Monthly Archives: September 2013

Day 116 – Is this how it ends?

August 26, 2013
31 miles today

The day began warm and dry. Breakfast hot. Disbelief at our good fortune permeated the morning. The only reminder of outside came when putting on cold wet shoes. Placing such luck in the rearview was tough. But you open a door (fairly novel at this point) step outside and then step away. Soon the wet brush had us soaked again and all moved away from memories of comfort and back to northward.

A high school friend living in Seattle was to meet me at Snoqualime pass. I gave him a fixed arrival time of 1:30. Fixed and certainty are unwise positions to take when hiking. It would be wise to know this, but I don’t. Twenty miles till the pass. We both bonked at around 16 miles and sat down in a field of boulders for recalorie. Picas provided the floor show. I pulled off my socks (also fairly novel). A toenail had died and partially torn away. A bit gruesome but an explanation for that stabbing jab every step. I pulled off the rest between bites. A bit of a blood gusher. Even the Picas had to turn away. Found out that chewing is a good anecdote for pain.

Off quickly, our meeting time still feasible. Trucking along, I mentally reviewed the field reports of the azblaster. All positive. Perhaps next year I will go to kick off and distribute them free to the 2014 crop of hikers. Eliminating TP from the PCT would be a fine legacy. I’ve always wanted to impact history in some way. This could be a chance. My reverie was broken by, “Hey, are you a through hiker?” “Yep.” “What’s your name?” “Blast” “Shit, I’m Thai Kitchen.” With that he came storming out of the huckleberry bushes where he had been loading up Ziploc bags. Thai Kitchen is a great friend of Red Beard who had just finished up the Pacific Northwest Trail. A friend of a friend is a friend. We headed down to his car where he had left out trail magic. Orbit was already there mowing through the family reunion pack size of chocolate chip cookies. A fine conversation followed. Left with hope of a path cross in the future. Our meeting time at Snoqaulime pass slipped out of the realm of feasibility.

Pass drawing near

My northern Washington

Flew down a ski slope to the pass. Late and apologetic. JP stepped out of the car. It had been almost 30 years. Little had changed. His aesthetic, mannerism and voice still the same. We slipped into our friendship and ways easily. He tried to shake my hand. I hugged him. He said, “I knew you’d hug me. I’m clean, you’re filthy. Just right.” He brought pizza and beer. Then he ran us to the supermarket for stocking. All the while we crammed 30 years of review into a compressed time format. Orbit just sat back and took in the ravages and toil that 30 years takes on a graduating class. Soon it was time. So many goodbyes on the PCT. Thanks, John, for the assist.

Snoqualmie Pass

Left Snoqaulmie in the muck and fading light around 7 PM. But there was good news on the horizon. Orbit had found Hot Springs on an alternate trail that left the PCT and rejoined some miles later. Only 10 miles to a soak. The trail’s name was the Goldmeyer Trail, which I immediately rechristened the Golda Mier Trail in honor of the late Israeli prime minister. She was tough. The rechristening proved accurate.

Leaving Snoqualmie

All started well enough. Ran into a group of very young kids with a dad monitor. The kids were buzzing. “We just hiked 14 miles.” Excellent. Get them out there early. Of course there is always one at the back. “How much further?” These guys say only five minutes. By now all dad’s credibility shot. Orbit handed out lollipops sent by my sister to smooth those last five minutes of effort. A sharp climb to a lake painted in hues of colorless black, white and gray. Then night all around. Headlamps coming south. A meeting where everyone blinds everyone. “Where are you headed?” “The Hot Springs”. “Tonight? Are you sure?” “Yeah it’s only five more miles.” “Well…good luck.” I need to start listening between the lines with locals more.

Lake of hues

Crossed a pass and headed down. A roaring river below being a clue to destination. The grade steepened on both sides of each switchback. The trail deteriorated. No loving maintenance here. It started to rain. Bush took over. We slowed. Route finding became an issue. The downslope turned black. A bad sign for mistakes. I was walking point. We were down to one mph. Still our spirits were up. This is what we do. Then that mistake. I remember I was laughing when I stepped on a part of the trail that wasn’t there. Orbit’s words. “You fell off the mountain. Your headlamp light was spinning around. I didn’t like it.” My thoughts. “I can’t stop rolling. So this is how it ends. What a dumbass way to go.” Then I hit a small tree and stopped. Just past me was an edge and black. I don’t want to know about that part. A quick survey before the crawl back up. My right knee was wrecked.

