Tag Archives: Escuela Verde

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 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 75 – Halfway there!

July 16, 2013
14 miles
mile1335

In my dream the rain came down. Sometimes dreams come true. A wet face at 4:40 AM is true. You can only wait so long until all that you own is soaked. But maybe it will stop. And your warmth and comfort will continue unabated. Perhaps even a return to dreams. The rain turns to hail. Oh hell. Out and up and full of foul temper. Set up the tent or pack? Decisions of a cotton brain. Things stop falling from the sky. Hunger makes a bid for attention. Oatmeal or horizontal? Okay, a quick oatmeal and then two more hours of sleep. Mix oatmeal and rain returns. To hell with it, I’m packing. Panic-throw everything in pack. Rain stops. Back to oatmeal. Rain starts. baseball analogy. Throw pack on and start walking in the dark. Rain stops never to return. Strangely happy as the sky lightens. Two bucks share the path with me. My pace is quick as all is cool. I climb to a summit. The sunrise climbs the other side. We meet at the top. Thanks rain.

Canada and Mexido equidistant – Halfway!

Bombing along with no food or water in your pack is one of through hiking’s great pleasures. Your pack literally floats on your back. And so all was good as I rounded a bend and came upon a post that said the journey was half over. Sweet, signed the register and kept boogeying. Tried to come up with some deep Thoughts but failed. Really more interested in the possibility of an ice chest at the juncture of the PCT and the highway into Chester. Didn’t give up on deepness, just postponed it.

Strange things occasionally appear on the trail

The sound of cars travels far in the forest, but as the loudest increased I knew I was closing in. At 9:30 AM I popped out of the forest with 14 miles under my belt. Magically, as is the nature of trail magic, the ice chests were there as was a trail Angel named Pipers Mom. In tow was also husband. They were loading Ole and Veggie into their minivan and I quickly joined the carpool, but not before the second breakfast of root beer and plum. The forest squeezed out Red Beard and Halfway just in time and we all were landed at the Copper Kettle for breakfast number three. There a spicy waitress full of comebacks kept the plates and shakes coming as the others drifted in. My gratitude and thanks to Pipers Mom who helped out her daughter’s hike in 2008 and never stopped helping.

The Seneca Hotel is the cheapest in town. Ironically the Seneca Hotel became hiker central. From there we fanned out to meet our needs. A new Dollar General had just opened and cut my resupply cost in half. I bought too much food for which I was soon to suffer the spine bending consequences. But that was tomorrow. Then to a local dentist/ hiker. Under a large “Welcome PCT Hikers” banner we entered his office. There he and his staff handed out cookies, dental supplies and a $20 certificate for Maria’s Mexican restaurant. In return we had our photo taken, signed a register and smelled up his office. My hat off to Dr. Webb and his crew.

The day passed in repose and work. The night dedicated to enchiladas and margaritas at Maria’s. The stuffed stroll home interrupted by the Mount Lassen pool hall and bar where orbit and I battled it out for the championship of said Hall. Then Chester turned out the lights and so did we. My back to a bed where no rain could fall.

Steve H

A Thank You at the Halfway Point!

At the halfway point I would like to pause and thank all those who have taken the time out of their day to read along. Often the writing is rushed and perhaps of limited interest so I appreciate your tolerance. Especially I would like to thank and express my gratitude to those of you who have donated to Escuela Verde so far. 100% of your contributions go to the operation of the school and any donation, however small, helps.

Normally, on a hike or trip I would not keep a journal. And to be honest the time investment required by this blog has been a pain and something at times I’d rather not do. But the cause is greater than myself, so I put my pen to it and hike a few less miles. Escuela Verde is really doing good work in this world. Please support this work if you can. My appreciation to you. Now let’s get to the second act.

Steve Halteman a.k.a. Blast

Doing the Victory Stand in appreciation of all those who have donated to the children of Escuela Verde!

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 74 – Mount Lassen and beautiful meadows

July 15, 2013
24 miles
Mile 1320

Deer jumping over Veggie began the awakening process. First out of camp is a bonus because the animals have yet to be scared off their nighttime occupation of the PCT. Thus I sent many a startled deer crashing into the undergrowth. Kept moving north, every footfall had the heel landing lower than the toe. A reflection of the climb.

Halfway caught up and we spoke of his life in Maine. How he was trapped and free at the same time. The roller coaster hike up was anti-climactic as there was no corresponding freefall. Just a flattening out. We continued the far-ranging conversation to mask our disappointment. Lunch, 14 miles, and an amazing spring coincided and we laid down in the dirt to savor all. A gun range provided background music.

Conglomerate boulder

The path after lunch, though beautiful, failed to inspire. Every once in a while I’m just unenthusiastic about hiking. Today was that day. But in the end the miles must still happen, regardless of a mental state. I popped in the headphones and started marching under orders. Keeping cadence to Taylor Swift singing about this mall or that mall, (Thank you Madison.) a grind returned to a hike as the miles twisted through volcanic chaos. Enthusiasm crept back in. Tired, waterless and grinning I stutter stepped into camp. Plopped down and then plopped back up for another hike down to the spring. A nomads life.

Meadow vista

Polished off the last of my food reserves at dinner. A lurking panic. No hiker has affection for a food-less existence. To hike without food in the vernacular is known as a VisionQuest. Mine would be a short one. Only 14 miles to Chester and a supermarket.

Mt. Lassen sandwich

Lassen getting closer

And closer still

Looked up for the weather forecast. Stars only spoke of a lovely morning. Cowboy camping it was. As my head hit the spare clothes bag I thought not of town food, but of a trail marker some 9 miles ahead. A marker that would exclaim halfway there, halfway from.

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

Tag Archives: Escuela Verde

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 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 75 – Halfway there!

A Thank You at the Halfway Point!

Day 74 – Mount Lassen and beautiful meadows