6-7 miles over Mono Pass to Mosquito Flats, not on the PCT
Total PCT miles hiked: 1358
Due to our early start Keith (Starman) and I arrived at the Sierras when there was still a lot of snow, and decided it wasn’t safe to attempt a crossing given my skill level. We elected to flip up to northern California and hike southbound (SoBo) back to where we left off near Lone Pine – giving the snow a chance to melt out. During this flip the PCT milage will be counting down, but I’ll include a tally of our total milage hiked so that you can keep aprised of our progress in a linear fashion.
We arrive at the Mosquito Flats parking lot as suddenly as though we’ve been deposited by an alien ship. People flock and swam with dogs straining against their leashes while children cry in protest against the application of sunscreen. It’s the day before the fourth of July middle-of-the-week long weekend and tourists are out in full force. It’s a sight both alarming in it’s frenetic energy, and relieving – at least it’s going to be an easy hitch.
We pick a spot at the end of the parking lot and plunk down our packs. Keith sits on the curb and I put on my nice white lady face. The face that says I’m not a threat or a murderer and I’m a safe person to give a ride to. In my opinion the key to hitchhiking is two-fold. One – It is your job as the hitchhiker to look clean, polite, and approachable. Remember that you are asking someone for their time and effort, you are not owed a ride no matter how important of a hiker you think you are. Two – be a woman, ideally a white, thin, semi-attrctive one. It’s much much easier to hitch as a lady – hence why Keith is sitting on the curb behind me. I also know that my white and thin privileges help me immensely when on the trail. I’m less likely to be seen as homeless and as a woman I’m rarely seen as a threat to someone’s safety. At least half of our rides have explicitly told us that they would not have stopped we’re I not a woman or if we weren’t a couple.
Even with the advantage of my nice white lady face it takes us an hour and a half to get a ride. It’s one of our longest waits; normally we can get a ride within half an hour of getting to a road, and it’s not uncommon for the first car that passes us to stop. I largely attribute the longer wait time to the fact that most of these people are on vacation. As a rule, tourists are less likely to pick you up than locals or people driving for work. Prius drivers will almost never pick you up, and it’s not even worth putting your thumb out for old white people in luxury cars—they’re not going to stop for you. Conversely, young people in economy cars, dudes in pick up trucks, and retired folks in Honda’s and mini vans are your best bet.
Today, due to the approaching holiday and our proximity to the vacation community of Mammoth Lakes the majority of the cars that pass us carry affluent tourists. And that means one thing: the rejection shrug! A shrug and a smile that says “I’m sorry, but I just don’t want to give you a ride.” A gesture that comes from someone who never in a million years would give a ride to a hitchhiker, but they accidentally made eye contact and now they feel obligated to show you very clearly that they’re not going to stop. One woman in the passengers seat of a big Mercedes goes so far as to roll her window up as she approaches us, only to roll it back down once they’re past. Classy, lady—I’m not going to jump in your car through your window.
If you are ever in a position to give someone a ride and you just don’t want to, for whatever reason, just don’t do the rejection shrug. It’s ok if you don’t stop, I know that I’m a stranger and we’ve all been lead to believe that giving rides to hitchhikers is the quickest way to lose one or both of your kidneys, so don’t feel that you owe me a nonverbal explanation through your scrunched shoulders. The rejection shrug only makes you the driver feel better, and me the hiker feel confused about the emptiness of your back seat.
Eventually however, a nice older couple in a 2000 Honda CR-V gives us a ride all the way down into Bishop. They’re locals and mountain folk, the perfect demographic for a tired hiker looking to get into town.
Did you have a cool “PCT Hiker” sign? When you were planning this hike I never thought about hitch hiking, now it seems a normal part of your through hiking life.
Is through hiking “real life” now?
We rarely have a sign, though sometimes in town we can wrangle a marker and paper from an establishment. I knew hitching would be a decent part of the trail, especially since we’re without a car most of the time.
That ‘older’ couple was your mom and I. Yes, we still have that 2000CRVeeee.
Ugh the woman putting up her window of her luxury car for a couple who just needs a quick ride really hit me in the feels. The state of our country just feels rotten and selfish from every angle lately. It’s those who have not who empathize with your vulnerability in needing and requesting a ride.