Tag Archives: Escuela Verde

Day 31 – Mr. O’D and remembrances of times past

June 2, 2013
0 miles
558 miles total

The passing trains of Mojave called me to consciousness. As today would be a day of non-advancement I was slow to move. I mulled over the day to come. Usually zeros are for complete rest, but Mojave is unusual as is our host, Jim O’Donnell. Why not dedicate the day to seeing the Mojave region the way I saw it growing up as a kid. The itinerary solidified.

Our host, Jim O’Donnell

Some background. Mr. O’D was my teacher in junior high. Math to be exact. A subject that I would comfortably fall into the bottom five percent of any given range of students. Yet somehow Mr. O’D figured out a way to make me learn, and grasp that horrible subject.

But it was so much more than that. Mr. O’D taught me that it was OK to live a life outside every conceivable norm and have a hell of a time doing it. Words will never capture him, but ten minutes with him will enlighten. So do yourself a favor if you’re ever waylaid in Mojave, stop by the only donut shop in town and savor the show.

Mr. O’D is also an explorer and herpetologist. He took me, and other kids, all over the Western United States/Mexico exploring and catching snakes. We took risks that would be impossible in today’s culture of litigation. Why not give my friends, who are from every region of the States except the Southeast, a tour of those days?

So off we went. First, we explored the commercial plane dumping grounds of the Mojave Airport as well as its new spaceport where for $250,000 you too can touch space. Next we swung through California City where I had actually lived. The third largest city in California area-wise, it was set up to be land fleece for gullible East Coast investors. Own a piece of the California dream for a couple grand, even if your lot is miles from the middle of nowhere. To Cantil, where a shift in the winds is rapidly swallowing one house at a time in new sand dunes. There Mr. O’D lived until it became untenable.

Downtown Randsburg

On to Randsburg and Joburg, two tiny mining towns that hold on, beating off ghosts that want to occupy. There we ate banana splits at a soda fountain and shot pool at “The Joint” whose 100-year-old proprietor and barkeep had just passed.

Mine exit.

Nearby we tracked down a mine whose tunnels I had explored extensively as a kid. Its entrances had been sealed—liability again, but there is always a way in. And there was. Slack, Orbit, Doc and Red Beard got a taste of the bowels. On to a vertical mine shaft with a twelve-second-rock drop. Math says that is 1,400 ft. I say a hell of a long way.

Back to Cal. City the back way, always the back way, where we stumbled upon an abandoned house and mining works. Going through the detritus of a life lived and trying to create a story from it is a great pleasure. Yet another mineshaft was discovered for more fun and games. I will never tire of this stuff.

After pizza we hit the back roads hunting for snakes and kangaroo rats that prefer the warmth of asphalt. How to do it? Pile everyone all over the truck in any manner—they can hold on. Drive slowly down the roads all eyes peeled. When someone sees something they scream out the identifying word, and the brakes are hit apothekeschweizer.de. Everyone piles out and tries to put the grabs on it. The catchings were slim, but the fun was not. Maybe hunting was out because of the otherworldly smoke haze that blanketed the sun throughout the day, a reminder that the Powerhouse fire was up to 25,000 acres with 2,000 firefighters fighting the fight.

We arrived back in Mojave, well after midnight, exhausted from our restful zero day.

Sometimes fun is just the better option.

Thanks again, Mr. O’D.

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 30 – Powerhouse is hungry

June 1, 2013
8 miles today
Mile 558

The beginnings of the sun gave a shout. Ate the last of my food and downed some water obtained from the last water cache. A critical cache set up on a very dry section of train, it is stocked by the kind Messrs David and Larry of Tehachapi. Good on them.

On the move by 6:15 a.m. we made out way downward toward the desert and Mojave, cutting through high plateau forests scarred by fire and dirt bikes. Our old friend the poodle bush reappeared and gave an enticing bark. Background scenery was provided by the mushroom cloud of the now-named Powerhouse Fire. Its appetite still unsatisfied at 3600 acres. Nine hundred firefighters made it their business to murder Mr. Powerhouse.

The path sucked through an endless number of wind turbines. Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh as they beat the air, so far responsible for the deaths of 200 plus eagles, as they scan the ground and not the air when they fly. Which one, my fellow environmentalists, clean energy or eagles? I want to look at my cake. I want to devour my cake.

After eight miles, we arrived low. A confession. I went to Junior High and High School in the unloved burg of Mojave. It is said that Mojave High doesn’t bother to have reunions because the escapees would never return and the trapped don’t like ot talk aoub ti. The path of life is twisted through and I find myself looking forward to the homecoming. My ex-teacher and current friend, Jim O’Donnell is waiting at the trailhead, as is au-natural hiker. This good soul is still dishing out root beer floats in his sexy mini.

