“I’m headed to the 501,” said Mr. Wrong, who’d joined us, and off he went. We thought about it a few minutes and decided to keep moving, knowing the 501 wasn’t far off. This legendary shelter was where I got my trailname 15 years ago, and I’d been looking forward to staying there. If we remained where we were, we’d end up skipping it.
Uncountable piles of rocks later, we made our way through drizzle and big mud puddles to the 501. It’s a four-sided shelter, with a giant skylight and bunks, a solar shower and portable toilet, and a couple of caretakers on site. They weren’t around, and the pizza place that delivers to the trailhead was closed. But John persisted. A call to Sholls Restaurant led to their cook, Steve, dropping off a big order of broasted chicken after closing time. We couldn’t eat it all, but our fellow sheltermates sure could!