Tag Archives: hiking to help the kids

Day 58 – One Thousand Miles! (and still a blood bag)

Woke up in the unpleasant company of party guests waiting for breakfast. Each of us isolated in our individual castles, we communicated by shouting. Veggie, the mean guitar player of Tuoleme Meadows and Hitch, a novelist, were there too. Hitch arrived late in the evening wearing a large mosquito head net. She told a good story of blowing a large snot rocket, forgetting about the head net. The resulting mess both grim and hilarious.

Hell Beach at Benson Lake

A lake on the run

A feminine tree

My morning constitution was shaping up to be a potential tragedy. That kind of exposure to winged vampires was chilling. Except it didn’t happen. First time on the trail without my morning regularity. I blame dinner, which was highly irregular. All of it came from the free hiker box and none of it was couscous which I had run out of. The first course was mashed potatoes, bland and blocking. The second course was hot cocoa, or what I took to be hot cocoa in a clear plastic Ziploc bag. I poured it in the cup and added boiling water. It swelled and expanded, eventually taking on the appearance of a Brown sponge. Everyone had an opinion as to its identity perhaps carnation instant breakfast or protein powder or hot chocolate gone rogue. So I ate it because hunger is the mother of consumption. It did not taste of a food group. At the halfway point I stopped eating as I realized what it was. It was some form of an emergency female contraceptive device. Thus this morning I have a contraception sponge damming my colon waiting to stop procreation. I’m sure.

Escape route from Benson Lake

The rush through clouds of hate to departure. Life is movement. Death is packing. I retreated through the swamp and pushed to higher ground with dreams of escape. It was not to be. All day they probed. I smeared on DEET, which will give me the cancer later in life. It worked with movement. Stopped, they found a way to pump always. Now I have empathy for hamsters. Sooner or later I had to stop for the night, I knew it and they knew it.

A PCT leg under assault

Thus the day had a rushed feeling to it. Every time I paused to look around or snap a photo, it was snack time. Dreams of a mosquito free pass or lake or anywhere a delusional fantasy. Even the midday swim involved swallowing mosquitoes because you have to surface and breath. So we walked on. I even considered pushing on to the next town Bridgeport through the night though it was another 20 miles on. The scenery was still achingly beautiful. It was just viewed through the prism of hundreds of black dots. The major milestone of 1000 miles should have been a fine celebration. Instead it was a quick snapshot during a panic dance.

1,000 mile marker going north in a very very long state

Traditionally, the night brings relief. So we walked in that direction and the miles piled up. Left Yosemite and entered the toiyabe wilderness. The mosquitoes did not respect the boundary. I saw deer everywhere flicking and twisting spasmodically brothers in our abuse. Hope left, and we stopped. The anticipated buffet again. I bent down to fill up water and received a neat line of hypodermic’s across my plumbers crack. I had to eat and that is how I found myself sitting on a log, bathed in the smoke of the fire, shoveling more lifeless mashed potatoes in my mouth under a lifted net and contemplating the nature of insanity. The low point of the trip. Oh for a return to the kindness of the desert where mosquitoes are grilled to death for their cruelty. But when it’s all said and done it still beats 9 to 5.

Trapped blood bag soon to be harvested

Panic dove into my tent and killed all the infiltrators with non-Buddhist glee. Free from my tormentors I finished someone else’s sojourn in my cocoon with a smugness bordering on ecstasy. 1000 miles indeed.

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 55 – Half Dome awe and a bedroom in the pines

Good morning, Taft Point, sitting on a 1500 foot fall

An outstanding day. Proper tea for breakfast and then a shift back to the slacklLine. All of Taft Point was ours to soak up sun and take down oatmeal. Deer wondered about as people walked across a thin strap. Orbit and Red got in on the action by rigging up a harness that allowed them to slide across the chasm while seated under the line. I had my fatherhood to consider and passed. Instead I played tour guide to the various folks who began to wander in. Their reactions priceless when they first rounded the bend and saw Slack or Max out on the line. One Irish lady said in a thick Dublin accent “Oh Christ, will you look at the balls on that one!” I couldn’t agree more.