Mojave is still there, even more reluctant to look in the mirror. A freeway bypass seems to have shrunk the town, but like a brawler with a sub 500 record it swings on. We stop for donuts in a shop that was the Mojave library. Across the street is one of my father’s churches. As I listen to Mr. O’Donnell’s stories, through the din caused by passing trains, I am content.

Another hiker arrives at the donut shop and announces that although their website say otherwise, the Mojave post office is closed Saturday. My bounce box is there which makes this development unfortunate. It is, however, small town America, one of which I live in during the seventies. Return to said post office. Bang on door until head appears. Find right combination of words for that head to compassionately receive my needs, wants and desires. Wait patiently for breach in parameter security. Door opens. Receive said bounce box. Thank profusely. Mojave is a great town.

A text arrives. Orbit and Doc have hitched to Hiker Town and burning out a thirty-plus mile day in order to catch up. Will reunion at the trailhead sometime late evening. All goes according to plan and by 10:00 Orbit and Sons is back in action.

Our home in the Mojave in front of Jim O’Donnell’s house.

The conversation was good as we sat in front of Mr https://mannapotheke.de/cialis-generika/. O’Donnell’s trailer and caught up under a smoke-hazed moon. Soon the long day made its demands on us all and we laid down where we conversed. Alone to my thoughts, I tried to figure out why I loved the thrill of natural disasters so much, because I so hated their effect. But I didn’t get far as sleep held the stronger hand. Mr. Powerhouse, however, decided to skip sleep and continue to feed.

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!

Day 28 – Calcium Wars and Wildfires

May 30, 2013
25 miles today
527 Miles total

Awoke to a perfect colon, knock on wood. Genetically, I got dealt one hell of a hand in that category. Slack was able to hike, so we began the descent to the desert, in effect on the run from something we didn’t know was chasing us. Stopped to watch an age-old strut battle between two male swift lizards. Again and again they rammed each other followed by outrageous push-ups. A detached female eagerly awaited the outcome with a jaundiced eye. The event took place in an amphitheater ring of new oaks that had grown up around a central dead master oak stump. It was worthy of the Romans.

Our goal was Hiker Town. A house surrounded by buildings that appeared to be the set of a miniature Western. As we bore down in Hiker Town the Nodo Worm bore down on my stomach. The race was on. My gut began to swell and buckle. Suddenly an inspiration. I had Tums – a cure all. I began chewing them like a kid eating popcorn during a horror movie.

An epic battle ensued, which peaked about a mile before arrival. A subtle shift, and the tide turned. Apparently the Nodo Worm had never faced off with a pound of calcium. A complete route. The worm was able to make it a escape at Hiker Town and hopefully died a horrific death in some dark septic tank. Refreshed, I had a hamburger and a Papa Bear sized bowl of ice cream. Always celebrate your victories. Talked heresies with the very relaxed Reverend Dude as the wind built outside.

After Hiker Town, the PCT parallels the California Aqueduct. At times the water is visible, but the majority of the time it is concreted over to reduce evaporation. Thus, the curious sensation of walking on top of a river, across a desert while feeling very thirsty.

Coyote crossing remember by the aqueduct

As I walked along the aqueduct, I noticed some smoke on the ridge of the mountains we had just left. Before long it became apparent that a wildfire was on the loose, fed by the vigorous exhales of the Mojave. By evening we were to learn that a section of the PCT was now closed, that the Andersons were threatened with evacuation, that the fire had spread to 1000 acres and that some hikers were missing.

Wildfire unleased

The firm of Orbit and Sons had been cleaved in two.

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 27 – Pancakes, Cherries & the Nodo Virus

May 29, 2013
24 miles today
502 Miles total

You have to leave home sometime. But before I self cut the umbilical cord, I had one more round of pancakes and cherries. Joe gets up every morning at an ungodly hour and prepares an unlimited number of hot cakes for whatever number of hikers happens to be there. I suggested he mix the cherries with the pancake mix. He kindly and gently told me to get the fuck out of his kitchen but come back for more if still in need.

Doc had arrived the night before and I caught up with his adventures. He planned to take a zero. Little did he know his medical skills would be called into play, with not a pie to be found.

Red Beard, Orbit and I, as well as Waka Waka and Tree Killer, grabbed a ride with Terry to the trailhead. She embraced us all in a way that manages to encompass an entire family reunion in one hug.

Arriving at the trailhead

The day started with a big climb. Orbit fell uncharacteristically back. By the crest she was out of sight. I doubled back to check on here, but she had already turned back, cut down by the now named Nodo Virus.

