June 4, 2013
25 miles today
Mile 608

Woke up early, alone to writing. Laying in a meadow of view to the sky was open. Suddenly a B-2 Stealth Bomber made a pass through the dawns light. Felt like an exposed Taliban.

The rest of the morning was the mundane pack up, food up, water up and throwing an ever-increasing diameter of pebbles at Doc’s head in order to assist him in exiting sleep, his favorite state of consciousness.

Met a hiker on their first day hiking the PCT. They planned to go to Canada, but were carrying 40 pounds of food and water in addition to their gear. Tried to suggest a lightening of the load without being obnoxious. Probably failed.

As the next spring was 17 miles on, I loaded up with 3.5 liters of water. The sun was already hot to the touch. Took off in good spirits, though my knee remained in a foul humor.

Soon came to fresh burn. The fire had been a large one and probably within the last two years. The new plant growth, what little there was of it, being less than 4″ high. Tried to recreate the drama in my head. The fire started in some trees and was blown north. I surmised this because the fire line cut starkly along a distinct line through the forest. A road to a wind farm kept the flames form moving east. As the path passed west of the wildfire, it was obvious the firefighters had used the PCT as their skirmish line, their victory apparent. But the fire, with wind as its ally, carried the day with its remaining directional outlet. For the next hour I trudged north through a cooked wasteland. A hastily dug fire break with heavy machinery being the dam that finally stopped the advance.

Passed a heat prostrated hiker lying in the shade waiting for the dark. Curious how the sun affects different hikers in such a variety of ways. Pushed on to the spring. Arrived with my last sip of water a distant memory. That first gulp of icy spring water defied adjectives. A long siesta followed by the last eight miles of perfect, gentle, down sloping pine beds. Our camp was next to yet another water fountain of the earth, with a picnic table to boot. Shared our camp with Papa Bear and his son, Chris. The conversation was good and centered around a country to the north that was still a ways off.

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

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June 3 , 2013
25 miles today
Mile 583

One last gorge and then back to the trailhead. Said our farewells to Mr. O’D and began to climb out of the heat. Two mule deer were not impressed with our intrusion. As always, my hiking was low energy after a zero. Plodding along past endless windmills did nothing to lift my spirits. Still, progress was made. The goal was Highway 58 where a water cache was placed. The distance between the start and 58 being 8 miles, on my one-month trail anniversary.

From the PCT handbook, “The shortest route between two points is a switchback.” The engineers who laid out the trail were zealous in their observation of this truism. Back to the Handbook, “A longer switchback is superior to a shorter switchback,” and finally this gem; “The longest switchback of all will win the engineer accolades.” I contemplated these unique design philosophies as I attempted to reach Hwy 58 via a series of switchbacks.

“Gentlemen,” I yelled back through the up swell of history, “your goal is that highway right there, let us go directly to it.” Their response: “A straight line would encourage you to focus on your objective and arrive at it shortly, which is nonsensical. Much better 
to move parallel to your objective repeatedly gaining some eight feet of descent at each turn, after a football field length traverse,” your objective never a distraction. Just mindlessly moving back and forth across the face of a mountain suppressing the maddening urge to hop from switchback to the next straight down the mountain. The PCT is 2,660 miles long. A crow flying from the start to the finish of the PCT would cover 1,165 miles. That’s around 1,500 miles of switchback. Engineers are marvels, perhaps not familiar with the actual location of Canada.

Mr. O’D drove up the 58 to meet us at the water cache. Lying underneath his truck I pondered the charisma of shade. Soon it was time to begin the big climb up from the pass and back into the mountains. But first I had to walk along the freeway for a mile through the remnants of a disposable culture. According to Mr. O’D, who used to collect cans, the five most common cans tossed from cars are in order of commonality. 1) Budweiser, 2) Coke, 3) Coors, 4) Pepsi, and 5) Miller. Now you know.

Arrived in camp, spent from carrying a pack loaded with 6 days of food and 17 hours of water. To take that pack off at the end of the day held commonality with an orgasm. Perhaps even superiority.

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

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June 1, 2013
8 miles today
Mile 558

The beginnings of the sun gave a shout. Ate the last of my food and downed some water obtained from the last water cache. A critical cache set up on a very dry section of train, it is stocked by the kind Messrs David and Larry of Tehachapi. Good on them.

On the move by 6:15 a.m. we made out way downward toward the desert and Mojave, cutting through high plateau forests scarred by fire and dirt bikes. Our old friend the poodle bush reappeared and gave an enticing bark. Background scenery was provided by the mushroom cloud of the now-named Powerhouse Fire. Its appetite still unsatisfied at 3600 acres. Nine hundred firefighters made it their business to murder Mr. Powerhouse.

