Category Archives: Escuela Verde

Day 91 – Walking through the Stars

August 1, 2013
51 miles
mile 1723

The cathedral bells sounded at the appointed hour and I groaned enthusiastically. Orbit was in the same boat and already stirring. Needing coffee kept her in camp longer, so I was first to the trail. The plan was 40 miles give or take. On the trail by 4 AM and manufacturing miles. My strategy for a big day is to throttle back just a little and not push hard. That way the miles still come but without the accompanying exhaustion. Long hours will take care of the distance. And eat a lot, and then eat some more. I once gained 2 pounds during a 100 mile race so I know of what I speak.

Alpine desert at dark 30

Moved along in my private bubble of light feeling alone and content in the world. Every once in a while I shut off the light and went to still. The vast quiet electric. But the best part is the melding of the night sky with the forest. To me, in normal hours, the sky is remote and separate from the world I live in. I have no connection to it. But at 4:30 AM, on top of a mountain, I feel like I’m walking through the stars. I’ll leave it at that.

Dawn at 10 miles

The stages of light arrived. In procession. I began to be able to make out the animals behind the glowing eyes. I followed one deer’s tracks down the path for more than three miles. Orbit caught up to me and then the deer, a six-point buck. For whatever reason, the early miles a burden, but I kept gently pushing and aggressively eating. The milkshakes finally wore off and my pace picked up. As I passed through a long meadow and it’s resident crows, I realized that I would soon leave California after 88 days and 1698 miles of trail. What a great, and very long state. My thanks for the hospitality and good times.

Orbit becomes an Oregon resident

Yep

Welcome to the hotel Oregon. Such a lovely place, such a lovely place. Signed the register after 26 miles and walked into Oregon. Was it Orbit or I first mentioned a half-century as we entered Oregon. Probably it’s best to blame Orbit as she is the more fanatical hiker. But really why not 50 miles? The math worked, I think. Or at least she said so. I just kept going, which is the only way I know of to pileup miles.

A big event. Collided with the first southbound hiker of the season. His name was Bobcat. Had a great chat comparing notes. He was shooting to arrive at the Mexican border by the end of September. He told us that there were about 80 northbound hikers in front of us. This made sense as we were running into fewer and fewer hikers on the trail. We parted on opposite paths not to meet again.

At mile 43

The path kept climbing, eventually depositing us on a barren ridge line. The wind picked up and threw haze and clouds over the crest. The sun dimmed and we cut through it all. Forty miles came and went. The temperature went down the stairs into the basement. I put my down jacket on. The atmosphere turned a good spooky. And then, Eureka, a catch of warm mountain dew at mile 43. Caffeine breeds adrenaline. A long downhill breeds speed. Adrenaline plus speed equals goal arrival. How’s that for algebra?

That goal was the Ashland Inn. The night took over. The day began with headlamps and would end with them. I came upon Orbit stopped on the trail. The tracks on the path plus noises in the bush plus darkness made company a good idea. I agreed. In good spirits, our yapping was wide-ranging as we closed in on the Inn. It’s menu ever-expanding in our optimistic imagination. The path itself began to collect its toll. A cut here, a stubbed toe there, but it didn’t matter because the beer was going to be delicious. Or not.

Collapsing meadow house as Oregon border approaches

The Inn was a shadow within a shadow. A table and a tap was all that was available. On them the sign read welcome PCT hikers. Enjoy but no camping. What to do but push on. All went to slope. Finally a dip to a road. There, some flat bordering an ominous looking fence. A close examination of the sign on the fence. “If you can read this you are within range.” Maybe not this flat. Kept putting the nose northward. Tired now. All the dew used up. And then a cairn. And some steps up a slope. And a home. 10:30 PM. 51 miles in the bank after 18 hours on the move. Right on. A blurred dinner and my next memory was the sunrise.

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 90 – Blackberries being the theme of the day

July 31, 2013
27 miles
miles 1672

All left early, but I remained in my office. Down until my constitution, location limited to a long straight dirt road. Looking back I discovered a misperception. Alone I was not. Rabbit Stick remained in his red sleeping bag, yellow pack to the side. The walk to constitutional liberation turned long. There were no curves,. Privacy required passing the horizon. The mandates of decorum met, I returned to pack. As I passed Rabbit Stick I said good morning to a red log and an old, rusted out, yellow gas can. Hallucinations, both real and imagined, are ever present in the forest.

