7 of us camped in a tiny little open sloping area near a road. We
packed in like sardines and joked ourselves to sleep.
The next day started as more of the same. We stopped for a long lunch next to a perfect little creek. This creek seemed out of place. All around us, the land was one drought away from becoming a full-fledged desert. The creek was an oasis. Large green trees rustled in the breeze. Below them was a soft sandy beach. The cool water soothed our perpetually sore feet. I had picked up my guitar in Agua Dulce, so I had that as a distraction as well. Brightly colored western tanagers were dancing in the trees. It felt like a miniature Eden. It couldn't last though. Too soon it was time to climb up some more hot dusty hills. Toward evening, we were all running out of water. Nathan and I decided to go down a hill to a nearby campsite & creek to fill up and cook some dinner. The others decided to just keep going and hope there was some water at another creek farther down the trail. The climb down the hill went fine, but we decided to take a shortcut back to the PCT and wound up bushwhacking our way up a steep creek bed. It took a good hour to go half a mile. After that, Nathan and I only went a couple more miles and camped on a grassy ridge top.
We headed down the mountains and into a section of private land owned by
the Tejon Ranch. I'm not sure what the Tejon Ranch was worried about,
but they only allowed the PCT to be routed very inefficiently around the
perimeter of their property. It was really frustrating to hike twice
as far as we needed to just because of the fears and bullheadedness of
some silly corporate ranch. I did have a little excitement on this
section though, a rattlesnake almost fell on me. It was resting on
a ledge just above the trail. When I walked by, it got startled and
fell on the trail right near my feet. I jumped, but I think the snake
was more afraid than I was. I had walked by a bunch of rattlesnakes
already, but they were always in the bushes & out of view. This
was the first good view I had of a rattler in the open. Most of the
adult rattlesnakes in the area were about 3 feet long and 3 inches in diameter
at their thickest - sort of short and stocky. This one slithered
off the trail and buzzed its little tail off. Finally, we made it
down to the flat expanse of the Mojave, and after a couple more miles we
arrived at the home of Jack Fair.
Jack once ran a messenger service / bike gang (the shaggers), apparently
was in the navy at one point, did security for some hollywood stars, and
bred attack dogs. He probably did all kinds of other things too,
but we only had half a day to spend with Jack. He made damn sure
that everyone knew what he was talking about all the time. Jack demanded
and deserved your full attention and respect - It was just impossible to
make any kind of joke or sarcastic remark at his expense. He charged
people a dollar for a ride up to the local store, and a couple bucks to
sleep in his yard (although he later mentioned that you didn't have to
pay if you couldn't afford it). The ride was well worth the dollar
though - just for the conversation on the way to the store. Jack
had a number of hiker guests at his place, and we all had a great time.
We spent the night there and headed out early the next day.
We followed the LA aqueduct for about 10 miles, first as an open straight
river, 
and then as an underground pipe. We could hear millions of gallons
of fresh water flowing beneath us, but we couldn't get to it (except at
one location). Everyone I met in this section of California really
hated the aqueduct. One person told me, "I pee in it every chance I get".
Back in the early part of the century, the aqueduct got sabotaged so often
that guards had to be stationed every half a mile or so.
The trail dipped down to a stream where we camped for the night.
The next day, we were all anxious to get to our next stop - Tehachapi. We climbed up and around more dry dusty hills (until we got high enough, where trees came into the picture). After a good 15 miles, we got our first views of the windmills which fill the area east of Tehachapi.
There are some 10,000 windmills in the area. It's the largest wind
farm in the US and one of the largest in the world. I finally made
my way down to the road, where I hitchhiked the 17 miles or so into Tehachapi.
I walked to the PO and got reunited with some of my fellow hikers.
While I was taking care of business in the PO, I started talking to a local
man named Jack. Before long he offered to give me a ride back to
town. On the way, the ride to town turned into an invitation to come
stay at his house. Jack told me there were really two big "industries"
in Tehachapi - the wind farm and the prison. "I work in the prison", he
said. Before I had time to worry if he made license plates or something,
he assured me that he was a prison psychologist. His wife and family
were all Haitian, and before we went inside he taught me a few words of
creole which I attempted to repeat. I took a much needed shower (it
must have taken some degree of courage for Jack to invite me over - I was
pretty dirty and smelly), and met the family. Dinner was great, an
authentic Haitian pork and rice dish which almost put me in a quick contented
sleep. Afterwards, we all visited for a bit and they made up a bed
for me. Throughout my trip, I met so many people who went out of
their way to be kind to me. It really gave me a good deal of faith
in the state of our society. My stay at Jack's place was wonderful.
Soon afterwards, I resolved to try to live up to Jack's example whenever
I had the opportunity later in my life. There are so many people
who live their quiet lives alone and afraid. Thankfully, there are
also people like Jack who remind us how to be human.
We walked back up the post office and managed to get a ride from a nice lady with a big van. Her hobby (which was almost a business) was making silk flowers for art & craft shows. Her van was filled with boxes of them. She dropped us off at the trailhead. As soon as she pulled away, I realized that I had left my hiking poles in her van. A lot of people hike without poles, and I could too, but my hiking poles were also my tent poles - without them, I had no way to set up my tent. I could have kicked myself for being so stupid. Luckily, Jason had this lady's business card & phone number. There were a couple people getting into a car at the trailhead and I asked them for a ride back into town so I could try and get my poles back. Once I explained my situation to them, they offered to drive into town and find my poles for me. One of them, Lyle, said if he found them he'd drop them off at the next trailhead (about 10 miles ahead where the PCT crossed Hwy 58). So, I continued on after thanking Lyle and wishing him luck. The next 10 miles were almost entirely a landscape of windmills. We got close enough to the windmills to reach out and touch them (although there were signs all over warning us of dire consequences if we strayed 1 inch from the trail). After passing a group of day-hikers (who gave us some soft drinks), we made it to Hwy 58. Sure enough, my poles were just off the trail with a note attached to them. I lost Lyle's phone number, so I was never able to thank him. (So, if you know someone named Lyle, who lives in San Diego and is a member of the Sierra Club, let me know!)
