Day 16 May 10
Dirt Road to Hwy 2 (Wrightwood)
High Tech and I guzzle a PBR before hiking out. Sweet precious liquid gold calories. I feel it course through my veins and buzz around in my head.
I bid Lily and Arno farewell then set off in a hot fury. It’s town day.
But I am fatigued, the previous day’s climb kicked my butt. My legs feel like lead weights and I am breathing like a fat ass on a treadmill.
Dazed and confused, I step off the trail to let a group of day hikers pass.
“Not a Chance?” asks the guy in front.
“I read your blog,” he says.
I never know what to say in this instance. Sometimes I want to apologize.
That question always follows. Carrot is the mother ship, the bees knees, Oz, the mutha fuckin grand finale, the buzz of the clitoris. She’s not far
behind. She’s the only other female I know doing bigger days.
Guthrie and I get a hitch into Wrightwood from a guy missing teeth.
His best friend is a rotund female pit bull named Daisy who constantly fiends for his approval. He drives wildly while pitching us racist propaganda.
My plan is to in and out Wrightwood but then Masshole and Dewey roll in; my favorite boys to get supremely shit housed with. So we take over The Raccoon and turn it into the hiker trashiest bar the Western Hemisphere has ever seen.