Packs awaiting mules

Shortcut

All downhill to Seid Valley, accompanied by the crash of Creekwater. I sped up as there were burgers and shakes in that Yonder Valley. Passed over a wooden culvert held together barrel style with metal straps. Ancient beyond me. Emerged from the forest and onto a dirt road which then morphed into asphalt. Road walking is free from obstacles so I left reality behind. Wondered around in my thoughts picking and choosing. Brought back to reality after an hour or so by a sense of desire. The road was lined with blackberries. Few walk these roads, so they were all there for me, and free, so I took more than three. The burgers could wait as I ate my way to stomach pain distention.

Sometimes the PCT follows a road

Dyed purple I strolled across the Klamath River and into the Seid Valley Café where I ordered a blackberry shake on a trend. And kept on ordering lunches and shakes. Full past full, I went outside to the picnic table to plan my resupply for the next 2 1/2 days. There are two theories of resupply. Buy as you go or send packages of food to yourself at prearranged destinations. I am of the former. The picnic table was crowded with the latter. The surplus bountiful. I was handed enough of the leftover bounty to accomplish my resupply without entering the store.

You never know what you will see on the trail

The sun had turned hot, as the 4,000 foot climb got underway out of Seid Valley. A fire had burned off the forest umbrella so that same sun went to work on my milkshakes. Between too much food at lunch and the new food in my pack I felt like I was pulling a Vons shopping cart behind me. To pass the time I thought about Rabbit Stick’s age numbers. He basically found two significant age groups on the trail. People in their 20s just starting out in their careers, lives etc. And retired people in their 60s. The youngest on the trail he had run into 18, the oldest 75. People in my age group 35 to 50 the rarest because we were enmeshed in capitalism and family. To confirm his findings I thought of all who I was hiking with. All of Orbit and Sons were in their 20s, myself the elder. Thinking of all this did divert the intensity of the sun but it never lightened the cart.

In Costa Rica, it’s known as the tourist tree because it resembles a peeling nose

Spring surrounded by flat called a halt to the day and relief to my pull. We shared our campsite with a trail maintenance crew from AmeriCorps’s. A guitar appeared. Good night turned cold in apology for its counterparts excess. The conversation centered on sustainable building practices. I learned about a new method that involved ramming earth into tires. And then a realization. The post office in Ashland, Oregon was closed on Saturday. To receive and send my bounce box as well as send out resupply boxes for Oregon would require a full postal day. It was Wednesday night, and 55 miles to Ashland. To arrive in Ashland on Friday morning would require a big Thursday. A post office run was called for. The alarm was set for 3:30 AM. The motor revved. Time to put all those shakes to good use.

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 89 – Mio my, all jacked up

July 30, 2013
29 miles
mile 1645

Late to the trail because pen was in hand. My pledge to hike first snapped. Writing at night infeasible for too many reasons to recount. So the cows and I to the trail at 9:30. Their bells providing the rhythm. Why the bells? To scare the bears or make locating them easier were my best guesses. They stopped at the next lake. I kept going. The early trail rough going. Complicated and full of rocks, it required concentration and two-foot drive. I gave it that, as my last fall still smarted.

The trail today followed a narrow altitude band, the floor 6,000 feet, the ceiling 7,000 feet. But within the band it resembled a dribbling basketball. So my progress was honest. The fire in Southern Oregon was still funneling smoke into the local atmosphere so I probably averaged about a pack of cigarettes every 10 miles. Tried to enjoy them, as well as the vistas and scenery, but my hiking was manic. The culprit—mio.

Two foot drive track

For those of you not in the know, mio is a water additive. Every day on the trail I cycle liters of water through my system. The taste, especially with water purifying drops, monotonous or nasty. Mio saves the day. A few squirts and suddenly I’m drinking berry pomegranate juice. That’s a smile bringer. Anyway, at the last store only cherry mio with caffeine was available. So today I was slugging what looked like Sangre de Cristo. Not being interested in the taste, theory or habit of coffee I rarely have caffeine in my system. Thus my supercharged hiking up and down the basketball pattern was mysterious to me as was my decision to walk right through lunch. When I finally sat down at two to eat my heart was still racing. I had caught up with Orbit and Slack, who were relaxing around a cabin. I couldn’t stop talking. Slowly it dawned on me, I was completely jacked up on Mio, my future drug of choice.

