July 12, 2013
31 miles
Mile 1250

The sun got an early start and I took the cue. Wanted to put in some miles so I left quickly. My cramps from the night before stayed behind so my mood was elevated. The miles slid past. For hours I hiked alone, my focus shifting between internal and external scenery. The geography had calmed considerably since the dramatic high Sierras. The pine-covered mountains were more subdued and tended to stretch across the horizon rather than tear it apart as the Sierra crags did. All day I passed through pines. Monotonous to some, but my kind of monotony, like couscous. Can beauty be monotonous?

I started to run into people. Passed two ladies and their dog on a backpacking trip. Even the dog was packing two weeks of food. His pack was balanced with one week bouncing off each rib cage. Came upon a wonderful pair of volunteers humping a 32-inch chain saw up the mountain to clear the trail. This was fine news as the blowdown’s across the PCT in this area were extensive. I felt like a hurdler most of the day. Came to a paved road with an ice chest left out by the same volunteers. Unexpected Gatorade is incomparable. My thanks in print.

Near lunch I came upon Halfway. In the guidebook we found a reference to Alder Spring and a mileage indication. Low on water, we had a lunch destination. We hiked and searched with no luck. Past the mileage point, past optimism, and finally arrived at resignation. Gave up, Sat down and ate dry. Had a good chat about the trickiness of fate, got up, walked three minutes and came to the spring.

The path dropped like a knockout. Eventually to 3,000 feet, the lowest point the PCT has been in 700 miles. In the back of the hikers head is the vague notion of “for every drop there is a corresponding climb,” but that is the burden of another day. The path in this area was rumored to be inundated with poison oak so I danced around everything with “leaves of three” which seemed to be everything. Ran into Viking who had seen one bear and four rattlesnakes during the day’s hike. The only animals I had seen were two sparrows that morning who had a dust up in the fire pit and then coated me with fine ash when they flew by my ear.

Finally bottomed out at the Feather River, crossed its fine bridge,and camped at an even finer spot pointed out by a local. Rivers at lower altitudes are warmer, who knew? A long swim and then ramen on the grill. A dinner party of relaxed conversation ensued. Ole, Track Meet, Veggie, Orbit, Slack, Halfway and myself among the invitees. The sun took its leave and left the moon in charge. A bottle of whiskey made the rounds which eased my transition to my bedroom of sand.

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

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