June 2
I made brekkies, coffee (Thanks Derrick of Ohm Coffee, the Full Stack hit the spot), and set my sights on that day's goal: The Saufleys, aka Hiker Heaven
Donna and Jeff Saufley -- mostly Donna, although Jeff is a prince anong men -- are the original miraculous trail angels of the PCT. They have opened their home in Agua Dulce to hikers for years, doing laundry, offering shade and giving rides to REI. I don't know how many years, but I do know they were here in 2002 when I hiked the PCT through California, and they were here in 2008 when I finally did the whole thing. They have, as I have, watched this pastime morph from a fringe pursuit for total wackos (2002) to an enthusiast's game (2008) to the domestic equivalent of taking Eurrail through the Continent the year after graduating from college (yeah, that's what it feels like in 2016).
Donna has responded by getting very, very efficient at providing hikers with the necessities. You walk in to be processed like a recruit in an old Army film: you sign in, are handed spare clothes to wear while she washes yours, given a tour of sleeping quarters. All is done with such gracious kindness that the rigor does not chafe. If I had an army, I would choose Donna as my general.
I made brekkies, coffee (Thanks Derrick of Ohm Coffee, the Full Stack hit the spot), and set my sights on that day's goal: The Saufleys, aka Hiker Heaven
Donna and Jeff Saufley -- mostly Donna, although Jeff is a prince anong men -- are the original miraculous trail angels of the PCT. They have opened their home in Agua Dulce to hikers for years, doing laundry, offering shade and giving rides to REI. I don't know how many years, but I do know they were here in 2002 when I hiked the PCT through California, and they were here in 2008 when I finally did the whole thing. They have, as I have, watched this pastime morph from a fringe pursuit for total wackos (2002) to an enthusiast's game (2008) to the domestic equivalent of taking Eurrail through the Continent the year after graduating from college (yeah, that's what it feels like in 2016).
Donna has responded by getting very, very efficient at providing hikers with the necessities. You walk in to be processed like a recruit in an old Army film: you sign in, are handed spare clothes to wear while she washes yours, given a tour of sleeping quarters. All is done with such gracious kindness that the rigor does not chafe. If I had an army, I would choose Donna as my general.
I came in with laundry already done, having stopped at a KOA along the way and showered, done clothes, and dipped in the pool. (As an aside -- there were dozens of hikers lounging there, some of whom had been at the KOA for days. Many were discussing possible hitching alternates to the hike ahead. Hike Your Own Hike, but also: These kids got no rigor.)
With laundry done, I just hugged Donna when I got in. She didn't recognize me, but I cannot fault her for that, I look like the other 2000 visitors she has hosted this year. I laid out my bedroll, got water and hung out with some of the dozens of hikers lounging around. It was a very hiker scene: There were hikers passed out in front of a TV showing Archer on endless loop in the bunkhouse, which bunkhouse smelled of caged animal and drunken youth. Hikers making clumsy passes at each other on the porch, your tent or mine? A hiker playing his GODDAMN UKELELE in the garage. Hikers butting their cigarettes on her lawn and leaving the butts there. Donna's (and Jeff's) tolerance and generosity are as vast as the sea.
With laundry done, I just hugged Donna when I got in. She didn't recognize me, but I cannot fault her for that, I look like the other 2000 visitors she has hosted this year. I laid out my bedroll, got water and hung out with some of the dozens of hikers lounging around. It was a very hiker scene: There were hikers passed out in front of a TV showing Archer on endless loop in the bunkhouse, which bunkhouse smelled of caged animal and drunken youth. Hikers making clumsy passes at each other on the porch, your tent or mine? A hiker playing his GODDAMN UKELELE in the garage. Hikers butting their cigarettes on her lawn and leaving the butts there. Donna's (and Jeff's) tolerance and generosity are as vast as the sea.
And it's a good thing she's possessed of military efficiency, I thought. Her home has been effectively been occupied by an army of highly undisciplined infantry.
I so regret not having walked the PCT in the late 80's or 90's when I started backpacking in the Sierras. I've followed a lot of blogs over the past few years to get a sense of the actual vs the dream, and the Contiki Tour atmosphere sounds about right (and sadly, not appealing!).
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