Good looking hills

I had entered the Marble Valley, that lay in the shadow of Marble Mountain. A white edifice that resembled the White Cliffs of Dover. Of interest in Dover, the first four blocks inland from the shoreline would have a rowhouse missing here or there. I asked a local “why?” “Oh, the Germans had a big gun in France whose maximum range was four blocks inland here. They would lob a shell over now and then to let us know who was boss. We never rebuilt to remember.”

Came across three spooked female hikers. They jumped when I rounded the bend. Apparently they had come upon two separate bears in one hour. What luck, I had seen one bear in three months. Having left the cabin at three there were some miles still left to cover. We hiked as a group taking turns at lead. The air purer there as we were all ravaged by methane. I stopped for a second. From my angle I spotted an ancient canteen that had been left under a bush probably in the 60s. It was tin and the canvas covering had rotted away. I displayed it on a rock pedestal for those to come.

Triple tree

With conversation as a distraction, the miles dissipated. The path helped as it began a 22 mile descent into Seid Valley. The pace quickened. It felt like five miles an hour, an insane speed. Well you had to be there. Pulled up at Buckhorn Spring in the shadow of a triple tree. Loaded up with water for a dry camp and plunged. Arrived into final camp at 8:30. There Swiss Army, Storytime and Rabbit Stick were already laid out.

The State of Jefferson lives on

Rabbit stick was gathering ages of all the hikers he came across searching for an average. So far it was around 28 years old. Today we tried to come up with all the names of the hikers we had met. Made it to 110 trail names. Back to Rabbit Stick. He was the first American and 11th overall to row across the Atlantic. It took him five months of unsupported rowing to arrive in Florida from Africa. In his head he meticulously restored over 200 Ford model A’s in those five months to keep mentally occupied. He found that preferable to tackling the big questions of life. At 70 now he looks like he’s ready to row back. Inspired, as I lay down, I hummed “row row your boat” as my lullaby ticket to dreamland. And, no, I did not consider repeating his feat. Really.

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 88 – In memory of Pat

July 29, 2013
10 miles
mile 1616

PCT annual conference post ice cream

The usual mammoth town breakfast lured us from bed. An early start back to the trail dismissed without discussion. All to errands and resupply. Having to print, sign and fax a document sent me hunting. The library closed, I despaired. I asked the checkout lady at the supermarket. “Oh, go down to the Shell station, walk in the back office, ask for Shana, and tell her Marilyn sent you.” I love small towns. On the way down main street I passed a deer eating a front yard. Assuming it was a pet I tried to pet it. It wasn’t.

Shana took care of my business in a saintly way. She refused payment and said “just pass it on.” Living near the PCT makes people very nice. Packed up by noon and headed for the old-fashioned soda fountain for a chocolate malt. There hikers gathered like flies on….ice cream. The day drifted. The magnet for nonmovement a free barbecue in the park that evening. We tried to break away and made it to the pizza joint next door. A simple meal and then we go. Damn, it had a pool table and beer. The struggle to depart crushed.

And then a hand from the heavens. The woman running the restaurant offered us a ride to the trailhead when she closed up shop at 3:30. Fate beckoned, and we helped her shut things down. A sad farewell to the boys. I motivated them by leaving the first half of a novel. May their testicles soon return to even harmony. A quick drive up, filled with stories of a lifelong Etnaite and then we were back at it.

Unfortunately, my water bottle returned to Etna. Always a problem, do I have, with water bottles. Thus my first 10 miles were waterless. The hike was cool as the Earl Grey fire skies screened out the sun. Slack and I had a long conversation about the transitional point in life he found himself in at the age of 21. I did my best with answers.

Purple haze

Haze daze

Bells heralded our arrival in camp. A large herd of cows being busy polluting the only water source. Dinner and to bed early in an attempt to recapture sleep lost to horseshoes. The bells rang on. I pretended I was in Switzerland, which made the sound romantic, and led to my desired destination.

