May 20th.  Mile 471-485 (14 miles)

I awoke in the morning still high off of my wildlife encounter from last night.  I told the other hikers camped nearby my story, and we all noticed the unusual amount of cat prints in the area as we hiked throughout the morning.  Before noon, we came to a road crossing which lead to the house of The Andersons, an infamous group of trail angels.  The Andersons, a married couple in their mid 50s, have been supporting and aiding hikers for nearly 15 years, offering a place to stay and food(taco salad every night and pancakes every morning).  The Andersons are true eccentrics, referring to their home and what they do as 'hippy daycare.'  Terri Anderson, the wife, is known to flash her breasts and butt(both can be described as sizable), engage in pudding wrestling matches with hikers, and participates in various other debaucherous acts.

Thinking that it was too eadly in the day for drinking or pudding wrestling, and feeling well rested from my recent day off, I decided to skip the stop and continue heading up trail.  After a few miles I began to sincerely regret my decision.  I felt as if I owed it to myself, and to this journal, to experience all of the strangeness that this trail has to offer.  At 14 miles into the day I came across another road crossing and attempted to hitchhike back to the Andersons. 

I had been standing along a lonesome stretch of rural road, unsuccessful in my attempts to hitchhike, for around 30 minutes when I spyed a while minivan racing down the road towards me.  I waved it down and was sprayed with gravel as the van skidded to a stop next to me.  The tinted front window of the minivan lowered and I met the gaze of an older man with a heavy white beard, long white hair kept in a ponytail, and eyes shaded behind a pair of surprisingly modern styled sport sunglasses.   "Whats yer name?" growled the man.
"Bambi," I replied. 
"Sissy name, Bambi.  I am Joe Anderson, wanna come home with me?"
"Yes, sir. I would like that very much"
And so I was whisked away, flying down rural roads as Joe yelled out at tail gaters and perpetrators of any other traffic automobile faux pas.
"Fuck you man! Yer gonna kill someone!" Yelled Joe as he stormed down the road in his white minivan.
We arrived at his house where I saw many familiar faces sitting in lawn chairs in the driveway.  Everyone was wearing a hawaiian shirt.  One of the shockingly few rules at the Andersons is that all hikers must adorn themselves in a hawaiian shirt, chosen from a giant rack of shirts also located in the driveway.

I spent the night drinking and hanging out with a motley crew of hikers.  I punished myself with two heaping plates of Terri Anderson's famous taco salad and engaged the other hikers in rumors about the trail ahead.  Apparently many other hikers had encounters with, or sightings of, a mountain lion in the same area that I spotted mine.  One hiker awoke to a mountain lion standing mere feet away, watching him as he slept.  Terri reported that a local forest ranger had released a mother lion and her cub in the area a few months previous (thanks a lot forest service!)

For all their eccentricities, the Andersons are endlessly welcoming to hikers, one and all.  I was astounded by their generosity and kindness.  After feeling orphaned for so long on this hike, I finally felt as if I was home.