July 2, 2013
27 miles today
Mile 1045

Returned to the trail courtesy of Preston who had field work to do in the area. We talked more of Preston’s research. Much of his field research takes place in the winter. Sonora pass is closed seasonally because of snow. How to get there? How about hitch a ride with the Marines in one of their tanks? Fun solutions are better. Speaking of fun, he was once cross country skiing through fox habitat on the lookout for scat. He crested a snowbound ridge and came upon 500 Marines engaged in an epic snowball fight. If only warfare could be so civilized.

Thought of UB on the ride out. Ran into him at the motel. He seemed at his limit mentally and physically and was headed back to San Francisco for a week of rest. The trail had handed him a beating. But like any boxer headed to the corner he would be back for the next round. That you could see in his eyes. Crossing paths with him again before Canada a certainty.

Ran into Muk Muk at the Sonora Pass trailhead and got caught up. Said our farewells to Tortuga who had Hitched out with us from Bridgeport. And we’re off, sadly and strangely without Red Beard. Starting at a pass always means a climb up and that is how we engaged, Charged with adrenaline but slowed by three days worth of food. Everywhere there were grasshoppers who, when they flew, sounded like baseball cards hitting bicycle spokes on a hot August afternoon.

The terrain continued its trend toward volcanic. Old cinder cones began to appear. This was a good thing as crushed ash makes for soft walking. Of interest today as both of my knees were feeling centarian. Lunch was by a stream, against a rock that had a perfect La-Z-Boy angle. This sky was crystal blue during the appetizers and dark gray by dessert. Within the first post lunch mile the thunder had started and drizzle had commenced. Patches of blue remained and I wanted to race toward them, but the slotted track I was on constantly veered back towards the muck.

The thunder crescendos increased and the sky tension built. We raced on to camp. Then a mighty crack of lightning that drained the storm of its enthusiasm. We were scott-free, or so we thought, for the storm seem to reinvigorate the mosquitoes. They returned with hunger.

So we kept walking, until a windblown pass high above all. There we made home and watched with pleasure as the slipstream sucked mosquitoes over the edge and hopefully to their doom.

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

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