The path sucked through an endless number of wind turbines. Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh as they beat the air, so far responsible for the deaths of 200 plus eagles, as they scan the ground and not the air when they fly. Which one, my fellow environmentalists, clean energy or eagles? I want to look at my cake. I want to devour my cake.

After eight miles, we arrived low. A confession. I went to Junior High and High School in the unloved burg of Mojave. It is said that Mojave High doesn’t bother to have reunions because the escapees would never return and the trapped don’t like ot talk aoub ti. The path of life is twisted through and I find myself looking forward to the homecoming. My ex-teacher and current friend, Jim O’Donnell is waiting at the trailhead, as is au-natural hiker. This good soul is still dishing out root beer floats in his sexy mini.

Mojave is still there, even more reluctant to look in the mirror. A freeway bypass seems to have shrunk the town, but like a brawler with a sub 500 record it swings on. We stop for donuts in a shop that was the Mojave library. Across the street is one of my father’s churches. As I listen to Mr. O’Donnell’s stories, through the din caused by passing trains, I am content.

Another hiker arrives at the donut shop and announces that although their website say otherwise, the Mojave post office is closed Saturday. My bounce box is there which makes this development unfortunate. It is, however, small town America, one of which I live in during the seventies. Return to said post office. Bang on door until head appears. Find right combination of words for that head to compassionately receive my needs, wants and desires. Wait patiently for breach in parameter security. Door opens. Receive said bounce box. Thank profusely. Mojave is a great town.

A text arrives. Orbit and Doc have hitched to Hiker Town and burning out a thirty-plus mile day in order to catch up. Will reunion at the trailhead sometime late evening. All goes according to plan and by 10:00 Orbit and Sons is back in action.

The conversation was good as we sat in front of Mr https://mannapotheke.de/cialis-generika/. O’Donnell’s trailer and caught up under a smoke-hazed moon. Soon the long day made its demands on us all and we laid down where we conversed. Alone to my thoughts, I tried to figure out why I loved the thrill of natural disasters so much, because I so hated their effect. But I didn’t get far as sleep held the stronger hand. Mr. Powerhouse, however, decided to skip sleep and continue to feed.

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!

May 30, 2013
25 miles today
527 Miles total

Awoke to a perfect colon, knock on wood. Genetically, I got dealt one hell of a hand in that category. Slack was able to hike, so we began the descent to the desert, in effect on the run from something we didn’t know was chasing us. Stopped to watch an age-old strut battle between two male swift lizards. Again and again they rammed each other followed by outrageous push-ups. A detached female eagerly awaited the outcome with a jaundiced eye. The event took place in an amphitheater ring of new oaks that had grown up around a central dead master oak stump. It was worthy of the Romans.

Our goal was Hiker Town. A house surrounded by buildings that appeared to be the set of a miniature Western. As we bore down in Hiker Town the Nodo Worm bore down on my stomach. The race was on. My gut began to swell and buckle. Suddenly an inspiration. I had Tums – a cure all. I began chewing them like a kid eating popcorn during a horror movie.

An epic battle ensued, which peaked about a mile before arrival. A subtle shift, and the tide turned. Apparently the Nodo Worm had never faced off with a pound of calcium. A complete route. The worm was able to make it a escape at Hiker Town and hopefully died a horrific death in some dark septic tank. Refreshed, I had a hamburger and a Papa Bear sized bowl of ice cream. Always celebrate your victories. Talked heresies with the very relaxed Reverend Dude as the wind built outside.

After Hiker Town, the PCT parallels the California Aqueduct. At times the water is visible, but the majority of the time it is concreted over to reduce evaporation. Thus, the curious sensation of walking on top of a river, across a desert while feeling very thirsty.

As I walked along the aqueduct, I noticed some smoke on the ridge of the mountains we had just left. Before long it became apparent that a wildfire was on the loose, fed by the vigorous exhales of the Mojave. By evening we were to learn that a section of the PCT was now closed, that the Andersons were threatened with evacuation, that the fire had spread to 1000 acres and that some hikers were missing.

The firm of Orbit and Sons had been cleaved in two.

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!

May 29, 2013
24 miles today
502 Miles total

You have to leave home sometime. But before I self cut the umbilical cord, I had one more round of pancakes and cherries. Joe gets up every morning at an ungodly hour and prepares an unlimited number of hot cakes for whatever number of hikers happens to be there. I suggested he mix the cherries with the pancake mix. He kindly and gently told me to get the fuck out of his kitchen but come back for more if still in need.

Doc had arrived the night before and I caught up with his adventures. He planned to take a zero. Little did he know his medical skills would be called into play, with not a pie to be found.

Red Beard, Orbit and I, as well as Waka Waka and Tree Killer, grabbed a ride with Terry to the trailhead. She embraced us all in a way that manages to encompass an entire family reunion in one hug.

