I came to the San Fernando National Forest not expecting to run around. To be sedentary and alone. I found myself needing to engage a bit and soon came to find true joy in connecting with the local workers and the bus drivers.

It began with someone showing welcoming kindness to me when I entered the Crestline Diner or Cafe. It was good food, but he wanted to hear my story. He was patient. He shared a little, but I just needed a friend. I went into the bathroom and found charcoal on one cheek, tanned, dry skin, and hair on fire from wearing a hat immediately after sleep.

I met two bus riders and neighborhood keepers who asked me questions, genuinely wanting to make sure I was ok. One said she was intentionally speaking with me because she knew I needed it. Needed something like a bright light.

It was my riding companion throughout who became my first of four teachers. I mistook her for a faery, but she doesn’t dance. She had disco moments like I in very special moments that I could move. It was spiritual. She is a protector that has literally flown, in the dark, on a canyon dirt rode.

She taught me or reminded me that she is someone who will always do what she needs to protect and survive. That will always include her children.

She loves to speak with teenage boys and offer them sage advice.

She is an angel.

We agree. It came to her last evening. It came to me shortly before she returned to me as I rode with her on my way to Running Springs where I would meet a self-described faery with amazing eye make up that helps her not feel naked and exposed. She collects faeries and has this information to know that I am at the Zebulon to see Lucinda Chua and to be immersed in a person’s story.

The person in Running Springs and fed me a delicious Spanish omelet, truly crispy hash browns, and a ridiculously large portion of divinely peppered biscuits and gravy.

I showed a knife from my father that is from the shepherds of Sardenia. He so loved to travel. He traveled with me, with his already ailing body, seeing Mayan ruins, staying in questionable lodging, and eating a unique home-like places. She and maybe one of the cooks, admired the beauty of the animal horns and the story it speaks.

The last was a woman who is a self-described pixie in Running Springs at a real apothecary. We spoke for over an hour about something. More later. A show. An experience.