Tag Archives: PCT

Day 93 – Where I become a film critic

August 3, 2013
9 miles
mile 1736

A genuine sleep in. And then an hour wait to gaze upon morning glories and take breakfast at the restaurant, Morning Glory. Worth the wait for the huge and unusual breakfast. The waiter warned me of my over order. I smiled. He back. Both confident in our positions. I chewed on the last sprig of parsley, my smile retained as well as consumption victory in the bag.

Moved back to downtown. Orbit to hunt for new shoes. Myself to the Christian Science reading room to write. The woman monitoring the empty room said, “Well, you’re only supposed to study religious material here.” My reply “My writing is somewhat spiritual.” “Why not?”, she sparkled.

Afternoon arrived and we took in the matinee, “The Way Back,” which was a small, excellent coming-of-age story. Check it out if the opportunity presents. The opening scene magic. Afterwards had ice cream for lunch where we ran into Sundog and Giggles. They filled us in on upcoming fires in Oregon and their possible effects on the trail. I’ve always loved the coming attraction part. Then Slack strolled in with his buddy Alex, our taxi ride back to the trailhead. The sound of Velcro being pulled apart was heard as we were torn away from the ice cream parlor. It was 4 PM.

Waved goodbye to the fine town and even remembered to grab my water bottle from Alex’s car, though Slack did not. While he hunted the shoulders of the road for a new one, Orbit and I set off. To pass the time, we conducted a postmortem of the film. Then I took a break and strolled the last miles into camp in silence. Upon arrival I listened to the news of the day. Orbit had seen a bear and Slack had shared the path with a squirrel for a quarter of a mile. I watched the video. The squirrel would run along about 10 feet ahead. Then stop and beckon Slack to pick up the pace. It was adorable.

Pilot Rock

Pilot Rock


Perhaps I solved the mystery of the exploding bluejays. Today I passed Pilot Rock where a sign informed that Peregrine Falcons nest there. Mated for life and always returning to the same nest for egg laying. Diving at 200 mile an hour, prey tends to explode upon contact with a falcon. As I observed a pigeon do once in Washington D.C. when a falcon decided it was lunchtime. Riddle explained?

Couscous and then to the reading mat. Studs Terkel’s, “The Good War,” an oral history of World War II, is the selection on tap in my personal reading room. In it he interviews a generation called on to do things that mine was not. I fell asleep jealous and relieved at the same time.

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 92 – Pseudo criminals and frou-frou cocktails

August 2, 2013
4 miles
mile 1727

Woke up feeling surprisingly normal. Orbit also felt no ill effects. Coasted down to the familiar I-5 for the hitch into Ashlandia. A truck showed up shortly and dropped off a hiker. Orbit and I jumped in for the turnaround. And listened to the driver’s hard luck story of an inescapable criminal past that haunted his present. Both financially and prospects wise. “I mean what if I were to pull a gun out and rob you guys at the halfway point.” I’m just not that kind of a guy. But the system treats me like I am. I was glad for the hypothetical bent. Meanwhile Orbit is texting goodbye to friends and family in the backseat. Then he filled us in on a recent decapitation in Ashland. The Forest was sounding safer and safer.

Still, in the end, a cool guy and an interesting ride. He dropped us off next to the post office and I flipped him some cash for gas and to help with the hardluck. We parted well. Recaptured my bounce box and headed for breakfast. My familiar oatmeal immediately tapped out to Spanish omelette with chorizo. Then to the shop and kart where Orbit figured out a way around sending resupply boxes out ahead. Basically carry more food. Weight versus hassle and cost. Life simplified, we went back into town and met up with the recently arrived Slack.

Deer in downtown Ashland

Deer in downtown Ashland


Slack had multiple friends of friends in Ashland, so we waited in front of the co-op for him to arrange a home. These things take time, so I put myself to work observing life in Ashland. The world was alive in front of the co-op. Musicians jammed, panhandlers asked and the liberal world supported their co-op. People had time and many stopped to chat about through hiking. It was a good place to wait. And wait. Dinner approached with home still a horizon event. So Orbit and I, still draped in the stench of 50 miles, decided a shower was more important than money.

Tracked down a room in an old Art Deco motel that still had an attached garage. Renewed, we met Slack and his friends downtown for a massive Italian feed washed down with froufrou cocktails. Then on to an album release party at a local bar. The place was packed and electric with energy. The band good at times but leaning toward jamming. My least favorite form of music. To my mind music for musicians and not the audience. But clearly, I was in the minority judging from the enthusiastic reaction of the crowd.