The day started with a big climb. Orbit fell uncharacteristically back. By the crest she was out of sight. I doubled back to check on here, but she had already turned back, cut down by the now named Nodo Virus.

At the next water stop, Red Beard and I learned that Slack was lying by the side of the trail some eight miles ahead clearing his stomach. I walked on, with a cloud of doom shading my steps. Who but me could be next? I hoped that my stomas leprosy form the early part of the trip hardened my immunological resolve.

Slack managed to make some forward progress and we did not catch him until mile 501. Our pursuit took us through a beautiful section of the Angeles National Forest.

At the reunion Slack was full of illness stories, including fainting while pissing. His head was positioned at a weird angle so the impact must have been dramatic. We moved on together to a rainwater catch and bedded down.

I dreamed of a Nodo worm crawling into my ear to spread its venom.

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!

May 27, 2013
0 miles today
478 miles total

Like all long term endeavors, balanced days off are strategically wise. Or if you walk a lot, a day spent sitting on your ass feels good. But too many days off spirals one into a deficit of ambition. For me, my knee has spoken. This day is one of rest, which is easy physically, but a challenge mentally. The call of miles is a strong one.

All day the large group that had stayed for the Memorial Day weekend party has been moving out. I did not know most of these folks as they had started the trail before me. An annual kickoff meeting/party takes place at the end of April for the PCT. This year some 400 hikers had attended. Most then start their hike. Because my group has been moving at a fairly quick pace, we have begun to catch the tail end of the large kickoff group, a good chance to hear new stories.

One individual I met named Handstand works in one of three locations – the South Pole, Greenland, or Palmyra. Palmyra is a tiny atoll in the South Pacific owned by the Nature Conservancy. He works anywhere from 4-6 months a year maintaining facilities at one of the three far-flung locations. He spends the rest of the year seeing what interests him. This year is it completing the PCT. In October he will return to Antarctica. His parting comment was, “I can’t stop laughing whenever I think that someone is paying me to work in those places.”

The taco salad affair was more intimate and subdued as the dinner crowd was greatly reduced.

The weather forecast, which basically means looking up at the sky, hinted at rain. So I set up my tarp, using my new and improved tent pole for the first time. A 25 mph gust of wind snapped it in half at the seven-minute mark. Can’t blame the tooth for that one, as it is back in my mouth.

Spent the rest of the evening concocting a new pole from the remnants of old trekking poles. Some pieces of equipment simply refuse to behave in a civilized manner.

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!

May 25, 2013
10 miles today
454 miles

Awoke to a swelling KOA, compliments of Memorial Day weekend. While others waited for caffeine, I took off. The goal was the Saufleys, well-known Trail Angels who open their property to hikers every thru hiking season. Ran into a 78 year old runner out for his long weekend run. His comment, ”I’m finally starting to slow down.”

Passed through a hamster tube, under the zipping freeway cars above, and emerged into a gorgeous canyon.

Right away spotted a rosy boa snake on the path. The canyon formed part of Vasquez rocks, the hideout of the enterprising bandit, Senior Vasquez.

Arrived at the Saufleys, sporting a throbbing right knee. Never really had knee problems before, so this is a novelty. The Saufley’s is basically a hiker processing center run on an efficiency that has been honed by years of experience. When you walk through the gate, you feel like you are standing on the edge of an unfamiliar river. At first you hesitate because the current is fast. But eventually you jump in and are whisked away pleasantly. Cots are there, computers are here, put your laundry over there, it will be ready in three hours, bikes are in the rack, films, food, fire and so the river flows. Everything a hiker could need within a thirty-yard radius. Donations, never mentioned, oil the machine. Hikers hobble around in various states of disrepair. The atmosphere relaxed.

My issue was the sacred tooth, still in my pocket. It’s unlucky streak continued as my search for a dentist dead-ended with the realization that it was Memorial Day weekend. Personal oral surgery is not a phobia of mine, so I jumped on the shuttle to Northridge and went to a pharmacy. Found some tooth cement and returned to dental health. Next door was an all-you-can-eat sushi joint. No sane person can pass these up. Felling lucid, I stopped in and paid the $25 entry fee for 60 minutes of intake. By the end, I had gone through about $80 of sushi and the sushi chef was becoming progressively harder to find. I felt wise.

All hiker stopovers have a series of bins filled with unneeded food and gear, free for the needy. The obsessing with reducing backpack weight keeps these bins remarkably full. In one, Red Beard found me a knee brace and muscle relaxant cream. All I need now is Doc and one of his pies to return to full health.

With the tank still topped off from lunch, a margarita symbolized dinner. I went to bed contemplating tomorrow’s 24 challenge and all its implications.

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!