What to do? I love simple answers. Can’t stay here. So go. I dragged my leg and told myself Hot Springs cure everything. But man, was I slow. A great distraction. Orbit discovered a monster salamander that had to be 10 inches long. For those things we get off the couch. The Hot Springs weren’t getting much closer. Change strategies. Orbit set off for camp to return for my back pack. I kept plugging. With a mile to go the welcome return glow of her headlamp. No pride in the matter, I handed over my bag. She slung my pack and took off, though the straps were too big to be of use for her. I’ll never forget watching her cross a single log bridge high over a waterfall chasm all the while drowning under my pack. She’s tough.

Finally into camp at 1:30 AM. Shot, but not to be denied the soak. A half hour of pained wandering until we tracked them down. Not exactly anyone around to ask. Set in a cave they were ecstasy of the highest order. By 3 AM I was moving toward perhaps everything will be okay. Why not? Every once in a while optimism trumps reality.

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

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

Day 115 – My knees are grateful for the Pharmaceutical Industry today

August 25, 2013
40 miles
Mile 2383

Premature to pull the sheet over my face. Came to and tried rotating my left foot. An unwise move. Pain in three of the four compass points. The right knee also felt a mess. Hobbled around Camp a bit in the dark. What to do? Not enough food to rest a day here. So I threw it all together early, dry chewed two Alieve and walked into the fog at 5:45 AM.

A very curious sensation limping with both legs. Tried speeding up into the pain. Too masochistic for my tastes. So I did my best impression of forward progress and waited for change like the rest of the US populace. The morning lightened, as the pharmaceutical industry backed up their marketing. Two elk broke out of the forest and cut the path just in front of me. One with a trophy sized rack. Taking that as my cue I increased pace. My numbed stride held up. Well hell, I stepped on the throttle and took off. Speed from an unexpected freedom lifts the spirits as did regular guest appearances of rainier. At 12 miles I ran into Iceaxe who had also flip-flopped. Named for the five foot iceaxe she uses as a Walking stick, she told of a cabin just a mile up the trail. A destination.

Exploding tree

Mules by cabin, awaiting work assignments

There, was a camping party who used mules as transport. The party was led by Delbert who had camped at this meadow every year since 1957. I made myself at home with a couple of other through hikers and watched a husband-and-wife team try to saddle up a mule. The mule was having none of it and turned hostile. Fascinating to observe the handlers fine line between command and panic as he tried to control a bigger force. In the end he won but it was touch and go for a while.

Eating, as Orbit rolled in. She was smiles as she had expected to be pulling me by rope at this point. Explored the well-built cabin and pushed on. The huckleberries were thick, pick or walk the options. Took the third route. Maintain full stride and try to grab one at a time while keeping that full stride. About a 70% success rate. Walking with the joy brought on by unexpected release from injury. Rounded a corner on the right side of nowhere to a sign that said ” trail magic ahead.” Truth or joke?

Truth. Magic Man was playing magician. Under a big blue awning sat Magic Man talking to a stunned Spitfire. “Welcome. Doughnut? Chocolate milk? Frapuccino? What’s your pleasure?” “All of what you’re doing.” And so we sat and inhaled the unexpected pleasure. Magic Man’s daughter Boo Boo had taken a second shot at the PCT this year but had dropped out because of a stress fracture. “But I still like to do nice things for the other hikers.” The PCT is a magnet for the compassionate. We hung out. I have never eaten a Krispy Kreme donut before. Now I have eaten very many and varied of them. They are medicinal as my leg felt better than ever. Bid farewell and waddled fattened forth. Orbit grinned for miles through her frappestache. Good on you, Magic Man.

We bombed along for miles together exploring the nooks and crannies of each others lives. For four months we have hiked together. Into those four months ten years of friendship have been jammed. Without normal life distractions such things are possible. It has been my pleasure.

A twelve mile dry spell, which was dry because we missed the spring at the start. Alleviated thirst by playing the Picking Huckleberry Game. Which came first the Finn or the Hucklebery? Luckily the sky was gloom and the temperature low. Drizzle began at second lunch, thirty miles in. Feeling my oats. Where to end today? A defunct installation beckoned some ten miles on. A target. Came to a road and yet more ice chest trail magic. A root beer and an orange. There are good people in this section of Washington.