Red Beard doing his thing

Orbit trying out slack line

Showtime over, we packed up our gear and took down the line. Elliot logged the 80 pound gear bag the mile back up the hill as is the Marine mentality. We carpooled back down to the valley floor for sandwiches and farewells. Back to four we decided to continue up the Yosemite Valley toward the Tuoleme Meadows and the PCT rather than try the hitchhiking route.

Our goal was half Dome and beyond. This is a very popular hiking route in Yosemite. Every day 400 permits to climb half Dome’s steel cable staircase are issued. The hike is so popular up to Nevada Falls (at the 3 mile point of the 8 mile hike to Half Dome) that the trail is actually paved. The juxtaposition of my grubbiness and speed to the pristine condition of the hikers around me was fun to experience. The trail climbed straight up the river valley, passing through a short tunnel then emerged into the mist trail.

Nevada Falls although both viewers have ADD

There the pounding of Nevada Falls coated hikers in an air-conditioned fine spray. Then straight up a stone staircase to the plateau above Nevada Falls. The fine engineers of Yosemite knew that the straightest line between two points was the fastest way to get there. They shared none of their PCT brethren’s affection for switchbacks.

A fine swim in a deep pool above the falls capped that part of the hike and reawakened the senses. All the while battling aggressive, engorged squirrels intent on reading our snack bags. Read the sad, cautionary tale of a teenager who had been swept over the Nevada Falls on June 1, and whose body had yet to be found. More straight stair climbing brought us above yet another falls and then a straight march to the trail juncture for Half Dome. As bears were known to roam here we piled our packs on top of a very large boulder, perhaps out of their reach.

Half Dome with moon and steel cable in view

Unburdened, and with climbing papers of dubious quality, we flew the 2 miles up Half Dome.The path morphed more from a wide thoroughfare to a narrow stone staircase and finally the famous steel cable route. The last family of four on the mountain were just exiting the cable route as we arrived. They graciously turned the keys to the dome over to us. With leftover gloves we scampered up. The climb up looks tough and it is tough. Every year there are fatalities from falls and lightning strikes. I was impressed with the wide variety of skills and capabilities that make the climb every day.

The steel cable route but with picture turned vertically

On top, a giant boulder playground to run about. But first a rotating sit down. It took quite a while to soak in the 360° of awe. Such a sweep of mountains. I strolled through the cairn towers of rocks that commemorated the dead ancestors of climbers. Added a few myself. Then a nap on a slope that overlooked the Yosemite Valley. But all good things run out of time. As the sun went down so did we. Ass first or face first is the choice. Ass first is the bigger thrill, I’ll leave it to the imagination which we chose.

On top of Half Dome, me NOT

On solid ground we raced the dark back to rescue our packs. Reburdened we took off in the moonlight in search of water, rumored to be scarce along this trail. After a mile the rumors proved misleading. Flatness abounded amongst the pines for a bedroom, couscous on someone’s leftover fire, and to sleep in record time, satisfied with a day well played.

Taft Point sunset

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 54 – What’s 1,500 feet among friends?

Trapped

Awoke to grayness and rain that still hung around unwanted like a headache. Struggled to leave shelter but an exit into the elements is eventually mandatory. Packed away damp and headed for the post office/breakfast. The breakfast shack opened its doors first And I had a bland, overpriced breakfast saved by a large bottle of fiery Thai cock sauce. As the postmaster slumbered I ran into Billy Goat, a through-hiker with a full gray beard, he has hiked the PCT more times than anybody bothers to count. Well-known and easily recognizable, he is quite the celebrity and hiking circles.

Red Beard with green boa received in care package

Finally the window rose to package world and the USPS came through once again. Both packages were there and soon we were stuffing brownies and caramels down our gullet in the drizzle. Thanks Cirina. Finished the bounce box shuffle in record time as plans were finalized around me. Then my bounce box began its journey to Sierra city and I down the Yosemite Valley. Two options ride or walk. The walk was 20+ miles, the ride 45 minutes. Always ride, when you don’t have to walk, especially when 2600 miles of footwork shadows you. Thumbs out, a short interlude, and a ride all the way into the valley from a couple of fellow hiker trash.

