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The sun was about to reveal the stealth camp behind a small tree on private desert property at 5:00 am; therefore, I packed up and walked to the highway by 5:30 am. While waiting till 8:00 am, when the rural county bus was scheduled to arrive, I made use of the time writing and watching the sun begin its daily routine of toasting the land.
I stopped by a small motel to check rates, and it was an expensive $60.00/night. The motel only had 4 units, and the rest of the propery seemed to cater to RVs. I used the pay phone to call the resort in Warner Springs, and they had special hiker rates: $45.00 weekday specials and more on weekends and holidays. This whole area was turning out to be expensive even though it was barren.
Arriving at Christmas Circle at the other edge of Borrego Springs, I met a man who didn't seem to know how to read the arrival times on the pole. He said he stayed at a motel in Ramona, a town on the rural bus route, for $25.00/night years ago. I thought, "Hmmm, maybe I should check it out."
I probably should have stopped the conversation with the man at that point. I looked at the arrival and destination times again, it was clear to me the bus arrived at 8:00 am, the same time stated by the woman at Junior's restaurant yesterday night. The rural county bus, which only came once a day to head towards El Cajon, would then arrive in Ramona at 10:00 am, but the man said the bus arrived at Christmas Circle at 10:00 am. Rather than waiting another 2 hours, I decided to hitchhike to Ramona.
Immediately, I was picked up by the first vehicle driven by Jerry. Just as we pulled onto the road, the rural bus approached. Jerry was a military veteran who now worked locally in the desert for the government. Originally, he was only going to drop me off where he was turning, but decided to give me a ride all the way to Juliann, the same town I purchased groceries a few days ago. I seemed to get along well with people, which probably helped this situation.
We had a good time during the 25 minute trip chatting about the military, life in Borrego Springs, his spouse, immigration, and childhood. Some of the landscape was charred by the forest fire last year, which Jerry revealed was determined to be caused by a National Guard helicopter flying too low.
Discussing the fire brought up an interesting childhood story from Jerry, "When I was a kid, a friend and I were playing with matches and ended up torching a tree farm." The next day as Jerry was in the living room with his parents, his father was visibly upset reading about the fire in the newspaper and vowed, "I can't believe this! If I ever find this person, I'm going to kill 'im!" Jerry never confessed to his father.
The childhood disaster was not funny of course, but reflecting back and Jerry's emphasis on his father's anger made the short story very entertaining. As he dropped me off in Juliann, I asked, "Have you told your wife about the incident?" He replied, "No." We both laughed as I thanked him and parted ways.
I stopped at the grocery store to purchase a $3.19 orange juice because my body needed all the vitamins since it's been beaten to death for the past week; however, it'll need more than half a gallon to fix.
The pain in the right ankle was brutally painful as I walked to the edge of town along the highway. Before attempting a hitch into Ramona, I drank the orange juice and ate a hamburger. I had no desire to walk with so much agony. It appeared as though the tendons around the ankle were stretched beyond their limits.
Gary picked me up in his white Ford truck a few minutes after the rural bus passed. (Had I known the bus' route, I could have caught it in Juliann.) When he mentioned his wife was Japanese, I was a little surprised and rationalized he may have given me a ride because I was Asian-American. His son and daughter lived in the surrounding areas, and Gary was visiting his son today. Gary admitted he owns 8 properties in the area; therefore, he was well off.
Gary pointed to a 1,000,000+ chicken ranch and a world famous bakery along Highway 79. Many motorcyclists and bikers drove the scenic route between Juliann and Ramona. We passed the rural bus as it stopped in a small town between Juliann and Ramona. I knew if things didn't work out in Ramona, I would wish I was on that bus.
There was only one motel in Ramona, and they charged $63.00/night, the most expensive yet. I really should not have heed attention to the guy at the bus stop in Borrego Springs, but he was only trying to help. If I had taken the bus, I would have not met Jerry and Gary- those were the tradeoffs. Quickly leaving the motel office, I rushed towards the bus stop somewhere in the middle of town, but the effort was futile: the bus passed as I walked a block. Now I was stuck either walking on sore legs or hitchhiking because I couldn't afford to stay at the expensive motel.
What next? There was a sinking feeling in my soul as though getting off the trail was a terrible idea. The desert trail was home, but now I was lost and drowning in the sea of civilization. I longed for the comforts and solitude of the PCT as I headed towards the edge of town, which looked quite a long ways, to plan the next step. More like, planning as something came to my mind. I encountered a pay phone and decided to call Greyhound's toll free number and check on prices to Las Vegas, Nevada. If the tickets weren't expensive, I could go there and stay at a fairly cheap downtown motel which has the same rates 7 days a week, that is, no higher prices on weekends and holidays.
