Upwards to Wrightwood

May 28-30

My pace had been increasing. I tend to think of hiking pace not on a per-hour basis, but as a daily range. I cannot hike much faster than 3 miles an hour. I could once, but I'm not 25 anymore. I can, however, hike all damn day without stopping. I call this style of hiking "inexorable." When a shoe company sponsors me, that's what I want the model of shoe to be called:
"You get a new pair of trail runners?"
"Oh yeah. Check out these Montrail Arno Inexorables."
They would be the best shoes, I promise.
Anyway, my range is creeping up -- 20, then 25 miles, now up to 30 miles a day. But too many big days in a  row can begin to cause all sports of hard-to-address issues for me (shin splints, plantar fasciitis, etc). Wrightwood, a cool mountain town, was coming up. I had a package at the post office there, and with the Memorial Day weekend, I couldn't pick it up until Tuesday.
So for many reasons, I decided to take a zero-mile day in Wrightwood. Of the hike up from Cajon pass to here, there is not too much to tell. It is a long, long ascent, starting right on the San Andreas fault amongst giant rock outcroppings and ending in another sky island, this time the Angeles Crest, along Highway 2. Lots of day hikers were out for the Memorial Day holiday. Pretty cool to see so much diversity -- lots of brown people in the woods. Very exciting! These are our national mountains, and for too long it has seemed to me that only white people like myself were enjoying them. The report from the mountains on this weekend is that we are ALL out here right now.

Rock outcroppings along the San Adreas fault above Cajon Pass

I hiked up, then hiked down along the Acorn Trail into town, had a burger and beer at the Yodeler. Stayed at a "Bed and Breakfast," which was both very cool and very odd. They picked me up in an old Ford Contour without any plates -- very auspicious. Turned out to be a house right outside town with over a dozen hikers, all of whom had eaten at the free cookout they'd had. I was directed to a bedroom but forbidden to sleep on the bed itself. can't really blame them, the way I smell(ed). And that's what the sleeping pad is for. 

Next day, I hiked another few miles on the trail, then met Lily. Today I am... well, so far I am writing blog posts. Tomorrow is Mt. Baden-Powell, a tribute to the founder of the Boy Scouts, and then ever onwards. Next stop: Agua Dulce and the Saufley's Hiker Heaven. I sent myself some new shoes and socks there, a very significant carrot.