We spent the night at the aptly-named Courthouse Motel. I was glad for the opportunity to shower and wash my clothes (especially my stiff-as-cardboard socks), and even happier to enjoy a hot meal at a fancy French restaurant that for some reason graces the otherwise deserted town of Independence. The next morning we resupplied at the local Shell gas station, paying inflated prices to load up on ramen, jerky, oatmeal, and other such backpacking sundries. Meredith had also shipped a box of food to the small post office, which we divvied up between us.
We rearranged our backpacks as the temperature rose in the surrounding desert. A group of hikers took turns standing in the hot sun, trying to hitch a ride back up to Onion Valley. After two hours of trying they were still there, which did not bode well for our own hitching prospects. I walked out of the motel courtyard dreading the long, uncomfortable wait. But we lucked out again, as a thru-hiking couple from Wisconsin spotted us walking to the intersection and immediately picked us up on their way to stash some food supplies in the bear boxes at the trailhead. We camped out on a high escarpment just below Kearsarge Pass, packs and bellies full and ready for the trail ahead.
Russell on the Road 