Category Archives: On the Road

Day 85 – Owiiiieee! And then I fight with the rocks.

July 26, 2013
30 miles
Mile 1555

Hitching out of Mount Shasta

Up at six. For whatever reason, the sunrise had wings. Decided to shake up my hiking strategy. Condensed, I’m going to put the hike first. Get up and go. Everything secondary to movement. So I skipped writing and was on the path by 6:30. My goal, 30 miles every full hiking day, as long as my knee cooperates. We will see, which sounds much better in Spanish – Vamos a ver.

Flying sunrise

Enjoyed hiking through the cooler hours. Passed a couple of hikers that I had passed a couple of days before. My pace is quicker, but their superior ability to limit town exposure will have us arriving in Canada at roughly the same time. Savored the light show that brings the world into focus every morning. Ran out of water long before the 9 miles had passed to the next water source but the coolness kept me from uncomfortable. Still it was nice to see the wildflowers that always surround a spring.

Owwiiieee !

Lunch was at Deadfall Creek around mile 17. As I put mile 16 in the books my mind and stomach were already sitting down to dine. My left foot, however, was still in the present, which was a rock that halted it’s forward progress. A backpacker is by nature top-heavy. Two things happened simultaneously. I tilted forward. And my right foot rushed North to compensate. The rush ended quickly when the right foot met the rocks ambush twin. Nothing left but the fall from grace. Managed to get my hands, but not the necessary unutterable, out. The landing was hard and skidding. I lay stunned for a long time listening to the rocks I dislodged rolling down the hillside. Took note of the blood on the trail and a deer upwind grinning at me. Got up very slowly and searched for the bloods exit points. My arms and hands were torn up and a couple of good shots to the ribs but I would walk on. The anger welled. I tore the offenders from the earth and threw them down the hill wishing they were full of nerve endings like me.

Tornado forming?

Stumbled to the creek in a foul humor. There I ran into a group of senior day hikers who showed compassion for my dirty, bloody wreck by loading me with leftovers. The trail taketh and giveth away. I cleaned up in the creek and then gorged. Orbit rolled in and we caught up as the weather entered into its own foul humor. Pushed on to Chilkoot Creek as the rain came down. Rain jacket to body and all critical backpack material stuffed in a large trash bag liner. It being July the rain naturally turned to hail. Into the mix entered thunder and then lightning. Timed to my crossing of a pass. The mother of nature having issues with me today.

The hail starts

Hail carpet

I raced for a home that was low. Robbers Meadow appeared and that is where I called it. Tapped out to the weather. Set up in the rain and easing hail. My core was wet and iced so I got in my bag and hid for an hour. Wild gusts of wind tried to collapse my tent. I wondered why not a tornado? Finally the shooting stopped and it was safe to crawl back into the world.

Bed for the night

Found enough dry wood under a tree to get my stove going. The fact that dinner was hot was more important than its taste. I looked up. Nature, with its short-term memory, serene to all horizons with stars. I watch the various airplanes fly at each other, but the real show was the vastness of space free from artificial light. Eventually I found it overwhelming and returned to my sleeping bag and death row.

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 84 – Climbing fortresses with waterless water bottles

July 25, 2013
19 miles
Mile 1525

Focused to the morning feeling like a kid sleeping in Mom and Dad’s backyard. The big adventure over. A breakfast with the four of us, a departure of three. Red to stay on in Mount Shasta nursing his shinsplints another day. Some last-minute shopping and communicating with the outside world. Farewells with Red and plans to meet again in Oregon. A move towards an on-ramp to the I-5 slowed by last grasps at the products of a manufacturing society. In a couple of miles there will be nothing to buy—a consumers panic.

At the on-ramp we share space with a woman going further than us. Eventually she gives up. We wait in the sun, putting effort into looking harmless. At the mercy of the mercy of others. Finally our PCT sign resonates with a local and we’re on our way. We talked with the driver about life in Mount Shasta. He gets high, which requires both hands. I note that no one is driving. Being interested in myself in the days to come, I grab the wheel and steer. He nods appreciatively through the smoke. And so we arrive at the trailhead at noon.

Castle Crag

A warm day. A long exposed climb. Not much water. The trail in summary. Orbit and Slack decide to wait out the heat. Being solar powered, I push on. Slowly I wrap around Castle Crag, it’s stone buttresses impressive and impenetrable to a potential invading force. The trail trend always toward the sun. By days end the climb will have involved 4,500 feet.

