Mt. Shasta was also nice in the fact that it wasn't filled with the meth-tweakers, but instead with earthy-crunchy mellow, dreadlocked, bongo playing, tie dye wearing, shower eschewing, bare-foot yogis. Lots of crystal shops and cannabis clinics around. It was hard telling the locals from the thru-hikers!
I ate at a great Mexican restaurant my second night there and ran into Hot Shot with her mom. I was surprised. Hot Shot, in addition to being a wilderness firefighter, was almost 6 feet tall. I figured she' have blown past me a while back and I'd never see her again. Turns out, Hot Shot had been having some shin splints and foot problems and she had made the decision to get off the trail at Mt. Shasta. Quite a bummer, but probably the best decision for her.