith in the kindness of humanity shaken. Less than fifteen minutes into the walk up Oak Creek Canyon, I found a small cache of water for Sobos near a picnic table. Faith restored, my anger began to subside. Due to the heat of the day, the clouds began to build in the late afternoon and by the evening there was thunder and lightning, but what rain I saw was off in the distant hills and never reached me. The cooling of the gentle breeze felt very pleasant. Three weeks to go!
15 Miles on the PCT and another 15 Road Walking to and from Tehachapi
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