We’re up early but Caleb is not in a rush. We break down camp as we know it will be easier to sleep by the general store tonight than trying to bring people up to our site to hang out and delivering them back to their beds; especially when I’m going to sleep before them. We leave our packs behind as I’ve guessed Rachel is only six miles away and bring a liter of water each.

The road walk is one mile and then we’re headed south through a verdant and expansive landscape. We follow the Kern River as it winds through the valley at varying distances from the trail; our footsteps are the only ones in this direction. After three miles I figured out my mistake (that Rachel must be twice as far) and we turned around because we hadn’t eaten yet and were already low on water.

We eat and someone notices Rachel. As is tradition here, one person rings the cowbell and the rest of us clap in acknowledgment that the hiker has survived the desert. She is surprised Trailer Park didn’t pass her last night, as she was camped ten miles away. We wait for his arrival before driving over to Grumpy Bears so they can check it out. Back at the General Store, Matthew, who used to hike with Yogi and helped with her trail guide, will talk our ear off through the afternoon.

Matthew makes me think his adventures were in the 80s, but he’d have only been ten years old. His intentions are good, and he wants to do more for hikers, but he is currently waiting a few years for the retirement funds to do so. Sew Job and TeaTime arrived when no one was looking. Umi gets the most claps and is followed in by Ben, Trail Daddy, and Beacon. We drive back over to Grumpy Bears for dinner.

We are joined by White Trash, Valentin, Trailer Park, and Zumi (Umi’s new trail name) who sweats while struggling to balance eating jalapeños on his triple-patty burger in the sun. We move the table around the patio but the closer that large star gets to the horizon, it just continues to chase our faces with its fiery gaze. When the shuttle arrives, we all return to the shady deck filled with other hikers and buckets of beer.

Zumi showed us pictures of his late night in Ridgecrest where some trail angels took him in, fed him, then took him back to the desert to shoot a handgun (9mm) and rifle (.22), the machine gun being too scary for his first time. All the other hikers wanted the same experience but they knew that even though Americans have a thing for accents, they have a special place in their hearts for Japanese hikers.

Rachel will cement her new name, Polish, by applying two coats of purple or blue to at least 15 hikers before sunset. It is so much fun to witness a guy’s first time having his nails painted as they act more dainty in hopes of not damaging the color. It’s too bad the dirty nail tips are the first to be exposed as having them covered makes one feel just a little bit cleaner, but that’s not the hiker trash way. Caleb is up at least an hour and a half later than me talking about baguettes.