May 22, 2013
Mile 394
24 miles today

The smell of fresh scones yanked me from under the ping-pong table. Packed up and headed into town for a bulk-up breakfast. The walk was long, but the hitch proved easy and lovely, a 1956 Willys Sedan with the original motor. Ate like the starved and then tried thumb work back to the trailhead. The wait was 22 seconds and well worth it, a cherry red 1954 pickup so near to my truck, a 1951 GMC. Rode to the trailhead in the back, grinning all the way.

The trail proceeded in its customary gain and loss personality. Sometimes a jaunt to the top to have a chat with the oracle, sometimes to the valley to talk with their counterpart. Coyote scat covered the trail indicating territory. The climbs grew hot as noon passed. The old adage confirmed – only mad dogs, Englishmen and PCT thru hikers go out in the midday sun. At each summit a new panorama presented, and the endorphins came rushing back. Times like those make you feel too big for your skin.

I continue to be amazed at the lack of population in Southern California once one is removed from the coast. Reminds me of the population in Egypt clustered around the Nile.

The trail crisscrossed the Angeles National Highway several times until being cutoff completely by a Park Service edict. Seems yet another toad was threatened so a four-mile section of the PCT was closed. Two options presented. A 17-mile alternate trail to cover those four miles or a three-mile road walk. Having taken our sanity pills that morning we hit the road. Traffic was light, so the spat factor was minimal. Shortly we arrived at an organized campground and set up for the night, once again a cowboy camp. In reality I have set up the tarp a total of three times in 20 nights.

Before long, a desire for a beer was voiced. On cue, Mike and Norbert, two trail angels from LA, pulled up and shouted, “Any thru hikers here in the mood for a beer?” Multiple affirmations were simultaneous. A huge cooler was drug out full of beer, soda and snacks. Then they were off to the forest to gather wood for a fire. The night went from a cold one, shoveling down couscous, to beer around a roaring fire.

The conversation rolled on until the angels had to return to Angeles. My guess is Mike would have joined the trek northward in a short second if he could have escaped the grasping embrace of Capitalism.

I tried to imagine Mike and Norbert’s mindset. “Hey, it’s Wednesday night. Let’s stock an ice chest, drive an hour out to Angeles National Forest, track down some thru hikers, and give it to them.” Fine specimens of humanity.

Part of the goodies left were a box of Mike and Ike candies, which are basically chewable globs. Irresistible. As I masticated a glob of five, I bit into a rock. Too lazy to separate the rock, I tried to swallow the glob whole. The dimension of my throat compared with the dimension of the glob prevented this. This was fortuitous, for further exploration informed me that the rock was a tooth and trying to place it back where it belonged, in the dark, after a couple of beers, made me sleepy. So I put the tooth in my pocket, lay down and dreamt of wilderness dentists.

Steve Halteman
On the Pacific Crest Trail
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

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