Rainier clears the air

Got to climbing. Arrived in the clouds. The gray swimming through me. Pushing it. Nothing could oppress me at this point. Caught up with orbit at a spring around 7:30. The rain delivered a supplement to the spring. Came across other through hikers setting up in the strengthening rain. Climbed higher yet. The moors turned haunted. My exhalation fog preventing my headlamp from doing its job. And then the mystery installation. Suffice it to say it had a roof, stove and electricity and was shelter from a liquid sky. Will leave it at that. To bed with this thought. When in life do you get three magics in one day? Always there is this three. Nice to be in the bag rather than under the sheet.

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

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

Day 114 – Into the fog I go

August 24, 2013
30 miles
Mile 2343

A dark day before natural dark. But not at the start. Dark days rarely are. Emerged from my tent to find my neighbor was Babyface. He was sharing the path with Dixie. I had met Babyface way back at the KOA Campground in Southern California. I hadn’t laid eyes on him since the Anderson’s. Apparently they had been taking their time and had realized in Sierra City that the storms of winter were approaching. Not wanting to get caught short of the border they had flip-flopped. Which means that they had gone up to the Canadian border and we’re now making their way south back to Sierra City. The chances of an early winter storm reducing with each step. We got caught up and then said goodbye for good by turning in opposite directions.

Llamas dreaming of the Altiplano

Into the fog I go

The early part of the hike was hard going. I was hungry because there had been no dinner. I was sleepy because there had been little sleep. Both conquerable. The bigger challenge was a mishap hangover from the night of meandering. At one point I had twisted my ankle. What became apparent early on in the mornings hike is that I had also sprained a tendon along that ankle. Each step delivered a measure of hostility. Perhaps I should consider limiting night hiking. Came to a river. Rock hopping across I slipped and went in up to my knees. Wet shoes are not a passion of mine. Just as they dried I came to a stream. In again. Not to be my day.

Ranier in summer wear

Lunch spot

The only solace was Mount Rainier playing peekaboo with the clouds. Limped into lunch in a foul humor. Lay down by Dewey Lake and tried to rebound. Fueled up and stretched lunch out as long as possible. Had only managed 16 miles and it was already 2:30. Orbit was sympathetic but couldn’t walk for me. What to do but make small steps towards Canada.

Avalanche route

Climbed past grazing llamas and patches of huckleberries. The crowds thickened as a highway was nearby. The average American walks 300 yards a day so credit to these folks. Missed a turn and took a long loop trail to get back to the PCT. What the hell is going on with my navigational skills? Consolation was the loop trail went up close and personal with rainier. Rejoined the PCT which went blessedly flat for a while. Passed a wedding shoot with the bride wearing a gown, hiking boots and a pack. Then a parking lot jammed with cars. Where were their occupants? Crested a plateau to the answer. I found them wall-to-wall around a small lake. Quite the fiesta.

Ranier in cloud symphony

Climbed yet again to a break in the mountains where Orbit waited with an orange she had found in an ice chest. Her detective skills impressive. Fruit on the trail is worthy of a dancing jig. Higher still. The air turned cold and the fog closed in. Wind blew condensed mist out of isolated trees for a private mini rainstorm. It was all very atmospheric, but my mood darkened. The tendon was knotting up. I slowed to a shuffle. The last 2 miles eternal. Finally big crow basin spring and a camp I was too wiped out to appreciate. Thirty earned miles but little optimism for tomorrow. A quiet dinner as we shared camp with another sleeping camper. Then to bed early with thoughts of sobering implications.

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

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

Day 113 – Lost and in a foul mood

August 23, 2013
23 miles
Mile 2313

As it must, the rain began during REM. Light and gentle. The first response to any minor irritation is to ignore it. Offended the god of rain ratcheted up the intensity a notch. Okay, okay I pulled out my tent and threw it over me as a waterproof blanket. Not the response desired, so crank it up. Alright, already. Shit. So at 3:50 AM we set up tents. Mine went up, but a combination of faulty headlamp and stake resistant earth sent orbit back to the waterproof blanket option. The heavens moved toward Ark phase in frustration. I loaned her my headlamp and convinced her to try a new location. Muttering darkly she got the job done. Satisfied, the rain began to taper away.

