/ˈzēˌrō/
(noun)
  1. No quantity or number; naught; the figure 0.
  2. A day in which no miles are hiked.

Zero #14: Fish Lake to Medford to Roseburg to Oakland

written Aug 7, 2017 @ 05:18 AM after hiking 0.00 miles

Today was a streak of unbelievable luck. Thankfully, Scrappy chronicled it, and I'll present it here, tweaked to be from my perspective.

3:30

I hear Scrappy wake up per usual and eat something in her tent. Crinkle crinkle crinkle.

6:00

woke up, packed up

6:30

we moved to picnic tables outside closed cafe

9:00

Scrappy gets a hot cup of coffee (and free refill!)

10:00

Get a hitch to Medford from an employee at the resort who was going to run errands anyway. Score!

11:00

Go to REI. Wander around aimlessly until we realize we don't really need anything. Scrappy gets some new socks and I get a roll of Rock Tape to help with my tendonitis. While sitting on the ground outside, trying to figure out which trail angel will be helping us, a generous stranger gives us a bag of chips and some Justin's Peanut Butter Cups. Then the trail angel in Roseburg calls and agrees to help us out. He'll pick us up in Roseburg, give us a place to stay, and drive us to the trail in the morning.

12:50

Go to Enterprise, get told that they don't have any one-way rentals. Fall back to Plan B: Greyhound.

1:10

Go to Chipotle. Get a burrito and a beer. Yay!

2:01

Go to Trader Joe's and resupply. I discover the best cookies ever created (see below).

3:00

Spread out gear to dry on the lawn of the bus station like a couple of hobos. Pick up tickets.

4:12

En route via Greyhound to Roseburg.

6:35

Picked up by Stephen, dinner at Jersey Lilly.

8:45

Arrive at Stephen's amazing orchard. Set up charges, take showers, organize gear and food.

These are seriously the best cookies ever made. Buy them.

After that, the timeline stops, because the day stopped. We both passed out, extraordinarily pleased with the kindness of complete strangers.