The entry into Yosemite Valley is an experience rather than a sight. Immensity, monster falls, sheerness and tourists, tourist everywhere. The combination is reasonable due to the charisma. Our destination was Camp Four also known as Climbers Central. There we found Max, Slack’s friend who had driven down from San Francisco, loaded with slack line gear. Slack lining is the modern cousin of tight rope walking. The difference is slack lining involves walking on a 1 to 2 inch strap rather than a rope. Some slack lines were rigged up in Camp Four and us newbies gave it a shot. I was quickly convinced that I did not, nor would ever, possess the requisite balance.

A plan cracked the egg. The five of us piled in Max’s Prius hybrid and climbed 4000 feet above the valley floor to Taft’s Point. A short hike brought us to the lookout and a sheer drop. There Slack and Max began the process of improvising a slack line short of a variety of required bits and pieces. The slack line was minimalized to functionality. Taking advantage of pre-existing bolts the slack line stretched 100 feet between two rock juts on the same cliff. From fall contact point to slack line was 1500 feet in altitude.

Alternative route for the PCT as Slack walks on with backpack

The crowd that gathered was small due to the lateness of the day. The mood was similar to NASCAR with its risk/destruction fascination. My heart raced as Max and Slack rigged the line without safety harnesses. Standing inches from the edge, they went about their business, oblivious to doom. I practiced wincing at a safe distance.

Slack in Shiva dance

The river below

Nap time

The first step out onto the line and Slack was home again. From my valley experience, I understood the challenge and was that much more impressed. Eyes forward for scale, hands out and up in a Shiva dance, Slack made his way across, then a 180° turn and back again. The most non-dangerous, dangerous looking thing I’ve ever seen. Also it was very interesting from a sport angle. There was nothing aggressive about it, it was almost feminine in its beauty. As comfort levels improved, tricks appeared. Eventually Slack took a purposeful dive to check his safety harness. It held, as the alternative was unthinkable. (Some slack liners enjoy free soloing without the safety harness. To each his own). Back and forth went Slack and Max, the latter trying out a horizontal plank for giggles.

Eventually the sun took a dive and we tried to pick out the headlamps of the climbers making their way up El Capitan on the other side of the valley. The goal: To beat 24 hours, though the record is two hours five minutes, which is analogous to the marathon record. Found a spot back in the trees to savor civilization as Max is a tea importer. There, around the fire, we were treated to a Chinese tea tasting. Cup, after sample cup, as I tried to detect the highlighted subtleties. It was the obvious ending to an unusual day.

Slack was on top of the world, as not only had he indulged in his passion, but also his twin brother Elliot had brought a reunion. Recently returned from a stint in Afghanistan, and still in the Marines, they had not embraced in over a year. Having driven from Washington, Elliott was obviously in pain as he watched his brother over the chasm and wondered just how truncated the reunion would be.

The conversation centered around IED explosives and tea which blended well. Sleep came easy as the rivers of China coursed through my veins. And through the night the slack line waited in anticipation of the mornings efforts.

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 53 – Rainbows in the muck and music for Fumiko (sort of )

June 24. 2013
21 miles today
Mile 942

The suspicious clouds from the day before confirmed their ill intent by dumping rain and snow on us through the night. Poked my head out of my tent and saw that the wind had turned the weather horizontal. I pulled my head back in. Everything can wait in such times. I wrote three days worth of blog entries until the thing that can’t wait couldn’t anymore. Out into it.

The weather let up enough to break down camp. All my warm clothes put away as they must stay dry for the evenings. Normal hiking clothes with rain pants and jacket where the wardrobe of the day. Move faster to warm faster. Had some cold oatmeal to warm an empty colon and was off. Right off a sweet kiss from mother nature in the form of a low rainbow over our lake of the night. I smiled, then winced at the slap in the face as the horizontal rain returned. Outside my tent it stung.