Cloud impersonation

The morning light gray, grumpy and antagonistic. All wet including all that I owned. I wrote, Orbit walked. Late out of camp with 12 miles to resupply, and not a calorie on my back, I plunged hungrily through the steam on a mission to a menu. My marching trance was broken by an explosion on my left. Thinking IED I jumped into the right side forest. Adrenaline drenched. A sound like 1,000 swirling swords swished by my left ear. I ducked. The big brown bird I had spooked flew away. Instead of trying to identify it, I contemplated it’s taste.

Don’t remember much of the hike after that. Only that I climbed high onto a ridge and stayed there knowing a shortcut to the White Pass store involved following a chairlift down the ski slope. I turned left at the first chairlift I saw. Premature, as the shortcut trail is actually marked on the PCT. I boogied down. Rainier appeared doing the same cloud imitation song and dance. The chairlift ended. Now what? I just kept following runs downward. Took a couple of black diamond runs. Rusty, but did okay. Eventually the longcut brought me to the promised store.

All my packages were there. Thank you Jill and Cirina. As was extreme hospitality and all that was needed. By the standard set of bizarre circumstances I was down to one sock. Try walking miles with that situation. So thrills with a new pair of socks and the fourth and final pair of shoes. Same model, but a faster color. We ate, Interneted, ate, greeted newly arriving hikers, ate, ground dried possessions and try to guess the rest. Orbit off at five, myself at seven, after journel headway and following the Orioles in a close one.

Headed up the trail and into the dark. My new shoes a cushion of cruising joy but too fast for conditions. Snagged on a root, I gently went down. As the dust cleared I noticed Huckleberry’s near my face. A very pleasant lay down snack. Sometimes in life it’s better to stay down after a knock down then get up for more abuse.

Beware of the longcuts that lurk behind the friendly face of a shortcut

Close to the rendezvous at 10 o’clock I missed an arrow on a sign and turned very wrong. Content, plunging toward Death Valley with a good soundtrack going, the sinking feeling was suppressed. The stop. This is wrong. Out with the GPS. It, as confused as I was by the thick forest, sent me here and there. Now we were jointly lost. Sitdown and think. Time for a massive backtrack to the abusive sign and origin of my inattentiveness. A black humor settled. Five hours and 10 miles. Not one of my shining performances. Finally an arrival post midnight. What to do but set up my shrine of respect to the rain gods and shut it all down. Spent the night chasing lost sleep.

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

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

Day 112 – The long climb to elevation

August 22, 2013
38 miles
Mile 2290

Awoke to winter temperatures at Killin Creek. The great challenge camping is to leave a warm bag for a cold world. But birth must happen. The art is conducting the majority of your morning business from your bag. True masters like Lorax, are completely packed and fed upon exit. I’m not there yet. Far too spread out, my warm steamed away as I gathered gear.

Lightning bolt for speed. Last opportunity for goof around before mandatory respectability at age 50.

We have come upon a new group of through hikers. Mango, Doc H, Robocop, Bird Man, Thunderbolt, Kiddo and Kindergarten Cop to name some. All was downhill through a forest tunnel to start. The path, of fine sand. Mt. Adams stayed behind on good behavior. Orbit saw two elk who bellowed at her. Came to Lava Springs where the water boiled out from beneath a large lava flow. Then a monster ant cone built of pine needles bonded with spit. Later I was to learn they are common in Washington and can grow to five feet tall. This later information did not diminish my earlier discovery delight.

Ant cone with Obrit’s mustard catcher for scale

The hike followed a now established pattern. Hike 10 miles in three hours, 15 minute break, 10 miles, 30 minute lunch, 10 miles, 15 minute break, then the remainder. Sometimes alone, sometimes conversation. Always forward or fueling for forward.

Climbed to a high plateau pocketed with small fetid ponds. Each pond harbored it’s personal squadron of assault mosquitoes. Always they go for the arms. I’ve concluded that the fine hairs on our arms have an evolution developed sensitivity that alerts the brain to mosquito landings. Violent swinging of the arms challenged their landings. But many managed. And many died for that initial success. The agony was the thick huckleberries that one could not stop to pick.