At the next water stop, Red Beard and I learned that Slack was lying by the side of the trail some eight miles ahead clearing his stomach. I walked on, with a cloud of doom shading my steps. Who but me could be next? I hoped that my stomas leprosy form the early part of the trip hardened my immunological resolve.

Slack managed to make some forward progress and we did not catch him until mile 501. Our pursuit took us through a beautiful section of the Angeles National Forest.

At the reunion Slack was full of illness stories, including fainting while pissing. His head was positioned at a weird angle so the impact must have been dramatic. We moved on together to a rainwater catch and bedded down.

I dreamed of a Nodo worm crawling into my ear to spread its venom.

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 25 – New and improved tent pole?

May 27, 2013
0 miles today
478 miles total

Like all long term endeavors, balanced days off are strategically wise. Or if you walk a lot, a day spent sitting on your ass feels good. But too many days off spirals one into a deficit of ambition. For me, my knee has spoken. This day is one of rest, which is easy physically, but a challenge mentally. The call of miles is a strong one.

All day the large group that had stayed for the Memorial Day weekend party has been moving out. I did not know most of these folks as they had started the trail before me. An annual kickoff meeting/party takes place at the end of April for the PCT. This year some 400 hikers had attended. Most then start their hike. Because my group has been moving at a fairly quick pace, we have begun to catch the tail end of the large kickoff group, a good chance to hear new stories.

One individual I met named Handstand works in one of three locations – the South Pole, Greenland, or Palmyra. Palmyra is a tiny atoll in the South Pacific owned by the Nature Conservancy. He works anywhere from 4-6 months a year maintaining facilities at one of the three far-flung locations. He spends the rest of the year seeing what interests him. This year is it completing the PCT. In October he will return to Antarctica. His parting comment was, “I can’t stop laughing whenever I think that someone is paying me to work in those places.”

The taco salad affair was more intimate and subdued as the dinner crowd was greatly reduced.

The weather forecast, which basically means looking up at the sky, hinted at rain. So I set up my tarp, using my new and improved tent pole for the first time. A 25 mph gust of wind snapped it in half at the seven-minute mark. Can’t blame the tooth for that one, as it is back in my mouth.

Spent the rest of the evening concocting a new pole from the remnants of old trekking poles. Some pieces of equipment simply refuse to behave in a civilized manner.

The pole that would not go up

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 23 – Knee brace & tooth cement

May 25, 2013
10 miles today
454 miles

Awoke to a swelling KOA, compliments of Memorial Day weekend. While others waited for caffeine, I took off. The goal was the Saufleys, well-known Trail Angels who open their property to hikers every thru hiking season. Ran into a 78 year old runner out for his long weekend run. His comment, ”I’m finally starting to slow down.”

On the road again

Passed through a hamster tube, under the zipping freeway cars above, and emerged into a gorgeous canyon.

Exclusive PCT tunnel

Right away spotted a rosy boa snake on the path. The canyon formed part of Vasquez rocks, the hideout of the enterprising bandit, Senior Vasquez.

former beach

Arrived at the Saufleys, sporting a throbbing right knee. Never really had knee problems before, so this is a novelty. The Saufley’s is basically a hiker processing center run on an efficiency that has been honed by years of experience. When you walk through the gate, you feel like you are standing on the edge of an unfamiliar river. At first you hesitate because the current is fast. But eventually you jump in and are whisked away pleasantly. Cots are there, computers are here, put your laundry over there, it will be ready in three hours, bikes are in the rack, films, food, fire and so the river flows. Everything a hiker could need within a thirty-yard radius. Donations, never mentioned, oil the machine. Hikers hobble around in various states of disrepair. The atmosphere relaxed.

Saufley’s camp – home

My issue was the sacred tooth, still in my pocket. It’s unlucky streak continued as my search for a dentist dead-ended with the realization that it was Memorial Day weekend. Personal oral surgery is not a phobia of mine, so I jumped on the shuttle to Northridge and went to a pharmacy. Found some tooth cement and returned to dental health. Next door was an all-you-can-eat sushi joint. No sane person can pass these up. Felling lucid, I stopped in and paid the $25 entry fee for 60 minutes of intake. By the end, I had gone through about $80 of sushi and the sushi chef was becoming progressively harder to find. I felt wise.

All hiker stopovers have a series of bins filled with unneeded food and gear, free for the needy. The obsessing with reducing backpack weight keeps these bins remarkably full. In one, Red Beard found me a knee brace and muscle relaxant cream. All I need now is Doc and one of his pies to return to full health.

