I've accepted a trail name bestowed upon me by my clan. Its origin is in my mistaken forecast for rain on our first morning. Today, while resting beneath an overhanging rock, during the last leg of our massively intense journey toward Scissors Crossing, The Weatherman was solidified. It's not the sexiest name but sitting there post meditation, surrounded by all of these new friends its hard to deny the humour in such a name. So now The Weatherman serves as a token to the origin of my time with these goons (and a reminder to blunder with grace). To be determined if it sticks.

The days trek was challenging with immense heat and long water carries. At a point where I considered veering off trail to follow a road to a town closer to Julian, Jerome arranged for us to stay with a trail angel named Becky for the evening. With this update we enthusiastically journeyed the additional 9 miles to reach Scissors Crossing by 6:00pm.

There to greet us was another trail angel who goes by Ghost. After a few minutes of chatting Becky showed up and we split toward town for dinner at the Brewery. A few hours later she returned to bring us to her home for the evening. There she provided a shower, laundry room, and large yard to pitch camp. After a hot shower and load of laundry I quickly climbed into my familiar sleeping bag, just without the usual dirt.