All is going well. An average day on the trail that was about to turn unaverage. But before that came the rain down. Just a spattering rain, but it collected on the overgrown trail. Walking through saturated brush is comparable to being slapped with wet mops. Finally you break down and dig out the rain jacket. Which keeps the rain out, but the sweat it. The end result the same.

First crest of Cesped Pass. Phone camera inadequate for necessary scale

Left the tunnel and began a long, big climb to elevation. Change came at the pace of the push. Now Adam’s reappeared. Surrounded by massive valleys of pines happy to be free of fire. Took the third break of the day at around four PM. Everything still unremarkable but not for long. More climbing, another 1,000 feet, toward Cesped Pass. Over a lip and it all started. Long volcanic ranges capped with spiraling lava fingers burning skyward. Which shadowed massive meadow amphitheaters carpeted in wildflowers. Waterfalls everywhere for effect. Bees serenaded. Neither my eyes nor a camera could take it all in.

Climbed again and the same discovery on yet a grander scale. This time we followed the curve of the bowl hopping waterfalls as we went. I kept thinking so this is what it is like to walk through a postcard. Came to some backpackers camped on a ledge. They had planned to do some long miles but came to this spot and froze. For two days they had been sitting there staring at the view.

Orbit crossing snowfield of pass before Knife Ridge

Started climbing again. This time to a pass at 7,500 feet. Rounded a turn to two backpackers staring at a staring at them Pica. So this was the squeaky toy impersonator. Picture a shrunken Koala on speed. Very cute. They asked us where we were going. “Lutz lake.” “Not today you’re not.” A little alarming so we picked up the pace. Ever upward through meadows populated by pre-Buddhist Bon Rock stupas. Thick with tents all out to see the sunset slam into Mount Adams.

Left the trees and zigzag raced the approaching night. Passed a work crew party and then across the longest snowfield of the trail. Stopping often to smell the view, but the clock was relentless. Finally to the Knife Ridge and awe. No other word. The mountains erupted and captured the sun. High above all, far above the clouds, was an unusual shape. With focus, it was shockingly the summit of Mount Rainier. The scale unreal. I sat down, munched pretzels, and try to soak it into my memory. I pulled out my camera and took a photo before the battery passed away.

view from Knife Ridge in Goats Rock National Forest

These were mountains from dreams. But not a place to sleep. Time to hustle. The trail followed the Knife Ridge for a couple of miles. Up-and-down, across snowfields and avalanche chutes. Slow going, the rock rock slag hostile to feet and progress. A mistake, at times, would translate into a lack of tomorrow’s. A few close calls but mostly just excitement in the greying light. Caught up with orbit at the turn off the Knife Ridge. We shared the last of our snacks and turned downward to the calm.

Sunset finds Mt. Rainier doing an excellent imitation of Mount Fuji in Japan. Time to get off the ridge.

Orbit about to drop into the valley of waterfalls and wildflowers

Still buzzed with the gift of our late crossing, and giddy to be off the ridge we made good progress. Out came the headlamps. A large snowfield on the side of a peak took on the shape of Homer Simpson’s ghost. A sure sign of good exhaustion and bad hunger.

Mount Adam’s sunset show getting ready to start. Crowds not visible.

A truism that is also true. The last miles are the longest. The more we walked, the further Lake Lutz faded into the distance. Finally yelled tag at 9:30. The two established sites were full, so we found our home in the forest.

The last supper before tomorrow’s resupply. I ate everything available, but still remained in caloric deficit. The weather check. Stars buried in blankets of clouds. Too tired to aknowledge the suggestion we cowboy camped. To bed with a smile. For to me, hands-down, the best day of the hike.

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

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

Steve H

Day 111 – Sunset in Three Acts

August 21, 2013
37 miles
Mile 2253

Behind on writing so I stayed in the office longer than usual. Orbit took off around seven. Won’t be seeing her anytime soon. In my opinion she is second-fastest female on the trail this year. All fast twitch muscle. She is quick on the flats and down. But her specialty is uphill, where her speed is of the now-you-see-her-now-you-don’t variety. She actually looks forward to endless uphill slogs, which is demented. In 111 days I’ve never seen her passed. If she didn’t need coffee hourly I probably wouldn’t be able to keep up. Though recently, and ominously, she’s taken to eating spoonfuls of it directly. The last throes of an addiction that will undoubtedly lead her to a 12 step program. She’ll be happy though, as long as the steps are uphill.

