On April 26 2014 I met Pilgrim at ADZPCTKO Trail Days on the southern end of the Pacific Crest Trail. He needed a ride. I drove him to where I was working in Mt. Laguna at Super Dave’s. He flirted, loitered and popped up here and there for days, and was generally irresistible. From that point on, insane shit proceeded to happen, but not that much more insane than I was used to from hanging out with all my other drunk and high and otherwise addicted-to-some-surprise boyfriends (I’ve kicked that habit*).
It was FULL ON. That guy both made me laugh, blew my mind, and terrified me to the point where one night (July 6th) I drove my slow bus 800 miles from Fresno as fast as I could. I went into hiding on a renegade pot farm (I hadn’t been on a pot farm in 30 years) in the middle of nowhere and never saw him again. I know a little bit about what happened after that night from the man himself, and it shows that the veil had fully cracked.
Look, this guy has demons. He’s seen some horrendous things, and has a solid history of trauma. But unless he is drunk or high, or you’re considerably stupid, he’s polite and considerate, and might be telling the truth. So, when I look around and see people poking fun at him as a lunatic and whatnot, I cringe. Have a heart. I mean, approach carefully, but have a heart.
In 2016, while solo-hiking the Hayduke (and I know exactly where I was the minute I got the text), Wired (yes, that Wired) texted me Pilgrim’s mugshot and said he was causing problems on the Continental Divide Trail. If you can imagine, it was not the most pleasant missive to receive.
She asked, did I know him and could I provide input? I didn’t reply, nor did I keep in touch with Wired or find out what was going on on the CDT. That was just callous and messy, and I was happy to just keep walking. Victims of abuse are not necessarily responsible for preventing future abuses, nor should they have their nose abruptly rubbed in the past.
There’s something I learned (or re-learned) while helping out over several seasons at Hiker Heaven. I always saw Donna Saufley as sort of a bleeding heart, or a modern day Jesus Christ. She takes countless people into her home, or at least on to her property, and trusts that they will not be assholes. Very few people, of the many many thousands over about 20 years, have been assholes on the Saufley property. Her approach works. But every once in a while when my hackles would rise, I’d make a case to Donna about how someone was an asshole and why things might be better if they were encouraged to leave. Here’s how that would go: Donna would say, “let it lie, Puppy. Drop the bone…” and sometimes many months or years later would admit that I was right about the person. You don’t grow up surrounded by addicts and then become an addictions nurse and then miss funky behavior when it’s right under your nose. Generally, I can smell that sort of thing from a mile away, except for when I don’t. And at that point I guess you could say I’m a bleeding heart, too.
I have gotten much better at picking friends. That said, one can only be so lucky as to enjoy the brilliance of someone like Pilgrim without being much harmed. He lives hard and fast to the point I wouldn’t be surprised if he died years ago. He’s life on the razor’s edge. He’s the stuff you go to movies to watch. He is breathing art. When he is annoying you, I know personally that he’s likely gotten under your skin with a parody or sarcasm, something meant to WAKE YOU UP. And when he is wooing you, he’s going to make you feel like a grand.
And he better stay away from me.
* The drama boyfriends are fun when not dangerous. I now have a drama-free partner who makes me realize the drama boyfriends were a drug.
I could watch this over and over. This guy tells a story like nobody else. And he tells it different every time!
P.S. This story is clickbait to pay for Pilgrim’s cigarettes.