We decide at Casa de Luna that we’re going to hitch the next fire detour. It’s a 12 mile road walk and we’ve walked every other detour so far, so we feel like we’ve earned it. But as we walk down to the road, something sits heavy in my gut, and I can see by the looks on Bear Bait and Shake’nBake’s faces that they feel the same. We say goodbye to Down Time and Clammy, who get a ride almost immediately and start the long walk.

We set rules as we walk. We will take a hitch, but only if it is unsolicited. And only if we like the car the person is driving. We make it to the bar at the halfway point with no offers. I devour a burger and fries, then ponder pie too. Hiker hunger is relentless and I am never full. After lunch, the temperature soars. A man stops almost immediately to offer a lift and we jump in. I feel only a little bad. And then we are climbing, back up to the trail and the 500 mile mark. Bear Bait puts the Proclaimers on his phone and we celebrate with a mojito-off. Shake’nBake and I have been talking about packing something out for 500 for weeks, which devolved into a disagreement about ingredients and a challenge. His tastes like drain cleaner and mine tastes like mouthwash and the only way we can manage to choke them down is to mix them together. And then we are dropping down towards the desert floor and the scary, waterless desert that we have so far avoided. We camp low and set our alarms for 4am. It’s time to walk the aqueduct. LA has haunted us for a while. Its lights shone like reflected stars from the top of Baden Powell. I ducked into the suburbs for new shoes. And now we walk along its veins and arteries, pipes bringing water to millions of people. The sun comes up as we walk along the top of the aqueduct, through the Joshua trees. As the sun rises, the temperature climbs too. By 11am, I feel like my brain is frying. We pitch a tarp in the breeziest spot we can find. I nap fitfully, sweating on my z-lite. I cold soak ramen for lunch and it is almost as hot as if I had used a stove. Finally, the heat starts to break and we walk on. A mile down the tent, a tent appears like a mirage. A woman in a waitress apron walks towards us to take our order. Is this a fever dream? No, it is the best trail magic so far. Our trail angels have set up their Burning Man tent to feed hikers hot dogs, fruit salad and ice cream. It’s hard to tear ourselves away, but we manage after an hour or so, and then we are walking under the windmills in the gathering darkness. And then we are running for Tehachapi, where we plan to take a break. It’s the last place to zero before Kennedy Meadows and the start of the Sierra. At only 144 miles, the anticipation is building for the big mountains and the snow.