Out of camp by 730. The trail empty. Passed through some old growth including a whopper that had to be 20 feet in diameter. Grew bored with myself. Tried talking out loud but feared a slip into insanity. Internal dialogue is one thing but external solo conversation feels crazy right away. Then grew bored with the forest. 10,000 trees cloned. It would be five hours till I saw another human being. Just one of those days you walk into and have to walk out of.

Came to a highway where a local Buddhist temple had left a food cache and blessings. Never heard of monks giving out alms and blessings at the same time. I was impressed though the food had long ago been cleaned out. The patron saint of travelers and people resident in hell looked down on the cache from a shrine. A curious grouping. Perhaps indicative of a destination.

Caught up with Orbit and learned that we were one more day further away from resupply then I thought previously. Have to stretch what I have. Which is possible but psychologically challenging. Suddenly my mind settled on starvation and it’s possibility. Hunger pains began though my stomach was full. The brain is a pain in the ass at times. Luckily the path was in huckleberry season so picking fingers soothed the panic temporarily. How do bears survive on this meager offering?

Central glacier of Mount Adams basking in final light

Started a big climb to 6,000 feet right after lunch. Nodded off a few times but stumbled back to consciousness quickly. Turned to my radio to wake up but it died after 10 minutes. Stuck with me, which I guess is the definition of life. Entered a major burn area on the slopes of Mount Adams. The fire was in 2012. The land was raw and reeked of sour charcoal. A sign warned of falling trees, especially in windstorms. I kept my eye up.

Burnt trees of Mount Adams waiting for the ground

Mount Adams is a big one at over 12,000 feet. A bit annoyed too. I heard three major avalanches as I rounded her base. My goal was killen creek on the opposite flank. I reengaged with the PCT as all grew beautiful. A wallop of a sunset had Adams blushing at its charm. My pace lifted. Rock-hopped a glacial river in the last light. With two miles to go figured I was home free. A miscalculation. Out came the headlamp. The light illuminated a problem. The path was white sand with white rocks protruding. The white light couldn’t distinguish between the two. Progress slowed to an even slower crawl. Over 100 unutterables were screamed. My toes shortened.

A sunset in three acts. Act One.

Act Two.

Act Three.

Alpine glow post sunset

Finally a light. Orbit was on a ridge, high over the camping area, waiting. It seems all the people I didn’t see on the path were in the campground. No room in the inn. So we made do on the ridge. In return for our inconvenience, a smoke cloud rolled in and painted the globe moon orange. That’s what I call a fine consolation.

Peephole or moon shrouded in fire smoke

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

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

Day 110 – Bee stings, mountain lions and bagel mouth

August 20, 2013
36 miles
Mile 2216

A heavy morning sky full of sweat. No rain. But if you listen closely you can hear it gently soaking your worldly possessions. Still warm inside my bag, I lazily left them to their fate. A brightening of the sky my alarm. Time for miles. Out of camp by 730, Orbit earlier.

Directional rays indicating North

Fought my pack’s insistence on returning to a rub spot on my tailbone. I adjusted straps, it worked its way back. Finally gave in and accepted a deepening. Caught up with Spoon Man and shared the trail for a while. Learned of his life dedicated to long walks and bike rides. Each paycheck a step closer to the next adventure. Seasonal work, seasonal passion. He seemed content with the balance.

As I neared Trout Creek I was on alert for the home for wayward and aggressive bees. Never saw it but paid my toll of one sting passage. Immediately found a small flashlight on the trail. Figured someone under assault must’ve dropped it. Carried it forward in pursuit of its owner. Came to a sign warning of mountain lions in the area. Credible through hiker spottings were tacked on. The theory of mountain lions goes as follows. If you see one he isn’t hunting you. If one is eating you, know you were hunted. Thus there is nothing that worry will help and so I don’t bother with it.

A long 3000 foot climb left me searching for diversion. So I watched ants. These days black ones. Since Mexico I have been crossing over and on the lower kingdom of ants. I’ve probably slaughtered thousands with my size 13’s. But if I took my last step on the PCT, and lay down, I am sure their revenge would be complete. I eyed them waiting. Not today amigos. Orbit had picked a sun-drenched spot for lunch with a big view of Mount Adams. I dumped all that was damp and listened to it’s stunned crackling. Orbit napped as I stuffed bagels and cheese down the drop pipe. Slowly my body slid drowsily to horizontal. Woke up remembering I had been eating. Knew this from the bagel in my hand and the chewed bits still in my mouth.