The miles creeped up and sedated me. Soon we left the dancers to the dance of 2013. I preferred to go to sleep in the 50s. And probably the music too.

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 91 – Walking through the Stars

August 1, 2013
51 miles
mile 1723

The cathedral bells sounded at the appointed hour and I groaned enthusiastically. Orbit was in the same boat and already stirring. Needing coffee kept her in camp longer, so I was first to the trail. The plan was 40 miles give or take. On the trail by 4 AM and manufacturing miles. My strategy for a big day is to throttle back just a little and not push hard. That way the miles still come but without the accompanying exhaustion. Long hours will take care of the distance. And eat a lot, and then eat some more. I once gained 2 pounds during a 100 mile race so I know of what I speak.

Alpine desert at dark 30

Alpine desert at dark 30


Moved along in my private bubble of light feeling alone and content in the world. Every once in a while I shut off the light and went to still. The vast quiet electric. But the best part is the melding of the night sky with the forest. To me, in normal hours, the sky is remote and separate from the world I live in. I have no connection to it. But at 4:30 AM, on top of a mountain, I feel like I’m walking through the stars. I’ll leave it at that.
Dawn at 10 miles

Dawn at 10 miles


The stages of light arrived. In procession. I began to be able to make out the animals behind the glowing eyes. I followed one deer’s tracks down the path for more than three miles. Orbit caught up to me and then the deer, a six-point buck. For whatever reason, the early miles a burden, but I kept gently pushing and aggressively eating. The milkshakes finally wore off and my pace picked up. As I passed through a long meadow and it’s resident crows, I realized that I would soon leave California after 88 days and 1698 miles of trail. What a great, and very long state. My thanks for the hospitality and good times.
Orbit becomes an Oregon resident

Orbit becomes an Oregon resident

Yep

Yep


Welcome to the hotel Oregon. Such a lovely place, such a lovely place. Signed the register after 26 miles and walked into Oregon. Was it Orbit or I first mentioned a half-century as we entered Oregon. Probably it’s best to blame Orbit as she is the more fanatical hiker. But really why not 50 miles? The math worked, I think. Or at least she said so. I just kept going, which is the only way I know of to pileup miles.

A big event. Collided with the first southbound hiker of the season. His name was Bobcat. Had a great chat comparing notes. He was shooting to arrive at the Mexican border by the end of September. He told us that there were about 80 northbound hikers in front of us. This made sense as we were running into fewer and fewer hikers on the trail. We parted on opposite paths not to meet again.

At mile 43

At mile 43


The path kept climbing, eventually depositing us on a barren ridge line. The wind picked up and threw haze and clouds over the crest. The sun dimmed and we cut through it all. Forty miles came and went. The temperature went down the stairs into the basement. I put my down jacket on. The atmosphere turned a good spooky. And then, Eureka, a catch of warm mountain dew at mile 43. Caffeine breeds adrenaline. A long downhill breeds speed. Adrenaline plus speed equals goal arrival. How’s that for algebra?

That goal was the Ashland Inn. The night took over. The day began with headlamps and would end with them. I came upon Orbit stopped on the trail. The tracks on the path plus noises in the bush plus darkness made company a good idea. I agreed. In good spirits, our yapping was wide-ranging as we closed in on the Inn. It’s menu ever-expanding in our optimistic imagination. The path itself began to collect its toll. A cut here, a stubbed toe there, but it didn’t matter because the beer was going to be delicious. Or not.

Collapsing meadow house as Oregon border approaches

Collapsing meadow house as Oregon border approaches


The Inn was a shadow within a shadow. A table and a tap was all that was available. On them the sign read welcome PCT hikers. Enjoy but no camping. What to do but push on. All went to slope. Finally a dip to a road. There, some flat bordering an ominous looking fence. A close examination of the sign on the fence. “If you can read this you are within range.” Maybe not this flat. Kept putting the nose northward. Tired now. All the dew used up. And then a cairn. And some steps up a slope. And a home. 10:30 PM. 51 miles in the bank after 18 hours on the move. Right on. A blurred dinner and my next memory was the sunrise.

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 90 – Blackberries being the theme of the day

July 31, 2013
27 miles
miles 1672

All left early, but I remained in my office. Down until my constitution, location limited to a long straight dirt road. Looking back I discovered a misperception. Alone I was not. Rabbit Stick remained in his red sleeping bag, yellow pack to the side. The walk to constitutional liberation turned long. There were no curves,. Privacy required passing the horizon. The mandates of decorum met, I returned to pack. As I passed Rabbit Stick I said good morning to a red log and an old, rusted out, yellow gas can. Hallucinations, both real and imagined, are ever present in the forest.

