Free Blistered Kind Of Love by Angela Ballard, Duffy Ballard

scalp. His narrow eyes were nearly hidden behind bulging cheeks and round spectacles. Meadow Ed’s belly hung proudly and unobstructed over squat legs contained in loose sweat pants. All in all, he was a picture nearly antithetical to that of a long-distance hiker—which was appropriate, because although Ed enjoyed hanging out with hikers, he didn’t appear to be much of a hiker anymore. Ed normally based his trail angel work out of Kennedy Meadows, in the Sierra, but when he heard that Pat had left the Oasis for a couple weeks during prime hiker season (for family reasons), Ed had traveled south to give Paul a hand.
    While Paul puttered inside, Ed oriented us to the laundry and washroom facilities and laid out the rules of the house. We were
not
allowed inside the RV without an invitation from Paul; we were
not
to sleep on the deck; we were
not
to drink, cuss, or smoke; and most importantly, we were
not
to threaten the vitality of the Oasis by pissing on the lawn. It was immediately clear that Ed himself was perhaps not setting such a good example; his breath held thescent of whiskey. But, minutes later, I forgave him the inconsistency when he produced two steamy cups of hot chocolate, a big bowl of ramen topped with turkey gravy, and a basket of garlic bread. We dug in aggressively, occasionally taking a breath to chat with our fellow hikers. After our shoveling slowed, Ed extracted our hiking résumés. Upon hearing that we were babes in the long-distance hiking world, he set about educating us. I never did figure out exactly how much of the trail Ed had hiked, but from the beginning it was easy to see that he was heavily invested in spreading its lore.
    Ed started by giving us the play-by-play of upcoming trail. After Anza we would head into the San Jacintos, which offered steep climbs up Spitler and Apache mountains and then an equally steep descent down Devils Slide Trail for a town stop in Idyllwild. This was the section of the trail where Marge, also known as the “Old Gal,” had recently suffered a nasty fall. Next was another mountain range, the San Bernardinos. Before we reached them, however, we would face a descent out of the San Jacintos and the greatest loss and subsequent regain in elevation on any portion of the trail. We’d plummet from over 9,000 feet in the San Jacintos down to San Gorgonio Pass at about 1,000 feet, and then head back up to 8,500 in the San Bernardinos. In the process, Ed told us sternly, while scratching at the few tufts of hair on his head, we should be sure to find the Pink Motel in West Palm Springs.
    â€œThe Pink Motel,” he said, “is a junkyard house in the middle of sand and chaparral. It’s a grade-A trail angel spot, but not easy to find.” He marked it on our map before continuing his verbal tour through Section C of our guidebook and the San Bernardinos. He looked at me gravely as he did so. I stared back and was concerned by the sight of his poor dentition.
    â€œYou know, you’ll see grizzly bears in Section C.”
    â€œHoly shit,” I thought, “is he kidding? Grizzly bears, down here?”
    â€œ
Grizzly
bears?”
    â€œYes, grizzlies, most hikers see them,” Ed continued in the solemn tone.
    â€œDon’t y’all listen to him,” broke in Chris. “He’s talking about some sort of animal farm. There ain’t no wild grizzlies down here.”
    Ed grinned. “Yeah, there’s an animal park near Onyx Summit, right next to the trail. Owner’s got a grizzly caged. He’s a Hollywood animal trainer andhe keeps his animals out there. He has cougars, too, and tigers.”
    â€œThe tiger was in the movie
Gladiator
,” Stacey pitched in. I thought that was an exciting piece of news and had Ed mark the location in our guidebook.
    Meadow Ed talked us all the way up to Agua Dulce, at mile 450, before taking a break. He didn’t rest for long, though. Our next lecture was