In memory of Pat Taylor who died today. Pat told me that there was a speed between walking and running. I laughed at her. Then she showed me on a furious hike up the San Francisco peaks. “What the hell are you doing?” I screamed from behind. But I wasn’t laughing anymore nor was I keeping up. In essence Pat taught me how to hike the PCT before I even knew what it was. Everyday I do my Pat Taylor impersonation on the PCT in appreciation. Today I added a rock to my pack. I’ll carry her to Canada and leave her at the trailhead. It’s the best I can do.

So Pat, piss on traditional dying. Keep on hiking like you have a naysayer on your tail. The image I’ll keep is of you pulling away and disappearing round the bend.

Sunset attempt

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!

Update – Mile 740 on June 10th

Note to all of Steve’s friends following his incredible adventure!

Just wanted to update you on Steve’s progress. He is still in California, but is in a “no cell” zone and has been for a few days. He was able to send me a quick email on June 10th. (I was hounding him for news and, like many of you reading his blog, was wondering how he was doing!) Here’s what he said:

“I’m alive at 10,500 feet will try to send everything if I can ever get to a place working blowing 100 miles an hour mile 740”

From this message, I am gathering he was about a day’s walk from Lone Pine, but assuming he would not want to go 22 miles off the trail to access the town (see the map below):

PCT Map: Steve’s location on June 10th, Mile 740, just North of Ash and Bear Meadows,

At an average of 22 miles per day, and assuming he stayed on the PCT, that would put him somewhere near mile 784 at his starting point this morning, which would be in the John Muir Wilderness area near Silver Lake.

Map of the PCT, mile marker 844 near Silver Lake. Estimating that this is where Steve is on the morning of June 13th!

Let’s see how accurate I am! I’m sure we’ll be hearing from him again very soon.

Meanwhile, please remember that he is doing this to raise money for the Escuela Verde in Costa Rica. Thank you to all of you who have donated. He really appreciates it. The link is below for anyone interested in learning more about how to help these great kids!

A big thank you and a shout-out to Half-Mile for providing all these great maps to the PCT. If you’d like to check them out more closely so you can monitor Steve’s progress, visit Half-Mile’s site here.

Thanks for following Steve Halteman’s journey for the kids of Escuela Verde.
Cirina Catania
Webmaster, Stories from Steve

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 29 – Walking with Scorpions

May 31, 2013
23 miles today
550 Miles total

Gravel pile also known as sandblaster

The wind gathered strength thru the night turning into a menace. I camped behind a bunker in an effort to escape the nearby giant gravel pile that was being turned into a sand blaster. At some point, I had to take a leak. Standing straight in the blasting wind, was a challenge. Suddenly it began to rain. The impossibility of setting up a tent in this wind hit me hard. Some seconds later, I realized the updraft between my legs was causing my urine to arc upward and hit me in the face erektile-apotheke.de. I was so relieved that I didn’t have to set up my tent. A little face pee was minor in comparison.

The aqueduct continued to be our guide to the next water stop. The sun was hot so we rested. I took off my hat and Brad, a fellow hiker, pointed out that I had a scorpion on my head. I asked him to knock it off with a stick. It was one of the smaller, nasty breed and also dead. I believe it was in my hat and had cooked over the last seven miles. Fire, plague and pestilence. What next?

No sign of the fire in the morning, but by the time I had climbed up through an endless wind farm it had returned to form. We learned eight miles of the PCT were now closed.

Wildfire day two

Orbit and Doc were still stuck at the Andersons with no way to catch up other than a twenty mile road walk around the eight mile section. I slogged on as the heat built, and the wind, so brave in the night, shunned air conditioning the day. I cursed not carrying more water, but at 8.5 lbs per gallon, it is a burden to the back and mind. I figure one liter per ten miles works for me. As long as the urine is clear, copious, and not in your face, all is good.

Finally arrived at Tylerhorse Canyon and its blessing of a stream. Had lunch, calculated the miles to my destination (short) and turned siesta into a verb with a number of others. Woke up and moved on. Came to a steep canyon that with a bridge would be a 400-yard walk, but was a one hour down and up without one. The desert around, as always, so beautiful in its simplicity.

