Free Skywalker--Highs and Lows on the Pacific Crest Trail by Bill Walker Page A

getting to Canada before October, etc—all lay in shambles.
    Idyllwild was overrun with PCT hikers as the annual wave of thru-hikers was passing through, and word had filtered out about my misfortune. Hikers were dropping by the cabin to commiserate. In reality, though, most simply wanted a firsthand look at the atrocity they had all heard this woman had committed on me.
    “I’d call her up and raise hell,” Wrongway suggested.
    “I’d call her up,” Cruiser asserted, “and tell her you were going to sue the shit out of her.” Neither fit my laid-back character. However, I did grit my teeth and call the clinic to try to clarify taping instructions. I was braced for a verbal shellacking from Nurse Renee. Surprisingly, they put me right through to her. Much more surprisingly, though, was her attitude. Gone were the surliness and antipathy to hikers. The new Renee was respectful and glad to repeat bandaging and medical instructions over and over to a neurotic ex-patient. Actually, there was even a hint of defensiveness in her speech. Was she remorseful that she had laid me so low? More likely, she was worried because Idyllwild is a small town. And yesterday she had made sure I was going to be here for awhile.

     
    Headline: Cougar attacks hiker in the Cleveland National Forest. Dave had turned on the television and this bit of journalistic gold was at the top of the news.
    “Hey, isn’t the Cleveland National Forest where we are right now?” Dave asked.
    “We were,” I answered. “I’m not sure if we’re still in it.” A cougar had attacked a hiker there. The hiker’s dog had loyally jumped in to defend the hiker, at which point the cougar had made short work of the dog. The big surprise, though, was that it had occurred in the middle of the day.
    “I thought they only moved around at night,” Dave said, sounding a bit concerned. He was planning to hike out alone the next morning.
    There are about 5,000 cougars in California. They are nocturnal and extremely stealthy. So stealthy that they sometimes follow their victims for days at a time. In fact, most PCT hikers are probably followed by a cougar for awhile, although only about fifteen percent actually see one. They like to hang out on rocks where they spring out to break the back of their prey’s necks instantaneously. Fortunately, cougars are such great hunters that they almost always choose tastier prey than us wretched humanoids.
    Dave wasn’t an alarmist type, but I did notice him watching the local news again that night at 6:00 and 10:00. And when I awoke and went to the bathroom at 3:00 that morning his light was on, and I heard him re-arranging his backpack yet again. He was just retiring in Florida where he had quite a nice lifestyle; this was proving tougher than expected. Off he went alone at first light into one of the most brutal dry stretches in the desert. My heart went out to him.

     
    “How tall are you?” came the question from behind me. Never has been my favorite question. But in the literally tens of thousands of times I have fielded it, this would prove to be my very favorite.
    I was in the Idyllwild Library, and turned around to see who had asked the question. A sixty-ish lady, quite decked out for a public library, stood there smiling at me. Fortunately, I didn’t give her one of the sassy answers I occasionally employ. I gave her a straight answer. After all, I was going to be in town awhile.
    Every so often in trail towns you meet that rare person who is ga-ga over us smelly tramps. That was the case here with this woman, named Bettina. I was with Just Jack, who had very thoughtfully come by that morning and offered to carry my backpack to the Idyllwild campground, where I was now planning to stay the rest of my convalescence. But all I could think about was how difficult it was going to be to keep my wounded feet clean and properly bandaged at the campground.
    “How would you two guys like to come up to my place for dinner