Caleb is struggling with what we thought the trail would be versus the reality we are facing. Trail angels are heading north, as apparently is our water supply, leaving the county to lock access behind them. The first two weeks should ease hikers into the experience but we are being forced to carry more water (which slows us down)  further just to pick up more weight and carry on.

We arrive at the end of each day dirty and exhausted without the water suggested we use to wash our feet. Forget about reading, others aren’t finding time to journal either, but I take notes when I can – while cooking, eating, and stretching. We discussed our options and went to breakfast after some coffee on the porch. The dining room doors open at 8am and service is old-fashioned and fancy.

We are served homemade granola with apple juice as our first breakfast. If the kitchen has leftover granola guests can buy some to take home. The second course is served and we are joined by Rachel. We let her know we were catching the bus to San Diego for a zero-day. Gert joins us ten minutes later, in time for us to wish them luck on their first evening hike to escape the heat and need for so much water.

We pass Mom’s Pie House on the way to the bus stop that will take us to El Cajon, and they’re open, so we stop in for a free slice of pie and a drink (for PCT hikers with permits) to go. We signed the hiker log after Rachel’s entry yesterday and waited with Denver on the curb until we were shooed off by the driver upon her arrival. Sixteen dollars later and we are on our way.

The driver tells one of her regulars that she got her lips done and hopes she didn’t overdo it because she doesn’t want to look like a blow-up doll. She will chat with us about her Army son and Air Force daughter and how she now does her own nails and eyebrows to save money. We stopped at a general store in the middle of our journey where they sell chocolate lemon pistachio cookies that we left untried.

The woman who (reminds us of Yzma from The Emperor’s New Groove) we dropped off has rejoined us via a short walk. Once on the trolley, for $5, to Old Town, we will eat our pie. We part ways at 11am with Denver, who might return to the trail (I definitely encourage her to do so) but is over the blisters covering her feet. After lunch, we get an early check-in to wash trail evidence away before our flight tomorrow.

Quarters and a key from the front desk are needed. When I return after the first wash for more coins, the woman says eww when I tell her my clothes are still dirty. This is the introduction to trail life. One hiker trash reference is to the outfits’ ability to add weight as parts of the path cling to every knit. We are spoiled to soak off the grime that has quickly become our new skin tone. It’s hard to fall asleep after a three-mile day.