Departure rainbow

And so it went throughout the day. Rain, sleet or snow depending on your altitude. Shoes soaked, but the rest of me relatively warm and dry. All that needed to be was stuffed in a giant garbage bag inside my pack and thus also stayed dry. Was actually pretty fun cheating the weather of its abuse. While crossing a log bridge over a river she proved her cunning. Waiting until I was far enough out she sent a mighty gust of wind. I dropped to my knees to avoid going into the drink. The gust died out and I made a run for it. The follow up gust blew me off the bridge at the midpoint. Luckily there was a support column halfway which I landed on rather then a swim. Point mother nature.

Donahue Pass in summer

Ran into Double Sprainbow and Olie (?), two through-hikers who dropped off the trail at Lonepine to get hitched. Now knotted, this storm was part of their honeymoon.

Climbed up over 12,000 feet to Donahue pass, the gateway into Yosemite. Turned and said my farewell to The Ansel Adams wilderness. The weather at this altitude had murderous intentions and I did not linger. My destination was a warmer meadow some 3000 feet down where my picnic awaited.

As I flew down through the slop I came eye to eye with a four point buck. He won the stare down as the devil was on my tail and patience was short.

Crossed paths with multiple southbound hikers in various states of preparedness for what was to come. Came upon a group of sullen teenagers slogging upward. I smiled inwardly remembering my time working at Outward Bound. I guessed these kids were three or four days out from their attitude. After the adrenaline had worn off but before the toughening and Esprit de Corps kicked in.

Planed out at the meadow. The weather hung around. Lunch was damp tortilla, Swiss cheese and sausage burritos with suicidal mozzies joining the downward passage. Delicious! Got to thinking about why toilet bowl water spins in different directions above and below the equator. Anything to get my head out of the weather. The rest of the hike involved a long, flat, beautiful glide down the Lionel Canyon Meadows. The serpentine River accompanied by every step and provided the soundtrack. After 10 miles or so i dumped into Tuoleme Meadows And it’s seasonal civilization.

Some PCT trivia. This year 1000 through hiking permits were pulled. Probably 700 to 800 hikers are actually on the trail. If historical averages hold, probably 400 to 500 will complete the entire 2660 miles on foot. It is a record number of hikers.

Arrived at the TM store and finally caught up with Orbit, Red Beard and Slack. The store had closed 30 minutes earlier so I missed picking up my bounce box and devastatingly the fresh brownies that Cirina had overnighted. Breakfast it is. To make up for it, Red had bought me a cheeseburger and lovingly wrapped it in his sleeping bag To keep it warm. Compassion is something Red has in spades. Watch him in action and that is obvious. Washed the burger down with one of Orbits beers and all was right with the world.

Home was a campground behind the store. Had the good fortune to find a campsite with warm coals in the fire pit and a supply of wood Eager to burn. Couscous as a burger chaser. And then veggie, a through hiker, wandered over with his guitar and played some StorySongs. Even played Rockytop which was Fumiko’s favorite until Justin Bieber came along. Fell asleep in my tent still being serenaded by music played as it should be.

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 52 – Tent Cities & Mountain Overseers

June 23, 2013
15 miles today
921 miles total

Slow to rise from the darkness of my loft, but one of Slack’s mammoth Mammoth breakfasts demanded. Our town departures are like trudging up molasses mountain, slow and nonprogressive. This one was no different. It is tough to Leave the soft and loving embrace of civilization.

At 11 AM the new group arrived and we took that as our cue to depart for the mountains. We made it as far as the coffee shop, two blocks away. After stimulus and more button pushing we were off. To the hills, or the mammoth version of Schatz bakery, whichever came first. After a couple of bear claws, we committed to the bus stop, though some argued for lunch.

Devils Post Pile

Public transport delivered us once again to Red’s meadow where we rejoined the flow of the river PCT. Heavy packs and gallons of ice cream slowed the initial progress. I passed the Devils Post Pile, which reminded me of rock french fries stuck together that were one by one peeling off. Soon there came a fork in the road. The JMT (John Muir Trail) and the PCT split for a while before rejoining. The JMT is harder and more stunning. Stunning every time.