With the tank still topped off from lunch, a margarita symbolized dinner. I went to bed contemplating tomorrow’s 24 challenge and all its 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 22 Woke up in ice, walked through the burn

Day 22

May 24,2013
24 miles today
444 miles total

The tooth as a good luck charm was a bust. After all, it did get yanked out by a Mike and Ike, which in anybody’s book is a bad luck event. No idea why I thought its future luck would be better. Rubbed it last night for no dew. Cowboy camped when everyone else put up their tent. Woke up this morning cold. The cracking sound was alarming as I broke the sheet of ice that covered me. I think the tooth needs to go home.

Gladly climbed away from the saddle through burnt acreage. Orbit, who had suffered from the bite of the poodle in 2011, described its horrors in such a way that we ended up detouring around multiple sections of the PCT. A road, with very limited access, paralleled the trail so I stayed on that. While walking along that a security truck pulled up. The driver asked where I was coming from. I answered, “Mexico.” His partner in the passenger seat screamed, “Jesus!” The driver then asked where I was going. I answered, “Canada.” The partner screamed, “Oh, Jesus!” Maybe I made their day. They certainly made mine.

As I walked, I got to thinking about Red Beard and Orbit. Both had taken a shot at the PCT in 2001, a particularly bad snow year. Red Beard made it 1900 miles before shin splints took him out. Orbit made it 1000 miles before her money ran out. It’s a testament to their character that instead of entering this year at the point they left off at in 2011, they started once again from the beginning.

The detour continued through the Station Fire of 2009 that destroyed 160,000 acres of forest and took the lives of two firefighters. I paid my respect at their memorial and then came upon the ruins of the LA Country Firefighting Training Center. The compound was extensive and its destruction complete. I’ll let the photos tell the rest of the story.

More destruction

Same camp

Camp cafeteria

Melted Gatorade bottles

Melted Quonset hut

Firefighting camp destruction

Irony – the only thing that didn’t burn

Finally rejoined the flow of the PCT, after too many miles of road walking, for a long descent into the Acton Valley. My knee was still bothering me, so I decided to loosen it up by running to the KOA Campground some six miles away. I was low on supplies so my pack was light and not much of a hindrance. Off I went. The exhilaration of bombing downhill for miles on a mountain path can’t be matched. Music thumping, twisting and turning down switchbacks, allows one to grab freedom that is mostly elusive.

Slack had the same idea. We raced to the end, where we skidded to a stop at the camper of a natural hiker. A famous 2006 PCT thru hiker who prefers to hike without clothes. Just returned from six year of missionary work in Peru, he celebrated his 65th birthday by serving us root beer floats in a transparent mini skirt.

Can this trail get any better?

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 21 – Killer poodles and Keystone Cops

May 23, 2013
Mile 418
24 miles today

Moonrise

Oatmeal, for something new and completely different. Every day when hiking I have the same breakfast of four packets of oatmeal and cold water, the combination of flavors irrelevant. I figure a dog never varies their breakfast, why should I?

The hike of four miles to the first water stop warmed me up to the hole in my mouth. As I filled my water jug in the stream, I had the misfortune to find a pair of sunglasses. Trail etiquette demands that I make a solid effort to track down the owner –which means carrying them. The bane of all hikers is new weight. Now I had bane. Slack is an ace at tracking down owners of items he has found on the trail. Currently he is batting five for six. All day I picked up my pace trying to track down hikers in order to return the misplaced shades. All to no avail. No one claimed them.

The infamous poodle dog bush

The trail today cut through the dreaded poodle bush territory. Poodle bush springs up after a fire has devastated a forest. Like all members of the poodle family its bite is worse than its bark. If you brush up against it, symptoms similar to severe poison oak haunt you for about two weeks. In this section poodle bush crowds the path. The spasmodic dance to avoid its touch is both comical and grim.

All day my right knee nagged at me. This was not helped by an incident that took place in late afternoon. As I came around a bend, a hand reached up and grabbed my right ankle. Ass over teakettle I went. Bits and pieces flying everywhere. Orbit, who was eight feet in front of me, serenely oblivious to my screams because her headphones were in. It was worthy of the Keystone Cops. As I sat up from my cloud of dust, I resolved to stop thinking and start looking out for evil grabbers.

Desert from 9,000 feet near summit of Baden Powell

1,500 year old pine at 9,000 feet

A long descent brought me to an uncharismatic saddle camp next to a fire station. The fire station appears obsolete, as the forest has already burned down. But who am I to question such things?

The moon is full and the dew heavy. Everyone has put up their tents except me. I opt for laziness, rub my lucky tooth in the hopes that it is not too damp tonight and head for slumber land.

400-mile mark commemorated!

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!