August 27, 2013
25 miles
mile 2445

Sleep went deep into the morning. But the contract calls of miles. Stood up and discovered a new world of instability. Started my walk with Golda whose beauty masked a streak of cruelty. As it is often so. Slow progress. Orbit tracked down a ride into town on a side road. I politely declined, having found stubbornness will often overcome physical limitations. Orbit then backtracked to the camp for an ace bandage. Being a liability was becoming my new hobby. She returned smitten with the camp host. A double hand fanning indicating the highest level of admiration. She also remembered the bandage.

With that, lots of Aleve and a trekking pole as cane, I resumed north. Flats and uphill were manageable. Downhill not so. It was time for the talk. Orbit’s flight was purchased for the sixth. At this speed the third moved out of reach for me. It was time. I encouraged her to take off. We’d had a great run of hiking together, but in the end we’re all on our own. She agreed. We kicked around some far-fetched alternatives. She hung back. I plodded on. The whirl of gears in her tactical mind audible for some time.

A lake of position

I climbed to a break in the mountain mall. Then skirted a well-positioned late. Orbit caught up. She announced alternative plan 19. Yet another way to reach the border on September third. Shorten miles now, lengthen them later. I smiled. She had made a strange mistake for someone so independent. She had confused her success with our success. Or maybe she just liked confirming her own stubbornness against the wall of fate. I went along. A September third arrival would be a beautiful thing. Off she went leaving me determined in her wake.

Trashed bridge

Passed the first of many wrecked bridges to come. Another season must bring a heavier flow. Began a long punishing downhill. My knees buckling at every opportunity. In counterbalance I grew adept at using the trekking pole as a brake and tripod. Miles began to add. Came upon Orbit who had just finished a private pissing turned public. Seems a trail maintenance crew on a ridge above had appreciated a rare bit of forest entertainment. She waved in acknowledgment.

Finally rejoined my steady PCT. Happy my brief flirtation with another trail was over. As punishment for my waywardness the PCT immediately threw a long climb at me. Better than a downhill at this point. Getting the hang of pulling and then pushing with my trekking poles. Let my arms earn their keep for once. Maybe one day I’ll actually take up using these things. Took a break. Curious about my feet. I pulled off my socks. Yanked two more toenails off. Pedicures becoming cheaper by the day.

Bed moss

Dark arrived before my destination. But at least I would arrive. Came to a stream. An azblaster standing sentinel center path. A signal to fill up here because the camp was dry. A sign only I would recognize. And then the light of a glowing tent and it’s attendant joy. Maybe big miles tomorrow. For tonight I was just happy to be stubborn, and for those around me to be the same.

Water-up signal

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

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