Packs awaiting mules

Packs awaiting mules


Shortcut

Shortcut


All downhill to Seid Valley, accompanied by the crash of Creekwater. I sped up as there were burgers and shakes in that Yonder Valley. Passed over a wooden culvert held together barrel style with metal straps. Ancient beyond me. Emerged from the forest and onto a dirt road which then morphed into asphalt. Road walking is free from obstacles so I left reality behind. Wondered around in my thoughts picking and choosing. Brought back to reality after an hour or so by a sense of desire. The road was lined with blackberries. Few walk these roads, so they were all there for me, and free, so I took more than three. The burgers could wait as I ate my way to stomach pain distention.
Sometimes the PCT follows a road

Sometimes the PCT follows a road


Dyed purple I strolled across the Klamath River and into the Seid Valley Café where I ordered a blackberry shake on a trend. And kept on ordering lunches and shakes. Full past full, I went outside to the picnic table to plan my resupply for the next 2 1/2 days. There are two theories of resupply. Buy as you go or send packages of food to yourself at prearranged destinations. I am of the former. The picnic table was crowded with the latter. The surplus bountiful. I was handed enough of the leftover bounty to accomplish my resupply without entering the store.
You never know what you will see on the trail

You never know what you will see on the trail


The sun had turned hot, as the 4,000 foot climb got underway out of Seid Valley. A fire had burned off the forest umbrella so that same sun went to work on my milkshakes. Between too much food at lunch and the new food in my pack I felt like I was pulling a Vons shopping cart behind me. To pass the time I thought about Rabbit Stick’s age numbers. He basically found two significant age groups on the trail. People in their 20s just starting out in their careers, lives etc. And retired people in their 60s. The youngest on the trail he had run into 18, the oldest 75. People in my age group 35 to 50 the rarest because we were enmeshed in capitalism and family. To confirm his findings I thought of all who I was hiking with. All of Orbit and Sons were in their 20s, myself the elder. Thinking of all this did divert the intensity of the sun but it never lightened the cart.
In Costa Rica, it's known as the tourist tree because it resembles a peeling nose

In Costa Rica, it’s known as the tourist tree because it resembles a peeling nose


Spring surrounded by flat called a halt to the day and relief to my pull. We shared our campsite with a trail maintenance crew from AmeriCorps’s. A guitar appeared. Good night turned cold in apology for its counterparts excess. The conversation centered on sustainable building practices. I learned about a new method that involved ramming earth into tires. And then a realization. The post office in Ashland, Oregon was closed on Saturday. To receive and send my bounce box as well as send out resupply boxes for Oregon would require a full postal day. It was Wednesday night, and 55 miles to Ashland. To arrive in Ashland on Friday morning would require a big Thursday. A post office run was called for. The alarm was set for 3:30 AM. The motor revved. Time to put all those shakes to good use.

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 89 – Mio my, all jacked up

July 30, 2013
29 miles
mile 1645

Late to the trail because pen was in hand. My pledge to hike first snapped. Writing at night infeasible for too many reasons to recount. So the cows and I to the trail at 9:30. Their bells providing the rhythm. Why the bells? To scare the bears or make locating them easier were my best guesses. They stopped at the next lake. I kept going. The early trail rough going. Complicated and full of rocks, it required concentration and two-foot drive. I gave it that, as my last fall still smarted.

The trail today followed a narrow altitude band, the floor 6,000 feet, the ceiling 7,000 feet. But within the band it resembled a dribbling basketball. So my progress was honest. The fire in Southern Oregon was still funneling smoke into the local atmosphere so I probably averaged about a pack of cigarettes every 10 miles. Tried to enjoy them, as well as the vistas and scenery, but my hiking was manic. The culprit—mio.