Blow down from distance

The pace picked up as the miles piled on and the town lethargy slipped away. I wound past lakes and under mountains filled with snowy crags and cathedral spires. The weather was obviously going south as the clouds built around the mountains. So the hurry was on to reach camp. But care was required. Around every water point swarms of zombie mosquitoes lurked. I knew from World War Z that if I was quiet and moved steadily I could slip past unmolested. But if I lingered or made a noise, blood would be drawn. I lost about a pint due to clumsiness.

Mountain Overseer

Camp was around a dramatic lake guarded by a mountain overseer. The lake was crowded with campers and all but the very last campsite were occupied. The last site however, so hard to get to, was the very best. We crowded our tents onto the only flat spot and set up shop. Tonight was a super moon, When the moon is closest to earth. It teased us with light for sometime before making its conversation stopping, grand entrance over the lip of a mountain. The clouds around it returned to daylight with illumination. When the moon was fully up, I went fully down.

Good night Overseer

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 50 – Rock Jambalaya, National Naked Hiking Day – Oh My!

June 21, 2013
15 miles today
906 miles total

Explain this one

Awoke to cold sunshine and a warm fire. The lure of a town destination sped my departure. It was resupply time, which was obvious as I put my pack on. No food equals a happy back. Left camp and started down a chaotic valley. At some recent point the front of a mountain had sheared off and collapsed onto the valley floor. The result was rock jambalaya. Must’ve been quite a show.

Took stock of 50 days on the trail and decided to put in an order for 50 more. Quite the lifestyle. Today was national naked hiking day. Probably the most noncommercial, non-corrupted holiday on the American calendar. What can you market to a naked hiker? As I passed various naked hikers they seemed to be moving quickly. It was cold. Sorry, no photos.

The trail rolled on for a while and then decided to stay high in the Pines. Came upon a six point buck and had a sociable stare down at 50 feet. Both of us lost interest at about the same time and moved on. Eventually the path switchback dropped down through a wasteland that was part fire burn and part trees Snapped off at the midpoint. I learned later the sequence. 11 years ago there was a fire that weakened the forest. A year and a half passed, and a tremendous wind storm passed through. It was similar to a tornado without the cone. Wind microbursts of 180 mph were recorded. That violence was the tree snapper. The PCT became a chain sawed tunnel through a wasteland of downed trees.

Blowdown

Arrived at Reds Meadow, a well-known pack station. Here in 1971 Richard Nixon planed to build the Sierra freeway as a crossover point through the Sierras. Of all people, Gov. Ronald Reagan showed up for a horse ride, fell in love with the place, and subsequently led the victorious fight against construction. Kudos to Mr. Reagan on that one.

Fire and blowdown

Ordered my chocolate shake and sat down in the shade. Tragedy interrupted affairs rudely, as is its nature, when Slack learned that his Australian friend, Luke, had died base jumping in Moab, Utah. He took it hard. Sudden cell phone coverage, after days or weeks without, always brings an avalanche of news. You just never know what kind.

A hitch brought us to downtown Mammoth Lakes. A new plan was hatched. Instead of Motel Six, why not try to rent an off-season ski condo. So while everyone waited in front of Vons, I walked into a real estate office and stated my proposal. Of course the agent there, Jess, owned a condo in Kiana resorts, a somewhat defunct development some 25 minutes north of me in Costa Rica. We hit it off as we discussed folks we knew in common. She called her friend, and soon after we were the two night owners of a condo, a block away, that slept seven. All the amenities and a Jacuzzi for less than the drab and mundane motel anonymous.

Home sweet home accomplished, it was errand time. Food and gear were restocked. Repairs made. Stomach occupied by a burrito that measured 6″ x 10″ taste irrelevant. Residents for the night, Blast (myself), Slack, Orbit, Red Beard, Drop Biscuit and Lorax. All was in order for tomorrow’s complete and total feet up zero. As my head hit the pillow and my backside the mattress, I marveled at the wonder of a bed. But not for long, as I was gone.