From El Cajon, one way trip to Las Vegas was $41.00 and round trip was $47.00. I wasn't 100% certain I was returning to the trail if I went to Las Vegas, but for $6.00 it would be cheap insurance if I decided to return. The next bus leaves at 2:00 pm, another 2+ hours, and I just needed to travel about 30 miles. There was no doubt, Las Vegas was my next destination! (There was another schedule departure later in the day if I missed the 2:00 pm bus.)
For a town with only one motel, Ramona was much larger than expected. It took about an hour to reach the very edge of the city, and another 30 minutes in the scalding sun to catch a ride from Conrad. Conrad, a synthetic chemist for a chemical firm founded by the man who discovered the vaccine for polio, was headed to work about 6 miles up the road in his white Toyota Thundra.
Conrad was one of the most educated person I've met on the trail. (That's not to say people who do not have college educations are not smart or people who only have bachelor's degree are not as smart.) He's wanted to be a chemist since 13 years old and now holds a PHd and has instructed at universities. One of the 2 projects he was currently working was preventing brain damage by using a particular insect's fluids.
From the turnoff, it was another 20 miles to El Cajon. It was probably more difficult to hitchhike here since it was now a 2-lane highway, and I didn't expect anyone driving in the fast lane to make an effort to stop. Two young middle-age guys drove by and the passenger stuck his arm out the window and shook his thumb and made some idiotic noises as though to mock my hitchhiking efforts. I wonder what the mentality level of someone like that must be.
Freddie stopped in an old Ford Tempo after 30 minutes of hitching. He was once a manager for VA Linux (no longer in business) and now retired. Freddie could have been wealthy had he sold his shares of the company during the internet boom of the late 1990's and early 2000's. (I remember VA Linux shooting up to $200.00/share practically overnight!) Nowadays, he's still doing well and was currently building a 2 bedroom/2 bathroom house in the San Diego area.
While driving, Freddie received an expected cell phone call. It's dangerous enough to talk on the cell phone during driving, but I really worried when he reached for a pen and pad with his free hand. One hand holding the cell phone, one hand with a pen and pad- too bad he didn't have a third hand for the steering wheel, which of course resulted in swerving. He came to his senses and pulled to the side of the freeway for 5 minutes to finish the call.
The call related to an appointment with an institute where Freddie had a kidney transplant. The kidney was donated by his son, which he considered a very nice present. "Stressed caused my kidney failures. Managing a large group of people and having deadlines will do it to you."
Freddie was nice enough to drive directly to the El Cajon Transit Center, where the Greyhound bus dropped me off over a week ago. Finally, I've come full circles. Freddie wished me luck, and I wished him luck on his new home. I didn't admit to Freddie I had UNIX programming skills, but rather played down my job experiences as computer support, like I tell most people.
Since it was already past 1:00 pm, I hurried to the ticket counter and purchased the roundtrip tickets. The woman was quite surprised I was 30-something when she checked my id. After the purchase, I was now sure of leaving the trail until next Tuesday evening, the return time. Now I was forming somewhat of a plan.
Kevin had mentioned he was robbed during his sleep on a bus from Tennessee to New Orleans, Lousiana; therefore, I was conscientious of the adjacent passengers and how I stored my wallet.
From El Cajon, the bus travelled a short distance to San Diego for a quick layover. At the San Diego terminal, I stared myself in the mirror for the first time in over a week. The person in the mirror was a complete stranger: I was totally shocked not to recognize myself as though this was a trick circus mirror. The difference between the person I expected and the person I saw was like bread and toast. The image was completely charred and dead skin was peeling off the nose, ear, and neck. The shoulder area was almost black from constant sun exposure. "Could this really be me? Who else could it be, I'm the only one standing in front of the mirror." I didn't like this burnt stranger in the mirror. An umbrella was now absolutely necessary for the trail!
The San Bernadino terminal was small, but the driver informed us it was the 10th busiest Greyhound terminal in the nation. Because of it's small size and the number of passengers coming through, I expected a very sickly restroom, and I was quite correct. While waiting for the final transfer to Las Vegas, I ate the last hamburger from Junior's for lunch.
With one break stop, the bus arrived in downtown Las Vegas a few minutes after midnight. I made a bee line directly to the $22.00 motel I had stayed many times across from the El Cortez casino. Unfortunately, I was only able to stay tonight because the motel was booked for the Memorial Day weekend. I had no idea it was a holiday weekend, and also, I thought this motel didn't take reservations, but apparently I was wrong; however, I would worry about it tomorrow.
This was the first shower since Lake Moreno, and there was a lot of dirt and dead skin entering the drain. Today has been another adventurous day.