Two foot drive track

Two foot drive track


For those of you not in the know, mio is a water additive. Every day on the trail I cycle liters of water through my system. The taste, especially with water purifying drops, monotonous or nasty. Mio saves the day. A few squirts and suddenly I’m drinking berry pomegranate juice. That’s a smile bringer. Anyway, at the last store only cherry mio with caffeine was available. So today I was slugging what looked like Sangre de Cristo. Not being interested in the taste, theory or habit of coffee I rarely have caffeine in my system. Thus my supercharged hiking up and down the basketball pattern was mysterious to me as was my decision to walk right through lunch. When I finally sat down at two to eat my heart was still racing. I had caught up with Orbit and Slack, who were relaxing around a cabin. I couldn’t stop talking. Slowly it dawned on me, I was completely jacked up on Mio, my future drug of choice.
Good looking hills

Good looking hills


I had entered the Marble Valley, that lay in the shadow of Marble Mountain. A white edifice that resembled the White Cliffs of Dover. Of interest in Dover, the first four blocks inland from the shoreline would have a rowhouse missing here or there. I asked a local “why?” “Oh, the Germans had a big gun in France whose maximum range was four blocks inland here. They would lob a shell over now and then to let us know who was boss. We never rebuilt to remember.”

Came across three spooked female hikers. They jumped when I rounded the bend. Apparently they had come upon two separate bears in one hour. What luck, I had seen one bear in three months. Having left the cabin at three there were some miles still left to cover. We hiked as a group taking turns at lead. The air purer there as we were all ravaged by methane. I stopped for a second. From my angle I spotted an ancient canteen that had been left under a bush probably in the 60s. It was tin and the canvas covering had rotted away. I displayed it on a rock pedestal for those to come.

Triple tree

Triple tree


With conversation as a distraction, the miles dissipated. The path helped as it began a 22 mile descent into Seid Valley. The pace quickened. It felt like five miles an hour, an insane speed. Well you had to be there. Pulled up at Buckhorn Spring in the shadow of a triple tree. Loaded up with water for a dry camp and plunged. Arrived into final camp at 8:30. There Swiss Army, Storytime and Rabbit Stick were already laid out.
The State of Jefferson lives on

The State of Jefferson lives on


Rabbit stick was gathering ages of all the hikers he came across searching for an average. So far it was around 28 years old. Today we tried to come up with all the names of the hikers we had met. Made it to 110 trail names. Back to Rabbit Stick. He was the first American and 11th overall to row across the Atlantic. It took him five months of unsupported rowing to arrive in Florida from Africa. In his head he meticulously restored over 200 Ford model A’s in those five months to keep mentally occupied. He found that preferable to tackling the big questions of life. At 70 now he looks like he’s ready to row back. Inspired, as I lay down, I hummed “row row your boat” as my lullaby ticket to dreamland. And, no, I did not consider repeating his feat. Really.

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 88 – In memory of Pat

July 29, 2013
10 miles
mile 1616

PCT annual conference post ice cream

PCT annual conference post ice cream


The usual mammoth town breakfast lured us from bed. An early start back to the trail dismissed without discussion. All to errands and resupply. Having to print, sign and fax a document sent me hunting. The library closed, I despaired. I asked the checkout lady at the supermarket. “Oh, go down to the Shell station, walk in the back office, ask for Shana, and tell her Marilyn sent you.” I love small towns. On the way down main street I passed a deer eating a front yard. Assuming it was a pet I tried to pet it. It wasn’t.

Shana took care of my business in a saintly way. She refused payment and said “just pass it on.” Living near the PCT makes people very nice. Packed up by noon and headed for the old-fashioned soda fountain for a chocolate malt. There hikers gathered like flies on….ice cream. The day drifted. The magnet for nonmovement a free barbecue in the park that evening. We tried to break away and made it to the pizza joint next door. A simple meal and then we go. Damn, it had a pool table and beer. The struggle to depart crushed.

And then a hand from the heavens. The woman running the restaurant offered us a ride to the trailhead when she closed up shop at 3:30. Fate beckoned, and we helped her shut things down. A sad farewell to the boys. I motivated them by leaving the first half of a novel. May their testicles soon return to even harmony. A quick drive up, filled with stories of a lifelong Etnaite and then we were back at it.

Unfortunately, my water bottle returned to Etna. Always a problem, do I have, with water bottles. Thus my first 10 miles were waterless. The hike was cool as the Earl Grey fire skies screened out the sun. Slack and I had a long conversation about the transitional point in life he found himself in at the age of 21. I did my best with answers.

Purple haze

Purple haze

Haze daze

Haze daze

Day 88_Christmas tree
Bells heralded our arrival in camp. A large herd of cows being busy polluting the only water source. Dinner and to bed early in an attempt to recapture sleep lost to horseshoes. The bells rang on. I pretended I was in Switzerland, which made the sound romantic, and led to my desired destination.