Fortress built to repulse invading hordes

I arrive at a spring carrying a waterless water bottle. refill and drink a half gallon. Always carry my water bottle in my hand because it makes my pack lighter. Don’t even know if that is logical. Talk to Fun size and Zaaa Duke, then push on. Round a corner to a surprise return guest appearance of Mount Shasta. He’s always welcome on my show.

Return of Shasta

Finally shuffle in to our pre-arranged camp/meeting spot on spent town legs at around 8 o’clock. Turn on the sunset show and ease into the evening routine. Polish off couscous and veggies then make the free-trade, chemical free, organic, pro earth, anti-Republican, triple the price of Nestlé hot cocoa I bought at the Shasta health food store and Crystal Emporium. Almost did I balk at the expense. The first taste to tongue contact is so amazing that I gasp. Let’s hear it for the small farmers of the world. Damn the expense.

Diversity Twins

Time to look for a home

As I wait for the others I remember Slack’s story of a friend who bought a didgeridoo in Mount Shasta made entirely of Crystal. What would an aborigine have to say? Or would they just play? A few fat raindrops make a bid to distract and annoy me. But I pay no mind and they went on their way. The others never showed, so I lay down to read a book about a lawyer who fights the death penalty in Texas. That night I dreamed about pushing big stones up a steep hill.

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 he

Day 83 – Hippies, crystal, coffee and thai to die for

July 24, 2013
0 miles
Mile 1506

Came to on a bed in air chilled by an air conditioner. Very novel, but not unpleasant. Looked the length of my bed and saw my feet no longer caked in filth. Very novel, but not unpleasant. The perks of civilization are underrated. Hobbled down to a thin continental breakfast and asked for an extra hour to check out. “No extensions.” I surrendered meekly.

Tree growing out of roof

To return or not to return, that is the question. A full day off from the trail feels like a desertion and indulgent behavior all at the same time. Both negatives. An echo from one failed math class or another came to me—-two negatives make a positive. I’m in California, the center of positivity, so I chose the positive and took the day off. As did Slack, Red Beard, and Orbit, but still there was movement. We jumped on the public bus and shifted to the next town over, Mount Shasta. There, in the shadow of her namesake, we set up base camp behind Base Camp, a local outfitter. Base camp generously allows through hikers to camp behind their shop, as well as use their climbing wall, for free. In return they ask that we don’t start any fires. Deal and so much thanks.

Mount Shasta over Mount Shasta

I murdered my backlog and was thus free to stroll the streets. The town was thick with hippies. Every other store was selling crystals or coffee. I tried to make the connection but couldn’t. The town vibe was very charismatic. I’m glad I stayed.

At the edge of town lay a little slice of Thai heaven. Finally some real food with bite. I went through the door and did the authenticity check. Pictures of the king and queen on the wall. Check. Buddhist shrine over the cash register. Check. Chai yen sai nom. Check. We’re good to go. The Thai owner/chef to the table. Thai spicy not farang ( foreigner) spicy, please. Okay and so it was. As the pores opened up and noses ran, we shoveled the delicious food, confident of dawns fiery constitution to come.

Worth the walk

A reluctance to return to our field and tiring of pool, why not see what Hollywood has on tap? A rush walk back into town and then a shortcut across a field and over the railroad tracks would bring us right to the cinema, in theory. In practice, the field was a swamp filled with blackberry briars and the speeding train bore down. We arrived at the theater soaked, torn, adrenalined and deafened by the train horn.

The only flick on tap was “Pacific Rim.” In we went. It turned out to be a film about monsters hitting robots and robots hitting back. The film was horrible as was the acting. It was so bad that it morphed into a comedy. We laughed through it, and continued to laugh as we exited. So we got our money’s worth. But for the drama the film was trying for, I’ll take our shortcut any time. The toughest hiking so far on the PCT.

To the field and bed with laughter still ringing. I thought of some PCT hikers climbing Mount Shasta as I lay down. Earlier I had heard thunder. I wished luck in their direction and turned the stars to fade.

