Claire Henley
(Editor's Note: Chattanoogan Claire Henley started an adventure of a lifetime on the remote Pacific Crest Trail in April. Along the way, she had many adventures and found herself a husband named Big -Spoon).
“Let no feeling of discouragement prey upon you, and in the end you are sure to succeed.”
-Abraham Lincoln
The next day, on the long scorching hike through yellow meadows to the micro-town of Warner Springs, I fantasized about a big juicy burger and cold carbonated coke. I was sure these luxuries were close as I neared civilization. After three days of walking in the parched desert wilderness, I was so sure.
Thus, my fantasy melted like unlicked ice cream when I entered the ghost town of tumble-weed and learned that everything except the post office was closed.
Historically, Warner Springs had never offered much in terms of hiker refreshments; but it had recently been known to provide a Resource Center, run by two elderly ladies, that sold trail-renowned burgers to hungry hikers. The proceeds from the $5.00 burgers went to the underprivileged families of the Warner Springs community. So it came as a blow–to both the hikers and the town–when the County of San Diego dropped by for a little health inspection (due to all the dirty hikers) and stripped the Resource Center of their permit to sell food.
The Warner Springs shutdown occurred the day before I made it to the town. The good news was hikers could still pitch their tents outside the Resource Center beneath the big oak tree to sleep. The center looked like a colorful tent city when I arrived in the afternoon after picking up my resupply box from the post office (filled with food and maps for the next stretch to Idyllwild). The showers were open and hikers washed up in an outdoor wooden shack. Then we rinsed our sweaty clothes with the hose and hung them to dry on the surrounding fence.
I was grateful for these amenities, but I still hungered for that burger. Furthermore, after several days of solitude on the trail, accompanied here and there by only a few, it felt strange–overwhelming–to be around so many people again. As the sun began to set over the mountains in the distance, I squeezed out from the mass of hikers and sat alone on the asphalt parking lot. I called my mom and dad.
“I believe in you and what you’re doing,” they both told me, words as good as a homemade meal.
The next morning, the local news showed up to interview hikers about the Resource Center losing their food license. We gave our side of the story, which was that we relied on and looked forward to the fresh town food, just as the community relied on the money we hikers brought in. Then the news crew left, and as if on cue, a man with a long gray beard pulled up in a pickup truck and brought out several apple pies he bought from a nearby bakery in Julian. Everyone swarmed around the picnic table where the man dished out the thick steaming slices.
And though it wasn’t a burger, our spirits soared over pie.
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Claire's first book on her adventures while living in Colorado can be ordered here:
http://www.amazon.com/51-Weeks-The-Unfinished-Journey-ebook/dp/B00IWYDLBQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1394801373&sr=8-1&keywords=51+Weeks
Clothes line