In memory of Pat Taylor who died today. Pat told me that there was a speed between walking and running. I laughed at her. Then she showed me on a furious hike up the San Francisco peaks. “What the hell are you doing?” I screamed from behind. But I wasn’t laughing anymore nor was I keeping up. In essence Pat taught me how to hike the PCT before I even knew what it was. Everyday I do my Pat Taylor impersonation on the PCT in appreciation. Today I added a rock to my pack. I’ll carry her to Canada and leave her at the trailhead. It’s the best I can do.

So Pat, piss on traditional dying. Keep on hiking like you have a naysayer on your tail. The image I’ll keep is of you pulling away and disappearing round the bend.

Sunset attempt

Sunset attempt

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 87 – Killer Quail and Horseshoes

July 28, 2013
21 miles
mile 1606

Time for the morning commute. The town of Etna on the agenda. Orbit off first. Slack without movement. Then some groans about a mule kicked stomach. I listened to the symptoms. Could be my old nemesis Giardia. A parasite that causes sulfur belches mustard shits and swollen belly. Many of the water sources yesterday had been visited by cows. There, they made no distinction between toilet activities and drinking. Perhaps that was the origin of Slack’s distress.

The two of us got going but it was soon apparent that Slack’s hiking day would not be long. Fortunately, we crossed a highway after a few miles where Slack lay down to his illness. Being horizontal was his only relief. Which is where he stayed, as the traffic was nonexistent. I passed the time speaking with a history teacher who was doing a sectional southbound hike. He told me about the state of Jefferson and it’s near formation.

Tired sign

Tired sign


Jefferson was to include a large chunk of northern Nevada, California and Southern Oregon. The residents of these areas felt that they were being ignored by their respective state capitals. The idea was to break away and form their own state. It was to be named after Jefferson, an advocate of states rights. It’s symbol two crossed axes, because they have been doublecrossed by both politicians and judges. The announcement of succession was made, toll booths were set up on incoming highways, and government structure implementation begun. One small problem, the founding fathers horrific sense of timing. The announcement was made on December 4, 1941, three days before Pearl Harbor. World War II patriotism squashed the dream, but the sentiment runs strong still.
First signs of fire haze

First signs of fire haze


The first vehicle by stopped and whisked Slack away to his fate. His condition worsening, I figured whatever lay ahead had to be better than hiking. The trail confirmed this as today was an up-and-down affair. I climbed to a ridgeline where I caught up with Orbit. She announced that she would hike slowly and savor nature. This was genetically impossible. She tried, and her effort was admirable but her heart wasn’t in it. Soon she was back to the blur of 4 mph. I however stayed with the nature viewing experiment. A fire in Southern Oregon had brought haze. Valleys filled with gray as though the skies had fallen into them. I breathed it all in, and coughed a lot.

Chipmunks and Quail were everywhere. Earlier Orbit had a baby Quail run into her leg. Slack saw a big chipmunk eat a smaller one. My interactions with chipmunks was limited to long stare downs. Lunch was served promptly at mile 16 next to a warm Lake filled with newts. Newts are a cross between salamanders and tadpoles. They’re brown on the top and orange on the bottom and can reach seven inches in length. Endearingly, they bark when caught. Swimming in a lake full of them is superior to the more mundane swimming with dolphins, manta rays, or sharks, etc., foisted on tourists everywhere. I did so with delight.

Directional lake

Directional lake


Town fever hurried the five miles and soon I was looking, downing Cheezits at Kirby’s love van with Seminole, Emily and Orbit. The first van by obligingly stopped and we were on our way to Etna. Our ride givers were hippies fleeing a commune filled with sickness and headed for a rainbow gathering at the Buddha Hole by Mt. Shasta. That sentence was probably a first for the English language. Dropped off on main street where humans were apparently banned on late Sunday afternoons. We beelined through the movie set to the soon closing brewery. The first order of any town visit being liquids and solids. For the record I inhaled through three root beers, one stout, one ham sandwich, one hamburger and one towering root beer float.
A Viking on the right who has breached the city wall and has pillaged the city market

A Viking on the right who has breached the city wall and has pillaged the city market


Next a roof, but not before Slack appeared, looking semirecovered. We made our way toward the Etna motel. On the way I passed Viking sitting in front of the market vacuuming ice cream. Since Viking carries enough food for the apocalypse, he is never seen in towns. I captured the unusual event on film to confirm that even Vikings are weak for luxury at times. He growled that he would return to the trail within the hour or after four beers whichever came first.

