"Ben, what are you doing here?" Asked the man, I focused my eyes, squinting from across the road. It was my friend Felix Navarrete from Cal State Long Beach. Felix and I both worked for the Alliance to Save Energy while we were in college, and met at conferences across the state every six months. We were both being geared towards working at the environmental career level right out of college, and the humor of the fact that was that we were both in Etna, under these conditions, and it probably both crossed our minds, like "what happened to us? Don't you have a job or something". Felix was working for the American Conservation Experience (ACE), under the Civilian Conservation Corps (http://usaconservation.org/) doing trail maintenance on and around the PCT. The ACE workers get to spend months at a time working outside, sleeping outside, and putting their effort to good use. I applied to ACE right after college and got offered a job but turned it down to start what I thought was my career. It seems to have come full circle in a way...Felix had to go, and I hobbled back to the Alderbrooke Manor.
When I was picked up in Dunsmuir, CA, Ben and Jessica Gerber (refer to the entry "The Magic at Dunsmuir") they told me that if I needed anything from them while I was within an hours drive, they would pick me up, so thats what I did. I left a message telling them that my shin splint had gotten really bad, and in my voicemail, I sounded frazzled due to the morning's events, and asked them if they could once again, host me. A couple hours later, Ben called me and told me he could pick me up. I wanted to tell him all about the fire right away, but hesitated. I told a bunch of hikers that I was going to take a few days off and that I would hopefully see them all later. Within an hour, Ben arrived in a black truck and as we drove, we passed by the smoldering pile of rubble that was the victorian home, and returned to Dunsmuir, CA. I stayed off my feet two days as I rested in a real bed, ate non-dehydrated food, and watched a few movies with Rosie the Bloodhound at my feet. This was paradise for a hiker, and it was funny to have been in their home for a second time.
My leg was feeling great. I iced it, elevated it, and compressed it. All the proper moves and motions. I was able to walk with absolutely no pain! I thought to myself that maybe there was no fracture. Maybe it was just a really bad shin splint? Hopeful, on the second day, I rode into the city of Mount Shasta, CA with Ben as he went to work. I had some groceries to purchase and with a few hours to kill, so I strolled around the city. Mount Shasta is a funny place. If you have been there, you would think there was a Rainbow Gathering in town due to all of the transients there. While I roamed the small town, I invented a game to keep myself busy. I called it "Hikers, Homeless, or Hobos". The goal of this simple game is to identify whether or not someone is either a hiker, homeless, or a hobo. Since all three of these categories of people look disheveled, carry backpacks, and are hanging out on the street you have to look at the finer details make the right judgement call. If they have a dog with them, they are probably hobos. If they are missing teeth, probably homeless. If they have incredibly huge backpacks, they are probably not hikers (hikers have surprisingly small backpacks), but you would be surprised to see how closely we all look alike, and smell alike for that matter. This kept me busy for a while. And yes, there actually was a Rainbow Gathering in town, go figure. And if your curious about why Mount Shasta attracts such characters, just quickly glance over this: http://www.lemurianconnection.com/category/about-mt-shasta/
Just as I was about to get a ride back to the house with Ben Gerber, my stomach started to churn a little bit. I met up with him outside of the outfitter store he worked at (The 5th Season, Outdoor Equipment), and asked if I could use the bathroom. Remember when I had that "apocalyptic gas" before the fire? Well, it was back, or something like it. I ran into the store, and Ben asked me if I thought it might be girardia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giardia) and I thought it was just hiker indigestion. Boy was I wrong... I came out of the bathroom about 10 minutes later, and Ben was sitting on the shoe bench just looking at me with an expression of "wow, that sounded intense, and yeah, you probably do have giardia".
I was in denial of it pretty quickly. Getting giardia for a hiker is like loosing a game of hoops on your home court. Its embarrassing, and means your out of the game of hiking for a while if its really bad. We jumped in the car and the ride took only ten minutes, but my stomach was already in a rush to make it to their bathroom. This was bad news. I didn't want to take more time off the trail but it might have been necessary. Shin splint matched with giardia, could it get worse? I used the bathroom at least 5 more times that night until my system was completely empty. At least I wasnt throwing up (looking at the bright side of things right?). Ben said I should go to the clinic tomorrow at get meds before I could go back to the trail. Ben and Jessica wanted me to be as comfortable as possible, to stay as long as I needed. They were hikers a few years ago so they knew the routine. They wanted to provide and give back as much as possible from all that they received. I felt unconditional love from them, and I thought it was incredibly special to see them for a second time, considering I was a stranger at one point. The next morning, Jessica took me to the hospital, where she worked as a nurse, was able to get me in quickly and set me up with her favorite doctor. They were going to take a stool sample and maybe even a blood test but I just looked at the doctor and said "Look dude, if it barks like a dog, looks like a dog, and smells like a dog, its a dog right?" He got the point and said "yeah your right, i'll just write you a prescription". "SCORE" I thought, because the idea of getting a stool sample in the condition that I was in just seemed like a messy waste of time. We picked up my prescription and Jessica offered me to stay another night but the trail called for me and my leg was feeling no pain what so ever. We drove an hour back to Etna, where we passed the burned home, and I eerily walked back up to Alderbrooke Manor, and visited the hikers who were still around. I thanked Jessica a hundred times for everything they had done for me on my first and second visit to Dunsmuir. They were real angels, true spirits in this world. If there were more people like them, the world would be a better place. I aspire to have that level of kindness and generosity in my heart. I know I will see them again someday.
Did I mention that the house in Etna that burned down, was a meth lab?
More on that in the next post.
~King Street
Unbelievable....!! deb
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