Smurf mushroom

Took a couple of miles to wake up from the sun. Talked for a while with a clean-shaven southbounder. Only later did it dawn on me that it was Scott Williamson, a trail celebrity on par with Billy Goat. He has done the PCT probably more times than I can count on my fingers and toes. His speed record of 64 days only broken this year. A little Hollywood to break up the day. Word is that I passed him on his way to recover his title.

Ladies and gentlemen, our next stop will be Mount Adams

Washington is known for its ups and downs. It delivers. I accepted, unlike the post office. Shooting for a destination at 36 miles, I needed some assistance. Put on the radio and listened to an hour of commercial free music out of Portland. Starting at five it was aimed at easing the commute from work. Why not? I’m applicable. My work is commuting and avoiding crashes.

Pushed by the beat I arrived home at a very early 8 o’clock. An easy commute today. Joined Sharon who was introducing her son Roman to the joys of backpacking. His demeanor pointed to a future PCT through hiker. They graciously shared their fire and even boiled up some water for my dinner. Orbit arrived grinning with donated gummy bears. We passed the evening swapping tales with our hosts. A bulging moon came up and chased shadows across the landscape. Our cue. Good night and good bed.

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

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

Day 109 – Now I understand “going postal”

August 19, 2013
25 miles
Mile 2180

Conditioned to wake up at 5 AM by the howler monkeys of Costa Rica it has become my natural alarm. Back to the grind of toil, for it was Monday and the start of the work week. Rough days on the trail are often greeted with, “It beats working.” A concurrence.

Plugged away till 8:30 when the post office would consent to give up my packages. Fueled by leftover jalapeno breakfast pizza, I smiled at the postmaster and asked for my bounce box and food package sent by a friend. “Just the one.” “No, two.” “Just the one.” Investigation, UPS reported the package undeliverable. Why? Back to the postmaster, “Oh, I refuse any UPS or FedEx package sent general delivery because there is no money in it for the post office.” Charge a fee to pick it up. I replied, “That way everybody gets what they want and the post office makes money. Your way, nobody gets what they want and the post office makes nothing.” He smiled and said, “No.” I fumed homicidal as my jalapenos attempted backflips. Peter principle in action. I witnessed three incidents that morning of the postmaster explaining refused packages.

I let it go and went food shopping. But it kept coming back to poke at me. Packed up and hugged my bed goodbye. Our parting emotional with shared grief. Bench sat in front of the hotel in respect of checkout time while Orbit ran last errands. The poking continued. The lightbulb illuminated. My sister had sent my passport to the tiny Steheekin post office via general delivery. The black thought was she had sent it via UPS. A call to the Steheekin post office confirmed this much. Yeah, UPS delivers by boat. They just throw the packages on the dock. We have nothing to do with it. So my passport is just sitting on the dock? Yeah, hope it doesn’t rain. Now I know what an onsetting ulcer feels like.

Religious sign. Note PCT trail symbol on right

Playing bridge chicken

Crossed the Bridge of the Gods into Washington. The 50 Cent pedestrian fee waved for through hikers. The upbeat toll collector said “Make sure to walk against traffic.” There being no sidewalk. A large paddlewheel steamer passed underneath. I placed myself in another century until I saw two paddle borders riding wake. I chewed on donated cherries, dodged traffic and asked the gods of the bridge for help. Apparently the gods had also suffered package abuse for I had my answer by Washington. Called the Steheekin post office and privately contracted a postal worker for dock passport watch.

A better century

Surf where you can find it

Back to the simplicity of the forest. Altitude wise, the Columbia River flows at under 1000 feet. “C” stands for crest. The disparity engulfed my afternoon. Blackberries sweetened it. The radio softened it. A comedy sketch came on. The Black Angus restaurant has a nationwide team on high alert in case the G goes out with any of its signs. Or this from the DJ after playing U2 during a string of commercial free music. “I got no problem pulling out my Bono in the middle of a set.” It’s hard to laugh and climb at the same time.