The Etna motel was very fine and appeared empty. The anomaly was we just got the last room. The explanation—a motel full of hikers has an empty parking lot. There we cleaned up and relaxed to a TV reality show called “Naked and Afraid.” The premise being two naked and afraid people are dumped off the bush somewhere to survive for 21 days. Having once been on a reality TV show called skinny-dip I knew that 80% of what happened on such shows is not. So I gave up quickly and went to work on the journal.

Soon Veggie, track meat and Ole turned up and the night quickly veered toward the only business open on Sunday evenings in Etna. With only three locals in residence comparing work place notes, the bar was ours. The following entertainment to choose from darts, jukebox, pool table, bartender storytelling and Horshoe pits out back. We took advantage of all.

Ole, who once made a living airbrushing nipples out of fishnet bras for a lingerie company to protect the sanctity of teenage boys’ squinting eyes, filled me in on recent history over beers. The boys were waylaid in Etna because they were waiting for antibiotics to fight a most unusual affliction. Both Track Meet and Ole, not a couple, were struck with swollen left testicles. Admirably, no jokes were made about this sensitive issue. I wish them a return to balance in their lives.

Our bar

Our bar


A good night passed well, with a soundtrack from the 60’s and 70’s, ending in the early morning where it must, out back in the Horseshoe Pits. There, the bartender told stories of his import export days, back in the Go-Go 80’s, delivering a certain South American product for certain rock stars. A local guy serenaded on his guitar about love and loss. And Orbit and I took on Veggie and Ole in shoes. All were hopeless at the game and the target score was constantly lowered. But to see Ole throw a shoe was spectacular. The process. At 6’7″ he would stand ramrod straight, and christen the throw with a name. For example, “The Hurricane,” then he would explode in spasmodic motion winging the horseshoe in a SideArm, reverse discus maneuver that endangered all spectators but rarely the target. It was visual beauty. Orbit, always the fierce competitor, finally and mercifully ended the night with a ringer. To bed I went unrefreshed, unrested and happy.

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 86 – Kermit serves lunch and we dream of rattlesnakes

July 27, 2013
30 miles
Mile 1585

Awoke a survivor. Orbit passed by. The storm had pinned her about a mile back. From her perch much higher on the mountain she had seen a triple rainbow. She also witnessed the clouds try to funnel up into a tornado. Today I will keep an eye out for earthquakes and volcanic eruptions.

Let the sun do its drying work for a while. When I got bored of watching steam rise, I hit the road. The path was mostly level, my knee pleased and the pace strong. I zipped along. We had entered the Cascade Range and the PCT didn’t like it. For many miles the sun rose on the left which meant I was headed back to Mexico and the PCT was in retreat. I thought of Obit and her hostility toward illogical trail directions. She loves and believes in maps. She thinks unrealistically that trailmakers should pay attention to them when designing trails. For me I generally ignore cartography, but today was outrageous.

The Kermit Mobile

The Kermit Mobile


The path dropped to a road crossing. There Kermit and June Bug had set up trail magic shop outside their lime green VW bus. I stopped in for a feed and a chat. Their daughter Weebee is hiking the trail this year and they wanted to help out. We talked of their years of missionary work in South America. Just recently they had returned from Guatemala where they had built efficient cooking stoves in remote villages. Good people fighting the good fight on many fronts. They glowed with pride when talking about Weebee and her life in a cabin she had built in Alaska. June Bug wrapped it up with an amazing statement “We’ve learned so much from our daughter.” That I’ve never heard from a parent. Good on them.

Recharged, I charged up the hill. Had lunch with Fun Size and conversed about his life in Portland. How he had ceased drinking and smoking on the same day. Quite a feat. Off again, following a herd of cows who all appeared to have dysentery from the amount of deposits on the trail. Spent the afternoon vista hopping, Which goes like this. Look out at a vista, follow a big inverted U along the mountain curve and come to another vista at the next point. Repeat process. Mountain horseshoes basically. Good fun.

Picture framed

Picture framed


As I pushed uphill a long chain of very young backpackers made their way down. Politely, and according to trail etiquette, they stepped aside for the uphill hiker. They were part of a church group and pumped up by their backcountry experience. Their enthusiasm was energizing and I finished the day strong. Caught up with Orbit at a spring around mile 29. We found a camp at mile 30 and settled in. Slack soon showed up with video of a six-foot rattlesnake he had just run into. All went to sleep with thoughts of unwanted night company.

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 85 – Owiiiieee! And then I fight with the rocks.

July 26, 2013
30 miles
Mile 1555

Hitching out of Mount Shasta

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

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 !

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?

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

The hail starts

Hail carpet

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

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

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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

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

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

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

Diversity Twins


Time to look for a home

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