Received a shout out message from Walter Menck with his usual excess of style. It made me laugh through a mile of climbs.

What a hell of a day. Pissed in my face, groomed a Scorpion, and went to bed with an owl that kept asking the same question. I give thanks.

Sleeping on a river

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!

Gear – Pt. 2

Most ultralight gear is hidden on the internet and not really available in brick retailers. You have to dig and listen to other backpackers weighing in, which is what I did. Thus most of my gear is pretty standard in terms of the ultralight approach.

Two items are, however, unusual and deserve mention:

ITEM #1:

The Vargo Woodburning Stove- Most backpackers cook with some kind of fuel. It’s messy, heavy and, yes, has a tendency to run out. On the other hand, a chef can adjust the heat and cook along recipe lines. I figured I’d burn everything anyway, so why not do something fun? Dinner will go something like this: Set up wood burning stove in two seconds, add tinder and sticks thru door. Put cup of water on. Boil water. Pour over something and eat it. Sounds good from my sofa.

ITEM #2:

This one is a little more out there. Shitting in the woods is simple. Dig a hole out of the way and go shitting in the woods with toilet paper. It’s complicated. What to do with it? Bury it in the hole? No, as it often gets dug up by animals and then it gets blown around and always in your direction. Blowing TP in the wilderness is a damning statement on mankind. So you carry it out. Yeah, very pleasant ziploc bag on that one. So here is what I have come up with. Never go anywhere without it. Give them as a Christmas present.

What is it? The humble 9 oz. lavette bottle. Also known as the perineal irrigation bottle. A manual version of the heated Japanese toilet water jet. I just call it like it is – the Ass Blaster. Shit, squeeze and shoot from desired angle, eight ounces will clean you right up, and drip dry. Cover up a hole and get back to the trail. Weight: 0.9 oz. Cost: $1 -$2. Available on Amazon. No need for TP. A real game changer. Maybe a revolution is in order.

Steve Halteman
San Diego, California
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

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

Gear – Pt. 1

Or what to bring? Or how to bring angst into your life by dwelling on the unknowable? What do you need and what do you want are separated by a gulf of pounds. This is the angst.

Some background. Picture a banana. At one end of the curve is bring nothing. At the other end is bring everything. These are absurdist extremes. Every backpacker will land on the curve somewhere between. The current popular movement in backpacking circles is called ultralight. This refers to the base weight of your pack. The base weight means the weight of your fully loaded backpack minus your food, water, fuel and clothes you are wearing. To be ultralight, the base weight must be under 10 lobs. To be sub-ultralight, it must be under 5 lbs. On the banana scale that is moving toward the nothing end of the spectrum. In the past, I’ve carried packs with a base weight of over 40 lbs. I think there was a live animal somewhere in there. (The top laugh getter on a long backpacking trip is to secretly and steadily add rocks to your buddies’ pack over the course of several days. Get it?)

So where am I? I’ve spent days researching ultralight gear. As I want to move away from the bring everything philosophy. But I want to retain some measure of comfort over the next four months or so. The angst returns as the banana ride continues.

I won’t bore you with every detail of what I settled on, but here are the big four.

Shelter:
Hexamid solo tarp
(weight – 1 lb. 2.3 oz)

Sleeping:
Jacks are Better down sleeping quilt
1/8″ thick sponge mattress
Full-length Thermarest inflatable air mattress
(weight – 2 lbs. 11 oz)

Backpack:
Gossamer Gear Mariposa
(weight – 1 lb. 11 oz)

Kitchen:
Vargo titanium woodburning stove
Vargo .9 liter titanium pot
Ziploc 4-cup mixing cup
chopsticks
Lexan spoon
mini lighter
mini swiss army knife
(weight – 14.5 oz)

TOTAL WEIGHT: 6.42 lbs

Add in the rest of the gear and my base weight settles in right at 14.5 lbs on the banana curve. I’ll let you know how that works out for me, but when food and water are added, I should end up in the upper 20’s pound-wise.

Steve Halteman
San Diego, California
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

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

Why?

The conversation runs along these lines. So what are you up to? I’m about to hike the PCT. What’s that? ( 3 out of 10 have heard of the PCT) Explanation. Then a fork in the conversation. One third of the responses generally circle around the word “awesome”. Two thirds of responses center on “why”. Which is usually followed by some measure of profanity, and then a brief analysis of my mental state.