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 82 – Swiss Goo convulsions and Bluejay feathers

July 23, 2013
5 miles
Mile 1506

Awoke. For my eyes, Mount Shasta framed by my tent door. For my ears, the groan of the I-5 Freeway some 5 miles distant. For my stomach, hangover convulsions from Swiss Goo. Move, for a town and it’s lures propels. A total downhill experience. Waterless, foodless and flying. The only mystery being a series of exploded Bluejay feather patterns. Perhaps the Ospreys have tired of fish executions?

Exploded Bluejay

The trail bottomed out at the asphalt. Out went the thumbs. Normally the odds of hitching a ride on a freeway are akin to bankrupting a casino, but fortune smiled and soon we were in Dunsmuir. After a series of break fasts we discussed the collapse of our plan, which was to get in and out of Dunsmuir in a couple matter of hours. Inertia and Red’s injury channeled us into a hotel room search. With only one real hotel option in town, my negotiating position was weak from the onset. My opponent an Indian American woman. “Welcome, no discount.” I tried both traditional and nontraditional gambits. “No discount.” Finally my ace in the hole. “You were born in India. Your caste is Brahmin. You were born in the city of Bodhgaya, also birthplace of the Buddha.” “Wow that’s amazing. How did you know? You’re right on all three! No discount.” Beaten, I had Red Beard pull out his credit card.

Slack mixing up Cirina’s care package. Lunches and dinners for all.

Once again the post office delivered. My bounce box was there as well as new shoes. Thank you Jill. Cirina’s care package of real backpacker dehydrated trail meals arrived. They will keep all four of us in nutrition for the next week and relieve me of couscous depression for a while. A large thanks of gratitude. And finally a box of ass blasters arrived. I distributed them to my excited co-hikers for a trail trial run. I’ve always wanted to use those two words in tandem.

Trailhead stopper

Kept attacking my backlog as the day slipped away but didn’t pull it off by dinner. Salad and barley wine, oh yeah. Passed a St. Bernard with his head sticking out of a pick up. His muscled arm draped over the outer door. A cigarette dangling from his mouth would have completed the picture. The day concluded in the inevitable bar with a pool table. There Orbit and I played pool against two Central Americans who won bragging rights. Red Beard talked to the very beautiful bartender and Slack grooved to mystical reggae down the block. The evening ended as expected with Charlie, a Louisiana native, holding aloft an empty glass skull which earlier in the evening had been full of his personal vodka. As the bartender winced for the inevitable shattering drop, Charlie began to recite the graveyard scene from Hamlet. The place went nuts as Red cheered and I translated Shakespeare to the best of my abilities for my Spanish speaking friends. Yep, just as I expected.

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 81 – Killer sandwiches and Gatorade bottles adrift

July 22, 2013
29 miles
Mile 1501

Slept in. Repeated the common morning, now down to a 15 minute process. The oatmeal/pack rhythm mindless and calming. Then the first 10 minutes of stiff disjointed walking. Age or 1500 miles, the answer matters less. One by one the kinks fall away. The flow takes over as the walk finds you. Three mph becomes effortless. Up, down or flat irrelevant. You are free and cruising. Once there, you can forget about hiking and move on to the issues of the day. Later the pack will oppress as will the climb, heat, etc. But for now, the walk is so pleasant. Chills make the run up a scarred spine.

Red sets the pace. If he turns, I follow his current. If he stumbles, I focus on the path for obstacles. But mostly, I zone out, free to juggle erratic thoughts. I snap out of it when we arrive at the McCloud River and it’s campground. From there, Red planned to hitch into Dunsmuir and avoid more wear and tear on his shins. Capitalism monkey wrenched the strategy. Camping in America is for the weekends. Mondays are dedicated to income. A deserted campground reminded us of this obviousness. Arrival in Dunsmuir was left to us.

McCloud River and its gallons of beverages

At 14 miles, a creek, after miles without one, advertised lunch. Checked out the local eating establishments before settling on some flat rocks by a waterfall. I chilled my cheese and salami soup in the icy water, which returned it to the consistency of yogurt. Spooned it onto my tortilla pleased with nature’s assistance. Ate the last of it and tried not to taste it, but it was clear the grub was exhausted.

Orbit and Slack had been out of the picture for a few days, but as if a meeting had been called, they rolled in mid-lunch. Caught up on trail society doings and then aimed for a stream some 14 miles out. I didn’t get far. Turns out my soup no longer was a member of a food group. Therefore it didn’t understand how to behave entrapped in a stomach. It’s violent reaction to incarceration laid me low for a while. Note to future —- five days and no more for food without refrigeration.