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 49 – Warm fire, hot oatmeal, obese Marmot, mating partridges

June 20. 2013
27 miles today
892 miles total

As the bear failed to make a return engagement I was able to sleep in. My start slowed further by the fact that Orbit had built a fire. Tearing oneself away from a warm fire on a cold morning to climb a pass requires a buildup of willpower that needs time. Even tried hot oatmeal, but change can be dangerous. Will stay with my precedent of 48 days of cold oatmeal.

Pass view

Having left the aptly named valley of evolution I climbed Selden Pass. Sometimes the biorhythms are humming and today was one of those days. I climbed alone and make good time. The path wound upward twisting with the course of the water that carved the valley, the glaciers that formed it long departed. I would force myself to stop often and absorb the beauty around, especially the waterfalls, but a curious physiological sensation occurs every time I stop. Blood seems to collect in the legs making re-hiking difficult for a couple of minutes. It is easier to simply maintain a paced chug up the hill. I crested the pass and had it to myself, a twirl of vision and then, what to do but go down.

Spilled milk

The valley down-flowed with lakes and waterfalls. Bookcasing the water were massive granite slabs that kept sunrises late and sunsets early. The lower I went, the more dramatic it became. Adjectives begin to fail. As they say 1000 words and photos wouldn’t begin to capture it. Take a hike there and see for yourselves.

Picture of 100 words

Altitude called and I received a lashing of switchbacks. Then an unusual section that traversed a high, flat plain through thick pine forest. The path was straight and direct, which is very unlike the PCT. It reminded me of the Appalachian Trail. The hiking was soft and smooth. I grew complacent. The hammer blow was sudden and brutal. The High plains ended and a freefall of 100 switchbacks ensued. At the bottom, just add water to knee cartilage and you have Jell-O for lunch.

On the way down, I ran into Story Time, the vanguard of the southbound stone boners, a group of individuals who occasionally skip ahead and return south dispensing medical agriculture to all those in need. The trail swims with hiking characters.

Lunch is what I did at the bottom. Found a nice boulder in the lee of a bridge and stuffed my face to the background of crashing water. The fact that I had planned my food well for seven days, i.e. exactly what I needed with no leftovers or shortages, brought me pleasure. The biting no see ums did not.

Obese Marmot sunning

Post lunch was yet another climb. This one a civilized 6-mile 3,000 foot gradual climb to Silver Pass, through more of the same tedious waterfalls, bizarre rock formations and soaring pines. The only highlight being a surprise snowman, concocted by Orbit, that waited in ambush around a corner.

The accompanying music was the deep bass wump-wump of mating, perhaps partridges? Tried to remember to take photos, as this was the first trip in my lifetime carrying a camera. But remembering at the summit was easy as the views were so magnificent that they demanded camerawork.

The pace picked up over the final 6 miles of the day as we closed the gap between us and Mammoth, our next resupply point. I blew out the jets a bit just to feel what it was like to move faster than 3 mph. Skidded to a halt at Virginia Lake, a Swiss style mountain lake, whose beauty caused Orbit to shout out “Oh my God!” at first sight.

Virginia Lake

Crossed to the far shore on jumping rocks and set up home. For the first time on the PCT frogs sang me a lullaby.

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 48 – Sun-kissed morning and naked hikers

Awoke to intense light. Felt like a dream I couldn’t escape from, no matter how I shifted. Turns out the door to the hive hut has a 16″ x 16″ window, and I had chosen to sleep where the
morning sun poured through that window and focused on my head. Thus anointed I had no choice but to arise.

Valley goal

Spoke with Drop Biscuit who was taking the ESPN challenge. Translated every Sierra pass naked. All so far for her photo documented, worthy and honorable goal.

Water on the move

Headed down from the pass quickly as all the water sources were frozen and I was thirsty. Lost the race to warmth and had to layer up as the wind was sharp and cut deep. The descent today was incredibly pleasant. It was inconceivably long, about 20 miles, and therefore easy because it was so gradual. Also it was a reverse mirror recreation of yesterday’s ascent. Like watching a great movie from a whole new angle. Finally, whoever created all this had the good sense to install a fissure in the Earth’s crust that allowed hot water to make its way to the surface right at the end of the descent.

