For two days, we had labored in thin air under heavy packs, clearing the trail's highest pass between Yosemite and Canada, while attempting an ambitious pace of 15 miles a day. As much as we enjoyed the wildflowers and rocky scenery, the last miles leading to Ebbetts Pass beat up both our bodies and morale. That was when we spotted the cardboard sign.

"Trail magic," it said.

Curious, we ventured down the path and met a Pacific Crest Trail veteran and three companions, who welcomed us into their camp and offered us cold drinks, fresh fruit and, within minutes, hot cheeseburgers. Sam enjoyed meaty treats and a dish of water. We had met our first trail angels, heaven-sent friends of PCT backpackers, who greet hikers with food and drinks. And we met more along the way.

"I've hiked the entire trail three times, and I want to give something back," explained our new friend Lizard. Everyone has a trail name up here -- his companions included Burger Meister and Forever Fifty.

A wonderful hour later, we were back on the trail, with muscles and spirits refreshed. We spent that night beneath the stars at Sherrold Lake. Zach and I enjoyed it, at least. Sam, unused to sleeping outdoors, growled at many unseen critters in the night. The next day, we enjoyed the lakes, streams, meadows and peaks of the Mokelumne Wilderness, feeling stronger as our packs got lighter.