Came to a slot canyon carved by a deep creek. All were halted for a swim. I threw my two water bottles down to Slack for a fill. They landed in the water where the current sucked them downstream. LNT (leave no trace) principles mean what they say. My two traces were headed to the Pacific. I scrambled down a path, ripped off my shoes and plunged into the Chase. Caught one easily and threw it to the shore. The other, though, was hellbent on seeing the ocean, or at least what was around the next corner. I could relate, but a Chase is a Chase. We slalomed through boulders as I closed in. Around a Naipalian bend and then to trouble—-shallow rapids. Both chase parties knew the make or break implications. I stroked hard and smiled inwardly about the obvious outcome. At the lip of the rapids I confidently stretched my hand to capture and hit an underwater boulder with my chest. Sudden deceleration. Six inches from my fingertips the bottle passed into the white water and on to the promised land.

For 1,500 miles that Gatorade bottle and I had been partners. Lips to mouth. The betrayal better. But it had left the backpacking family unit and I had to respect that. Freedom for all. But I have left a trace and for that I will pay in the karmic future. I contemplated that up the next big climb. Then put my head back in the hike as I slipped through the saddle and was presented with a new view of Mount Shasta. Started into the along downhill slide that eventually lands at I 5 and Dunsmuir. Came upon the agreed meeting stream as darkness set in. Surrounded by ski slope angles there was no sleep to be had there. Pushed on until I caught up with the others and joined the hunt for flat. Eventually a logging road provided sanctuary. A late dinner. Am I getting sick of couscous? And to the pillow mulling over the wisdom of sleeping on a road.

Shasta and its little brother at dark

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 80 – Melting soles and fear of shin splints

July 21, 2013
27 miles
Mile 1472

I fell asleep. A new breed of mosquito was being developed in the area. About the size of a baby hummingbird and capable of stealth I was quickly in over my head. Their tactics both advanced and treacherous. They’d buzz me a few times to inform me that they controlled the air. Then they’d pull back out of range of my flailing, the psych terror portion of the opening operation complete. An absence of buzzing convinced me of my sleep security. Out I would ease from my sleeping bag. With the coast clear I was safe to nod off. Their moment. Detecting the change in breathing patterns they landed in waves on the acres of exposed skin. The blood feast was on, especially around my eyes. Eventually the loss of blood trended toward coma. Which is where I would have ended up had my bladder, engorged with a half liter of hot chocolate, not alerted my surviving reptilian brain.

The angry buzz as the dinner party scattered allowed me to figure out my recent history. Swollen, blinded and screaming, I gave in to mandated fate. In personal darkness I set up my tent in the bright moonlight. Once inside my sight returned and I killed their rearguard with glee. The moon as my spotlight. My body worked through the night to resupply my veins with blood. As is the way of modern war, both sides declared victory, though neither side can ever truly win, as all generals know.

Good morning quiet as I fed my pack. Some good alone time over oatmeal. And then off to my morning constitutional. Which was ambushed by the arrival of Red Beard, Apparently my night stealth maneuvers were so successful that I ninjad right by his campsite. Both our water bottles were on E. The next water source was 7 miles away. So good conversation made a good distraction from thirst and my mashed finger. And I’ll tell you what, seven hot, dry miles makes chilly water taste better than anything—-anything.

The miles passed by lazily. The sun was in a punishing mood. It only went after your strengths and left your weaknesses to themselves. All was push. All toward Mount Shasta. Often through depressing clear cuts. Lunch was welcome, though five days of unrefrigerated heat had morphed my Swiss cheese and salami into a gelatinous goo. What can you do? Pour it on a tortilla, shove it down and wait for the inevitable post lunch havoc. Poisonous calories are still calories.

Mt. Shasta postcard angle

Reluctantly back to it. Another long waterless stretch along a high exposed Ridgeline. The same punishment reward cycle awaiting arrival at a spring. Gold spring, as it is called, was a bit hard to find. So I built a cairn (stacked rocks) with a directional indicator to ease location for those behind. I named it Slack’s Cairn in honor of his hatred of all cairns. Back to the process. Crested a pass, ducked under some power lines and voilà the sun started going down as did the trail. The speed picked up. Water was everywhere and all was smiles. For a while.

