August 12, 2013
41 miles today
mile 1988

Up and on the road by 6:30 AM. A third-party cowboy-camped nearby asleep when we arrived and yet to stir at our departure. Jealousy at such a fine sleep. The sun circled up and started in on the lakes. Their steaming a reflection of a renewed acquaintance. I watched two River Otters play in the new light, their exhales carrying across the caused ripples. It’s good to walk in the early hours.

Crossed paths with Bandleader yet again. He is pushing to meet his father at the Timberline Lodge. A lost zero when calculating their reunion led to bad math. Which translates into 40-mile days as punishment, should he want to be there punctually. He took it all in good stride and strides well.

Wandered for miles through damp, mossy forest. Immersion in a landscape creates a permanent reality in one’s head. This is all there is and all there ever will be. An end to permanence causes a shock. And so it was when I broke out of the forest to behold the first of Triplet Sisters. The three volcanic mountains are fraternal, not identical. Can triplets be identical? Regardless it was quite the eye feast. Also on the new pallet were the aptly named Brokentop Mountain and Mount Bachelor. Luckily, the glue of the PCT suppresses the urge to leave trail and start climbing. The path gathered residents. Passed many day hikers, also multiple dogs schlepping packs. Two Rhodesian Ridgeback’s caused a bout of homesickness, being twins of my own. Then a pack train for horses allowed us to pass and then gleefully tried to run us down on a big uphill. The terrain pushed the forest back. A second sister made her debut. We forged down a wide glacier-formed valley. An uninvited lava flow had rudely covered about a third of it, the meeting point stark.

The miles flowed past like a boat floast on a lazy river. Lunch in a meadow cut by a shallow stream. Entertainment provided by the Pack Train’s arrival and refusal to cross said stream, much to their cowboy’s unsuppressed frustration. More float. We would easily make our 8:00 PM meeting time. The pace quickened as Orbit’s excitement at seeing her friends grew. I turned on a radio station, the only one I could get. It played the 60’s through the 80’s. Restored to my youth, I sped up in nostalgia of that faster time.


And then, when all was looking good, the trail turned on us. The float went over a waterfall. Into the lava fields we plunged. The last 10 miles were tortured. Twisting and turning, up one side and down the other, and forever crunching. Our speed butchered. But, oh, so beautiful. To see it, though, required a full halt. Eyes off-path plus movement equals trail suicide in the fields of our Lords lava. Orbit was having none of it. It was reunion time and she pulled away. I took in the sun’s retreat across the landline of lava. Savoring it and the trail magic mountain dew that fueled my final steps.

An emergence from lava onto a dark highway and alone. No signal to call. What to do but sit down to war. In the midst of a battle, an only chance, car. Aces in the back with a warm root beer and listening to Orbit and her friend, Lia, playing the catch-up game. As always, Orbit had gone down a different branch, thus our emergence on two points of the same highway.


First up, the Town of Sisters. A saloon fed me a pork sandwich that I will forever be grateful for. Then to a further reunion in a hotel room in the town of Bend at the well named Bend In Hotel. There we met Lia’s identical twin sister, Logan, followed by a surprise out of the bathroom from a third close friend, Leah.



The happiness and estrogen were bouncing off the walls. Orbit was finally surrounded by females. Out came a banjo and spoons. Music flooded. I faded. It was after 11. Time to hit the town. I passed and bid good night and crawled in the closet. Seven feet long by shoulder width, it felt like a Temple Grandin hugging machine. I closed the door to seal the dark. My thoughts arrived at a conclusion. “So this is what a coffin feels like. I think I’ll be cremated on that approaching day.”

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

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