The later response is a fair one. Why walk a long distance when you don’t have to? Funny thing is I haven’t really thought about it. I just know I want to do it. So my answer is usually something smart ass like ” I’ve always wanted to see Canada slowly.” But really, why? I’m going to go away for awhile and think about it.

Back. Here is what I came up. Two reasons.

1) Simplify. I once read a suicide note that said ” I couldn’t simplify myself.” The guy had something and I hope he rests in peace. The modern world rams complexity into our lives. With every advance that promises to make our lives easier we feel more overwhelmed professionally and personally. Our efficiency increases but our free time decreases. We are constantly reachable but what about down time? Some people revel in the complex nature of our current world. I see a treadmill, ever faster.

To jump off for a while I’m going hiking. A return to simplicity. How so? Well first you stuff your world in a bag on your back. The lighter the better. All the clutter of your day to day life left and forgotten. Then you make your way toward something. A sample day from the simple life.

Get up. Dig a hole for morning constitution. Pack up. Walk for an hour. Stop for a cold breakfast. Walk until late afternoon, snacking constantly on garbage ( or in my case seaweed). Rest when needed. Stop an hour or so before dark and cook dinner. Walk some more. As dark arrives, set up camp and go to sleep. Get up. Repeat. Very simple.

To some that holds zero attraction, to me that is pure charisma in motion. My external day takes on a rhythm that is almost musical. Up and down, flat, high points and low all accompanied by a steady pace. But again and again the pace is disrupted by something sudden. An animal being chased through the brush or a lightning bolt hitting a ridgeline. At times you run into others and chat, other times alone for hours or even days. But overall a calmness settles over movement. Walking all day is the most relaxing thing I know how to do. The nomads have it right.

2) Alone time. Lots of it. Time for brain chess. Time for reintroductions and rebooting to and of oneself. Time to rethink my perspective and outlook. As I approach 50 I feel I’ve lost touch with who I am. Pretty normal for my age group. And my response of staying busy and productive pretty normal too. But not satisfying, not even close. I’m still pretty much who I’ve always been. And that has grown stale. What I’d like to do is figure out how to accept myself in my current state or evolve and change. Whether I succeed or fail it will probably be one hell of a brain workout. At a minimum it should push back the onset of Alzheimers by a year or two.

So why do I hike? See long answer above. Maybe I should just stick with wanting to see Canada slowly. Anyway at least I now know why. The walk is the destination, not the Canadian border.

Steve Halteman
San Diego, California
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

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

An Asian Approach to the PCT

Getting organized. Not my strong suit. Over the last month or so I’ve collected my gear, but put off the dread. That being food. Love to eat it, don’t love to make it. Nor do I enjoy figuring out how calories per ounce and thus how many ounces of this or that per day I must ingest. The PCT kindly requests that you consume between 4000 and 6000 calories per day. If you ignore this request you’ll be ready for a fashion shoot by the Canadian border. So I’m in a bind. Can’t cook, need to eat and wondering how many jars of peanut butter one can consume in a given day before the jaw joints are pulverized. Impasse.

My dilemma was solved by an impulse. As i drove down the road with my sisters and nieces one day I saw this sign. “Rancho 99 Asian Food Market” Enlightenment through advertising. “Right I thought, my answer is to shake things up.” So I pulled in, went in, and filled a cart. My young nieces assisted by gathering random products and saying “here uncle steven, eat this!” Why not, it takes a village. Money spent brings commitment. The first few weeks on the trail will be an Asian buffet. I’ve seen Asian meals prepared before, so my learning curve shouldn’t be too steep. Hands on, I’ve made ramen in school. I’m optimistic. Though some of the package instructions for cooking I’ve looked at are simplistic to the point of doubt. Twenty lines of Japanese characters followed by the word “boil.” And my metric measurement skills are shaky. I will persevere. And when persevering fails I will invent. And I will eat my Asian creations because there are no alternative food trees is the desert. Hunger will trump palet in every hiking situation (or fuckuation as my Aunt Pat loves to say.)

Steve Halteman
San Diego, California
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

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