McCloud River and its gallons of beverages

Since Burney Falls, Red Beard’s feet have been going to hell. A blister, under the callus on the ball of his right foot makes walking very painful. His shoes, as well as mine, are worn out after 800 miles. Blisters have also returned for me. I think our shoes are the culprits. Slack, who is wearing sandals, is in worse shape shoewise. The ground heat has melted his sole glue. Thus he has taken to walking barefoot at times because his sandals no longer resemble sandals. These are desperate times. New shoes for both Red and I are 30 miles away but we have to get there. As Red hobbled along compensating to his left foot to relieve pressure a pain developed in his left shin. He believes it is a shinsplints which is what forced him off the trail 2011 after 1700 miles. His fear of a shinsplints return is palpable.

The work of Gods, the work of men

We spent the night at Butcher Knife Creek where he gave his feet a good ice water soaking. We ran through the various scenarios/solutions. Not very promising. It looks like he might have to get off trail for a while. Which would mean the end of our hiking days together. A sad end to a tough hiking day having this discussion. Let’s hope optimism makes a comeback.

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 79 – Stumbles in the night

July 20, 2013
22 miles
Mile 1445

Slept fitfully as my bedroom was a no win. The Heatwave was warming up the night also. This enabled the mosquitoes to increase their hours of operation. Too warm to stay in the sleeping bag. Too painful to expose my body as an unconscious buffet. Always in transition, never sleeping fully.

Opened my eyes to an osprey circling overhead looking to remove a fishes IQ. Decided horizontal was preferable to vertical and stayed that way for a while. Orbit passed by. Her night was rougher. An unopened beer she stored in her pack turned out to be the opposite, soaking all. Her night spent in a brewery. No matter what, scenarios can always be worse.

The eighth wonder of the world according to a politician – Burney Falls

The PCT crosses a thing that fish hit their head on

A nearby market does not increase departure performance. Nor do coin-operated showers. For that matter. Shade with Wi-Fi in a heatwave turns out to be a detriment also. The morning slipped away in a cloud of excuses. Checked out Burney Falls which Teddy Roosevelt called the eighth wonder of the world. Perhaps he was looking for votes, but they were beautiful. I passed on a swim in the 40° pool at the bottom. Finally strapped on my pack at 12:30 and headed out. I was minus some armpit and spine skin where my pack had dug in on yesterday’s extended walk. There my pack gleefully returned to continue its excavation.

Ostrich tree

Alligator lizard

My enthusiasm for those first few miles of client was not extensive, but as with all things I eventually found my rhythm. At 5 miles, Rockcreek presented. There I found Slack and Red Beard playing trolls under the shade of the bridge. We spoke of the intercone squabbling that had many walking alone today. Such are group dynamics. Had a dip and lunch. The heat had caused most of my food to lose its shape over the last few days, so I basically ate mush. The hike, fueled by warm mush and cold stream water picked up steam.

The trail finally made its high point. The sun painted Mount Shasta any manner of ways depending on its mood. I kept at it. Caught an alligator lizard crossing a logging road. Then we both went our way. Most hikers were stopping early today, but I was in the mood to push on. Before full moon came up. I passed on using my headlamp, Moving from treeshadow to moonbeam like a little kid. Decided to make it to camp without artificial light. It was fun following a Blacksnake through pools of oil. The inevitable fall came hard. My feet flew out, and my hand smashed into a rock trying to break the fall, though I couldn’t see the rock anyway. What a dumb shit. Stubbornly, I continued the game with caution.

Slinked into camp at 10 PM and dug my headlamp out my pack. My hand would survive. Expected to find Red Beard here but he must have been in the mood too. Thus I was alone to the stars. Fell asleep rearranging them.

Shasta to the night

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 78 – I got to thinking…and thinking…and thinking

July 19, 2013
42 miles
Mile 1423

Got to thinking about a meteor shower going on and the dry section to come. Got to thinking about the predicted temperature of 102°. Got to thinking about catching Orbit, Halfway and Red Beard somewhere up ahead. But really got to thinking about how far I could comfortably walk in one day. Voiced my thinking. All around asked for the same early wake up call. As always with early starts and excitement, I slept poorly. Was awake anyway at 3:30 AM so I sounded the Allah Akbar. Groans about the burdens of Islam arose from the darkness.

