Kindness and Adventure with the Border Patrol

I'm writing this from a the Moreno Lake campground, powered by the shaver outlet.
We made it to San Diego yesterday morning and we were able to grab a pancake breakfast at Robert Walker's with my mother and Rod before they headed down to Mexico. We grabbed some last minute supplies in the city, and caught a the rail out to El Cajon to take the bus to Campo. We sat next to a perceptibly crazy woman who said she had died a million times and then 'turned into a fish.'
Our first experience in El Cajon was mostly pleasant, a fellow traveler accosted us for starting the PCT so early, but we got in some last second carb loading in down at the Main Tap Bar (credit: Wallace, Scott). A very helpful man named Antonio sat in the back of the bus with us and was very intrigued with our adventure. Everybody on the overloaded bus got off in Tecate except for us and one other woman. We got in with the driver, Israel, who gave us some good advice about Campo.
Campo, a town of 3,000 along Highway 94, butts up right against the border and is home to a fairly sizeable Border Patrol operation. We walked the 1.3 miles down to the border and celebrated reaching the Southern Terminus Monument of the Pacific Crest Trail. Just starting the adventure seemed like half the battle. The view Northward was beautiful, a few rolling hills and buttes in the desert sunset. Southward was a big red fence. It was just after 6 PM, so we figured we'd hike a couple miles before setting up camp. Border Patrol vehicles were running all over the place, and one agent stopped to ask us about our shoes. We were excited to talk gear, but it turned out he just wanted to see our tread so he didn't end up chasing us at night. After 2.5 miles we decided to set up camp right on trail. We were partway through setup when a big Ford pickup passed by on the dirt road below us, turned around, and parked fifteen feet away. We were dead silent, but waited to see what would happen. A door shut, another opened, and then a large, long haired German Shepard bounded up onto the trail towards us. My trust in dogs deteriorated greatly after living in Tibet, so I figured I was done for, two miles into the journey.
The dog stopped, and his Border Patrol handler called him off. We introduced and explained ourselves, and the agent, Aric, not only greenlighted our camping, but showed us a much better spot! We got to talking with him, and he gave us permission to build a fire, so we learned about his job and the latest border action while collecting twigs. He noticed our wood selection was pretty poor, and said, "I noticed a good wood pile close to here a few years ago, I'll go get it for you". Sure enough, he returned in fifteen minutes and before long we had a nice blaze going. Aric had been an agent for 23 years, stationed in Campo and living with his wife and two kids in San Diego. He was an avid sportsman himself, and had even hunted up in Alaska in my hometown, Cordova, with Dan Nichols, the father of a fond classmate Jon from elementary school! I know it's a small world, but getting firewood from a Border Patrol Agent in the middle of nowhere who has been to your own middle of nowhere hometown and knows the same people you do is pure amazing. We shared stories into night, pausing intermittently to listen to ongoing pursuits nearby on his radio. There were two chases in progress, and when one seemed like it required Aric's expertise, he bade us farewell, and drove off with his trusty four-legged companion, Orion.
The next morning we started our first full day trek, destination Moreno Lake. It was only about eighteen miles, but we were all a bit humbled by our heavy packs. We either need to eat more or nothing at all! The day had spurts of wind and rain, but we decided we preferred cold to otherwise typically hot weather when we rounded the top of Moreno Butte. One patch of the desert was completely charred, making for a surreal landscape in the fog. We tested out Chris' fancy water purifier in two of the streams we crossed, it worked quite well, although the silty water still comes out a tad yellow.
We camped at the grounds by Moreno Lake and had our first freeze dried food dinner. We thought that would be the highlight when, for the second night in a row, a large Ford truck pulled up... Out stepped Aric! He was on duty, but the lake was within his zone, and by car we were only ten miles from Campo. He had taken his chainsaw up a service road and chopped up some firewood for us! He hung out with us while we made our fire and we swapped some more stories. His incredible kindness for three young fellas setting off on an adventure was something impressive and super inspiring as we face 2,600 more miles of trail!