Day 9: Idyllwild

Miles: Zero

Nature calls in the early morning, and it’s the first time I step out of my tent in the middle of the night.

The dark sky is lit with stars, as is someone brought in Bob Ross just for the 3:00 AM bathroom break. Absolutely beautiful.

I blow some air into my mat. I’m not sure what I’m doing, but this sleeping mat definitely deflated while I was asleep.

The sun shines brightly now. I’ve just awoken only to roll around like a rotisserie chicken, trying to go back to sleep (my mat was still firm, thankfully).

I join a chaotic FaceTime call with my mom (Happy Mother’s Day!), in which the kids decided to take out all of their dresser drawers and lay them on the floor like a rug, my brother delivers flowers to my mom, my toddler nephew is in the shower after a messy pull-up, and my niece shows me her new stickers before she tries to chase the kitten to “do his hair.”

We pack bags and cross the road for a hitch. It takes us longer than I expect. After seeing a successful couple of hikers grab a ride, we meander over to their spot. There are already hikers there before us, so when the next kind driver comes to collect hikers, we tell the people there first to hop in. Denis joins them.

Thumb up, smile, and wave. Most cars were turning left when we need them to go straight toward Idyllwild.

After waiting outside in the sun for about twenty minutes, a driver pulls over. He can only take us about ten or fifteen minutes, which puts us a few miles outside of town.

Rudolph is a kind, middle-aged man who grew up in Hawaii. He’s a chatty guy driving his wife’s car, and we’re grateful for the ride after the moments of patient waiting for a hitch.

We’re dropped off at a cafe, and Dad and Rafiki pause to chat with an older couple. I spend some time with my thumb up. Only when they finish their conversation and we’re standing around for a few minutes does a young guy grab us. When he pops his trunk, Dad immediately knows he’s an ultra runner. This guy’s car is filled with equipment! We shove our bags in and hop in the car, trying to avoid stepping on any of his equipment. Our driver is really intrigued about the PCT, so Dad tells him the relevant places for a runner. This guy is even on his way for a long run today!

When we get dropped off, Dad shouts “Thomas!”

I didn’t even recognize him! He finishes his conversation with the people across the street before walking over to us with a fist bump.

We all grab a table at The Red Kettle. Dad drops his bag off at Idyllwild Inn, where we’ll be staying.

Once our table is ready, we order coffees — Rafiki got a chocolate milk — and some food. Denis joins us here, and later, the Netherlands gentleman from Mom’s Pie joins us as well!

“Hey, Thomas,” I say quietly, “My dad and Rafiki have both asked why I haven’t spoken French with you yet. Would you be up for some practice?”

“Oh, yeah! I’ll help with you French!” he says enthusiastically. Thomas is a pretty expressive person in general. Being around people who speak your language is quite exciting. For me, that is French people since I do, after all, have quite an extensive education in the language (albeit rusty).

After a hard couple of days, being around a table full of hikers is really nice. It just feels so rewarding, special.

We drop our bags at our inn, which is really a little cabin about a hundred feet from the office of Idyllwild Inn. Our hostess is an older lady with a ‘mama’ feel, who calls you ‘honey,’ and ‘sweet girl.’ She’s blonde and has glittery eye shadow and is incredibly helpful.

We move on to a store called Nomad Ventures, where Lynne helps me find a pair of shoes by directing me through about eight pair of shoes — crazy, I know. But I end up buying some after all! Dad and I get new gas cans, too.

Lisa, our helpful hostess, gave me a card to contact trail angels. Grumpy is his name. I call and ask for assistance with a ride and someone to ship out a box for me — it’s Sunday.

Not my strongest conversation, I know, but I was trying to walk to the store and get information at the same time.

“I don’t do that anymore,” Grumpy says gruffly. “Did you look up the website on the bottom of the card?”

Squished at the very bottom of the card, under my thumb, is a website.

“Talk to the gals. They’re more helpful,” Grumpy says.

I flip the card around and see a photo of a grumpy dwarf from Snow White on the back.

Great. How am I going to get this stuff shipped out tomorrow? We surely can’t leave town at 9:30 AM just to ship a box. Right?

Time for shopping. This is a place where I feel absolutely lost. I’m absolutely stressing. They don’t really have much of what I want, so I end up wandering the isles endlessly until I finally settle on some not-so-appealing protein bars. I think I may be intolerant to peanuts, but hopefully these snack bars treat me well.

Now back at the cabin, which includes Dad, myself, Rafiki, Denis, and a last minute addition — Thomas.

Even though Dad told me it’s no big deal, I’m still stressed over the fact that I need to ship a box back home. I don’t want to carry anything extra, but I also don’t want to donate my things.

I look up the website for Grumpy’s help and scroll endlessly until I find trail angels. I choose Rochelle, a woman who is available most days. She answers immediately and I explain my situation, a bit more tactfully than how I did with Grumpy.

“Let me call you back in just three or four minutes. I’m helping a customer,” she says. Rochelle sounds like the type of woman who is quick, efficient, and knows how to get a job done.

Not five minutes later and she calls. We organize a ride for 7:00 AM, which I had to look up breakfast spots prior to the call, and then I ask about shipping my box.

“Do you know who might be able to assist here?” I ask.

“You’re talking to her,” Rochelle says.

I almost drop to my knees in relief. Thank goodness! I text her the details and move on with my day. After organizing my food, I blog for a while before going back to Nomad Ventures for a pair of sunglasses.

I run into Cecile, one of the hikers from our first day. The lady who works at the store is excited to talk with Thomas about a trail from his neck of the woods that she absolutely loved!

I scrape up the courage to chat French with Thomas. It’s basic, it’s rusty, but it’s there. I get so shy to talk in French in front of an audience!

We get back to the cabin and I show Rafiki my new glasses.

“Did you speak French with Thomas yet?” he asks loudly.

“I did, thank you very much!” I say.

“Yes, we did speak French,” Thomas seconds.

I’m glad I chatted in French with him when I did.

Something I’ve been looking forward to finally came into fruition: I know it’s strange, but it’s also instant gratification.

Rafiki shaved his legs.

Body hair doesn’t hold sunscreen well and but holds on to dirt. Rafiki spent almost two hours trying to manage this, his only tools: four razors and some shaving cream. I gave him some leg-shaving tips — which he broke the rules and almost fell in the shower — but now his legs are completely smooth.

After a chat with Magra, I finish yesterday’s blog post and we head off to dinner at Idyllwild Brew Pub. Dad and I split a salad and pulled pork sandwich.

We stare at the trees, which remind me of South Lake Tahoe in both sight and smell, and soon we’re back at the inn to pack bags as much as we can and into bed before tomorrow.