Was out of camp by 4 AM and on the trail making miles. Had to give up on the meteor shower quickly. As every time I looked skyward a shadowed rock would take me down. A night of unutterables. It was cold but a long climb to an escarpment warmed the soul. There the trail followed a rim ridge for the next five hours. To the right flat plateau. To the left a straight drop off of a few hundred feet to a valley of lava. As I understand it my walk took me along the upper edge of a fault line. My witnesses the occasional sleeping hiker and nonresponsive cows.

Light switch on

A water cache set up by a thoughtful trail angel ended all my water concerns and so the day reduced itself to time x distance. I, just a spectator. The sun came up with a whisper and the path turned towards it. Felt like I was walking into a mystery as the brightness blinded the trail. Finally the path turned and I returned to clarity to see two massive valley bookends come into the picture. To the south Mount Lassen and to the north the snow coated Mount Shasta. The rock shadows eased. My unutterables more infrequent. The air still cool to the touch.

New sun illuminating Mount Lassen which continues to drift south

Same sun lighting up a new destination

The inevitable drop to the valley floor coincided with the arrival of some serious Fahrenheit. My goal was the fish hatchery at mile 30 for lunch. If fish are being born there must be water. Made it to mile 27 at 12:30 when hunger bonked me. Some shade found me and I ate the usual. Red Beard showed up at Dessert and we pushed on to the trout birthing center. There a ranger explained that their biggest problem was ospreys getting through the netting and beheading young trout. Seems they have an interest in fish brains but not the body.

Armor Plant

After a rest in lush shaded grass and the arrival of the others I pushed on to Burney Falls State Park some 12 miles distant. The idea, to be there before the 8 o’clock closing time and consume copious amounts of hotdogs and waffles . The park stores only two menu items. I had plenty of buffer but an amazing cache set up by a fine gentleman named Randy hijacked my progress. Who can pass tootsie rolls and root beer? Not I. Chatted with Siesta, Orbit and a woman from Alaska and forgot that time was on the run. A glance at the map revealed a miscalculation in distance’s favor and now I was on the run too.

Lava wall not on the move

Patches of skin wore away as my pack,unaccustomed to such distances, dug in to my back. Fat waffles danced in my head. A wrong turn, led to a panicked phone call to the ranger station. My course righted I stormed into the store at 7:56 and ordered everything in sight. With a 12 pack in one hand and a bag of food in the other I was shown the door four minutes later. Collapsed on a picnic table and toasted my day. A truism —-42 miles is a long way to amble in a day.

The others trickled in. All were spent. Luckily the forest provided a nearby home and I was quick to horizontal. Ran through the days thoughts of significance and this is what came to mind. But first two updates. Tortuga is off the trail with a serious flareup of tendinitis. Her return tentative. In Ohio, Catherine opened the door and let Doc in. They are happily ripping apart fish together for her masters thesis. He seems content but misses our joint morning constitutions and post discussion. Back to my last thought of the day. This was in the cache register at Randys.

What does a fish say when he swims into a wall? Dam. What does a fish say when he swims over a waterfall? Dam it. Not significant enough? How about that sent to me by a friend who understands the PCT. “And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.” Khalil Gibran

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 77 – Petrified molten lava

July 18, 2013
25 miles
mile 1381

New

Lava tubes formed by underground river of lava whose outer crest had hardened quickly

Arose to a flustered Ole. From 11:30 until 1:30 AM he had Waged a lonely war against the most dangerous night predator in the Forest. While we slept the battle raged on, around and over us. Weapons brought into play included rocks, hiking poles and threats of destruction. Seven separate attacks were repulsed.. Finally the destroyer of the night peace moved on and Ole could take rest.

Viking was not so lucky. A couple of days before he awoke to all his possessions spread out over a couple hundred yard Square area. Much of his clothes had holes chewed in them. The culprit in both cases? The Nightstalker of evil intent? Who could be so malevolent? Why that fuzzy cute Disney grazer by day—-deer. It’s motivation, salt. Deers crave it, and human urine and clothes are full of it. Especially people hiking 20+ miles a day. Deer grow bold by darkness and come close for a urine click. Intoxicated, they move in for salty clothes snacks. Shoes have even disappeared. Darwin dictates in the forest. Us or them. Deprived deer or nude hikers. The victor determined by the morning light.

Several hikers passed by early and walked through the freezing stream. The light of day revealed a log bridge 50 feet downstream. Advantage lazy start. The path ran flat and soft. The miles melted away. The speed comparable to a moving walkway in an airport. Enough water lay about to keep the walking lubricated. The forests varied. At times the National Park Forest with floors carpeted with fallen trees. Then a massive burn. Followed by sterile rows of corporate planted trees. It kept ones attention.