Trail cut

Never one to pass up hot springs, I along with Orbit, Slack and Red, made the mile and a half detour off the PCT. The springs were earned as we had to cross a fairly dicey river twice to get to them. On my first crossing I was actually spun 360° by the current, but managed to stay on my feet throughout the entire dance. Caught a small garter snake as I exited the river with frozen feet.

Fairytale trail

The springs were divine. Perfectly deep and hot, slightly sulphery and floored with fine mud. The sensation of deeply cooked water passing up through one’s toes must be imagined. My reluctance to break my bond with the hot springs was painful. A return through the ice river and a steep climb returned us to the PCT. Then payment for the days descent, as a series of violent switchbacks returned us to altitude.

Muir Pass and Me

Muir Pass

Hunger had the upper hand as I arrived at our lakeside campsite. A large bear was running amok charging campsites, but I was too tired to worry about anything but couscous. Fortunately James, a newly minted paramedic, paid a visit with three Freshly caught trout in hand. Diet supplemented I was content as I, as well as the bear, retired from the days activities.

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!

Special Happy Birthday Wish To My Very Special Daughter (July 1)

Dear Fumiko!

Happy birthday. I miss you.

Love,
Daddy

July 1, 2013 – Satellite party for my daughter’s 10th birthday. Happy Birthday, Fumiko!

Day 47 – Hive planking on the Muir Pass

Camping next to a river is sometimes a good idea, last night was the other part. By the time I left the fire micro environment, condensation had soaked my sleeping bag. So I set up my tent in the dark and crawled into it to escape the wet. Awoke to ice crystals.

Pass job

The objective today ambitious. Cross Mather Pass, descend the golden staircase, cross the everlasting Muir Pass, fly down the other side and camp at Wanda Lake. We almost made it, but as always that really wasn’t the point.

Pass back side

Myself, and the ice crystals waited for the warmth of the sun to make its way down the valley wall. Thus the start was late at around 830. Climbed, and quickly arrived in a mammoth amphitheater above the tree line. From my low point a spin showed my eyes mountains in every direction. I kept my attention alert as yesterday Red Beard had seen a wolf at about this same altitude.

Trail shower

The path up to Mather pass was well laid out and not a grind at all. From the High Point the Valleyview north was a showstopper. Sheer grey walls poured cascades of spilled milk down to the pined carpets that floored the valley bottom. This water in turn filled lakes that would overflow by waterfall to the next lower brother lake. I spent much of the day following along listening to their music. The race of water downhill always beating me. Even when we parachuted down the golden staircase the water was speedier in descent.

Slide rock

At The bottom of the valley of the Palisades I took a dogleg right for the valley of the Kings. Now I was moving uphill against the current of water, altitude and my own limitations. The pass lived up to its reputation as a hard-hard pass to reach. Again and again what appeared to be the pass was just a trick played on your certainty. I climbed out of forest, and into stunted trees, then shrubs, to grasslands and finally just rock and snow. Each successive bowl holding yet another lake and the promise of more climbing ahead. It felt like a ladder that might not have a destination.

Bridge dancing

Slack hive planking at Muir pass

The muir hut at end of day

The day grew late and the stomach empty. Finally, climbing over a snowbank at 7 p.m., I spotted a hive-shaped pile of rocks that spoke of man-made. This was the John Muir hut built in 1930 by the Sierra Club. It resembled the charcoal kilns of death Valley. The hives insulating qualities proved to charismatic and the night was passed listening to the wind.

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: hiking to help the kids

Day 58 – One Thousand Miles! (and still a blood bag)

Day 55 – Half Dome awe and a bedroom in the pines

Day 54 – What’s 1,500 feet among friends?

Day 53 – Rainbows in the muck and music for Fumiko (sort of )

Day 52 – Tent Cities & Mountain Overseers

Day 50 – Rock Jambalaya, National Naked Hiking Day – Oh My!

Day 49 – Warm fire, hot oatmeal, obese Marmot, mating partridges

Day 48 – Sun-kissed morning and naked hikers

Special Happy Birthday Wish To My Very Special Daughter (July 1)

Day 47 – Hive planking on the Muir Pass