Hood receding into PCT history

Ran into a number of new to us through hikers. An advantage of moving up the pack is meeting new people. Crossed paths with Dora and thanked her for the tall boys. A Southbounder Zeke La Freak warned me of a hornets nest down on the trail. Every passerby encountered a sting. I contemplated strategies. More climbing. Various ailments started seeping their way into my consciousness. Aging a detriment. Caught up with Orbit and swapped stories to distract.

A familiar pattern returned. Dark and no home. 9:30 again and my jalapenoes wanted company. Tired. A side trail. We rolled the dice. Came up lucky. A large flat spot with no checkout time. Stomach topped off and to the horizontal. Didn’t crack the book, didn’t count the stars, just closed my eyes to the end of the day. Ready for the repair of sleep.

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

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

Day 108 – Morning sunrise, sunset to a friend

August 18, 2013
25 miles today
Mile 2150

Sunrise from below

Morning was cold as we had slept higher than the sun. The sunrise from below, slow to warm. We left the village in shifts of pairs. Being the second shift we were out by 6:30 AM. I thought of the night. I had difficulty letting go of the day as I had learned, with signal, of the early death of an acquaintance.

Early morning hiking

Finally fell asleep, but was awakened by a cacophony of snoring and flatulence. Everyone seemed to be on it. Thru hikers are probably the only subset of American society where farting is both openly accepted as necessary and as a method of informed commentary. By the way the average American male farts 14 times a day, females 11 times a day. I would consider thru hikers to be above average folks.

Goodbye Hood

Mount Saint Helens topless

Stayed high for 6 miles, giving Mount Hood its due every break in the trees. Then a flip-flop to the other side of the ridge brought me to a talus slope. Suddenly the earth gave up a big view. Starting on the left, the decapitated Mount Saint Helens. Though because of poor behavior her saint status should be reconsidered. Center, Mount Adams. And to the right Mount Rainier. I grabbed a handful of raspberries and took in the show.

Orbit decimating blackberry population

Decided to take the eagle creek alternate which routes away from the PCT for 15 miles. It passes through the densest concentration of high waterfalls in North America. Who can resist waterfalls? A spring rest, followed by a big fall straight down a ridgeline. Impossible not to exceed the speed limit. Eventually the pounding stopped as the trail joined the creek and it’s more gentle wandering. Waterfall after fall vied for attention. No two alike. Can a waterfall ever be boring? At times the trail cut into solid cliff to scoot around narrow falls. And the highlight, tunnel falls. A high tight cascade approached on a three sided rock cut trail. A misstep on the fourth side would be unfortunate. Standing back to watch, I saw Orbit approach the falls, walk into it and come out the other side. A tunnel being both the secret and namesake.

Orbit on the edge

Tunnel Falls

Orbit about to disappear

And reappear

The crowd thickened as it was a Sunday of respite. Came to Punchbowl Falls with its big pool running deep. Climbed down to a leap point but a posted personal narrative of crushed vertebrae changed our thinking. Canada being our primary responsibility. The temperature moved up and the trail stretched long. The path rocky and intent on chipping bone. Finally the crowded parking lot and the relief of asphalt walking. Joined an old touring road for when cars toured, now converted into a bikepath. It’s borders thick with neglected blackberries . We paid attention.

The Bridge of the Gods is the gateway to Cascade Locks

The bike path led into the town of Cascade Locks, the last whistle stop in Oregon. Unwashed and non-presentable we secured shelter and food in close order and proximity. A shower, sediment flowing into a hole. And then a tackle of a backload of work from the softest office bed I’ve ever had the pleasure of. I couldn’t stop sighing. Meanwhile orbit watched Rainman. I swear she came up with the toothpick answer before Dustin Hoffman’s character did. At midnight I shut it down and burrowed in.

I held off sleep as long as possible just to savor the kindness of a civilized mattress. I’m sure I slept smiling.

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

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

Stories from Steve

Steven "Blast" Halteman – Author, Adventurer

Monthly Archives: September 2013

Day 116 – Is this how it ends?

Day 115 – My knees are grateful for the Pharmaceutical Industry today

Day 114 – Into the fog I go

Day 113 – Lost and in a foul mood

Day 112 – The long climb to elevation

Day 111 – Sunset in Three Acts

Day 110 – Bee stings, mountain lions and bagel mouth

Day 109 – Now I understand “going postal”

Day 108 – Morning sunrise, sunset to a friend