October 16th.
I got cruising early, making sure not to wake my hosts. The moon was full and bright. In fact, as I went down York Ranch Road, I would turn off my headlamp and just walk by the light of the moon.
Not too many interesting things to see. I came across a bunch of cattle penned up awaiting the arrival of the truck that would whisk them off to the feedlot and the grocery stores. Weird to think about your food this way.
I also refined my deeply religious thoughts concerning hell and gravel roads. Yes, I still believe there is a section in hell for people who speed past pedestrians on gravel roads. However, I developed a more sophisticated profile of its inhabitants. If they drove Denalis or new Suburbans, they were in hell because they NEVER slowed dlown. Also, if they were younger, they were in hell. (One sub-theme on this trip is how fast young people want to be… or how slow older folks want things to be) The most dangerous incident was a teenage girl with sunglasses and loud music coming towards me. She was driving a dually (4 tires on the rear axle) and the extra wide mirrors. She must’ve been going 60 and did not move over at all, her mirrors coming within inches of my shoulder. I hope I don’t see her in her little section.
If you’ve slogged through previous blog entries, you know that if I am heading in to town for resupply, I am a force to be reckoned with on the trail. I was making about 3 1/2 miles per hour. Perhaps even more motivating was the town name: Pie Town.
Pie Town is a random stop on the road. The idea was to set up a couple restaurants that sell pie and get people to stop. It worked. Not a big town, but a few restaurants and a lot of pie.
I ate my first lunch with two entrees and pie at the Gathering Place. It was Sunday so my Post Office package would have to wait. I went to stay at an unusual place called the Toaster House. It is open to any and all, free of charge. The name comes from the abandoned toasters serving as decorations on the front gate. There is hot water in the shower, running cold water from the taps, and two outhouses (including a two-seater, perhaps a tip-of-the-hat to the Romans). There are about 6 beds, a fridge and a stove. I met Tim, a Continental Divide biker from Seattle. There was another strange fellow there who didn’t talk and Tim warned me he was unstable. That dude stayed outside the whole time building and maintaining a substantial fire.
I napped and headed out for Lunch 2. Great conversation with the owners who run the Pie Town Cafe, open 4 days a week between 11 and 4. I was just finishing my pie when in walks Lucky Strike. It was great to see him. The trail had treated him well. Its like we had the opposite reactions to the trail: he was looking stronger, better, and younger while I was looking older, thinner, and haggard.
We spent the evening catching up on trail talk. John and Anzie Thomas came to visit for a spell. Later, Tim the biker came out and we talked for some time. Eventually, well past hiker midnight, we called it a night.
I did not sleep so well. The odd fellow would walk around in the dark, making the floors creak. Then he would put on a headlamp and walk around outside. Finally, around 3:30 he decided it was high time for a bath and spent an hour splashing around in the bathtub that was adjacent to my room. I did sleep off and on, but it was strange to be in this house.
backpacking over the hill 