August 6, 2013
37 miles today
Mile 1829 on the PCT

Back to it at 5:30 as today is to be long. The first thought popped into my head, “The future just happened. Get used to it.” Its original, I think but I have no idea where it came from. Maybe it is in response to the “live in the present” talk that is common on the PCT. Anyway it stayed in my head bouncing around. Got the others up. Slack seemed low energy and unenthusiastic. He talked about not being able to keep up. I encouraged and sympathized, but in the end these are only words to give. Hiking is a solo sport. It is up to the individual to both move and decide how far to move. Each to his abilities and skills. Never have I seen anything so independent.

Orbit and I set off at the same time. I ran by her my solution to yesterday’s long-suffering jigsaw, as I have come to respect her opinion on such matters. With some minor tweaking she signed off. All good, I greeted the tardy sun to my right.

Caught up with Max and Slack and took a break to layer down. There I realized I had left half my solar charger on a log back at camp. Without it I am Taylor Swift less. I contemplated a 14 mile return trip to where I was standing now. Weighing balance, Taylor went mute. Still there was hope. Slack’s sweeping abilities are legendary and Veggie told me Slack was last out of camp. At second breakfast, Slack appeared smiling, I smiled, and Taylor sang.

More miles to go. Crossed over a long slag heap of shale. The flat rocks rang like bells when I stepped on them, but even there I couldn’t make music. Came to the last stream before a 20 mile waterless stretch. The GPS called it a northbound water alert. The stream itself was full of horseshit and swarming with hundreds of newborn toads. A last chance to drink a lot and carry a lot. The camel theory works.

The trail passed through a long burnt section. The fire must have been moving fast as the trees seem to have been singed to death. Their skeletons bunched the trail. Not long ago a chunk of burned tree had fallen and missed me by about 6 feet. So I was conscious as I moved through the fried landscape. Survived to arrive at a shaded lunch.

Post lunch I dragged and the others pulled away. I pissed and moaned internally about the weight of the water, the crappy air and aging. Finally got bored of grousing and popped in Taylor. As always she explained the tragedies of romance to me in such a way that I was shortly back up to speed. The body always stronger then the mind allows it to be.

Crossed paths with a southbound Triple Crowner. (Has completed the PCT, AT, and CDT.) Born in Israel, he had come to the states to hike and never left nor stopped. We chatted and departed as is the way. At mile 37, came to a lonely highway. Turned east and marched toward Mazama Village and it’s delights. After a mile I shortcutted across a patch of forest. There my toe to a stump. It took 20 feet of flailing before I finally went down. Point of impact, same scabs as last time. Ahhh the hiking life.

Crawled out of the forest and joined my friends for liquid. Then I met two huskies who had convinced their owners to take in the PCT with them. Then to all-you-can-eat soup and salad. Followed by generously donated pizza. Our hunger an aura that hovers above us. A return to my bloody forest for a homestead. I cowboy camped. Slack set up his tent. His good night consisted of “I heard a thunder storm is coming.” I looked up at Sagan’s billions. Weather forecasts are for fools being my final thought.

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

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