Lassen viewed through a dead landscape

Burnt to death

Seventeen miles by lunch. Ate some pounds off my pack. Walked on, but not far, as a store placed itself in my headway. The heat was up and the thirst was on. Clenching required a lemonade, a Gatorade, a chocolate milkshake and a Mountain Dew. Hydrated to bladder capacity returned my shoes to their Natural function.

You never know what you’ll see on the PCT

Rounded a bend to firetrucks upon firetrucks. Another bend and halfway and orbit sat under firefighter custody /care. The story poured out. Another PCT through hiker had diverted to the woods for a constitutional. Burning their TP had quickly gotten out of control as the dry pine needle bed makes excellent tinder. A quick spread to a quarter of an acre. There the fire was halted by the just arrived orbit, halfway and the unfortunate original hiker. They built a dirt path around the fire by clearing back Pineneedles. The fire was unable to beach the path and the day was saved. The firefighters doused the burn, gathered needed information from orbit and halfway, then released them to the trail. Smokey the bear would have been proud. My observation a ringing endorsement for the ass blaster.

A 30 mile stretch of dry trail awaits my arrival tomorrow, so I stopped early at the last water stop. Adjacent to my patch of home dirt were extensive lava tubes which I explored thoroughly. My exit coincided with the return of the beer foragers. They were able to confirm a rumor that a local convenience store was giving Away a free sixpack to each through hiker. They carried their confirmation. Thus the sunset to the sound of clinking glass. I to bed early, falling asleep closer to Canada than I had been the previous 76 nights.

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 76 – Boiling Mudlake

July 17, 2013
22 miles today
mile 1357

Boiling mudlake

The loud awakening/departure of construction workers at 4:30 AM substituted for rain. But this time the effect was temporary. Back to darkness and a decent hour of return to consciousness. Recharged and packed, all headed in different breakfast destinations. Then hikers coated the highway in multiple groups for a return to the trailhead. Normally this presents a problem, but not in hiker friendly Chester. Orbit and I caught a ride with meandering moose. A 2012 through hiker, his nostalgia was palpable as he discussed the changes his through hike had brought to his life.

Back on the trail by 10, orbit and I discussed the nature of aggression. Why it is that in the animal world animals will fight to make a point, but not to the death. While humans will fight to the death. Good topic, but over soon as I lagged behind. My pack felt like a VW bus riding on my hips. All steps a challenge. I cursed Dollar General and their reasonable prices bitterly on climbs. I resolved to fast until Canada. Made it to lunch by yet another fork of the feather River and lay down, my resolve forgotten. Decided never to get up again or at least until I had polished off six pounds of food. But as always, calories and rest return the hunger to see what is around the corner. The human race as always divided into those that have to know what is around the corner and those that are content where they are.

Around that corner was Terminal Geyser, a massive vent in the earth shooting out pressured steam and boiling water/mud scented with sulfur. A fine show worth the side hiking. The next corner revealed a bubbling mud Lake. Mt Lassen National Park was proving a show off. I plodded along. With many points of interest came multiple forks in the path. I took the wrong one every time. Thus I was late to the trail magic party at spot 15 in a well laid out campground. There Nancy, off on her own hike, had left a spread for through hikers. Thank you Nancy! everyone was stopped dead in their tracks practicing their munching skills.

And there I revealed the highlight of my day. Coming around a turn I looked up just in time to see a bobcat glide across the path. A true treat for the senses. Pushed on a few more miles to a river and a bed for the night. On the way perhaps convincing Veggie to go to India and Nepal brother then join the military after his PCT hike.

Good night to all.

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

Category Archives: On the Road

Day 85 – Owiiiieee! And then I fight with the rocks.

Day 84 – Climbing fortresses with waterless water bottles

Day 83 – Hippies, crystal, coffee and thai to die for

Day 82 – Swiss Goo convulsions and Bluejay feathers

Day 81 – Killer sandwiches and Gatorade bottles adrift

Day 80 – Melting soles and fear of shin splints

Day 79 – Stumbles in the night

Day 78 – I got to thinking…and thinking…and thinking

Day 77 – Petrified molten lava

Day 76 – Boiling Mudlake