Tag Archives: Steve Halteman

A Thank You at the Halfway Point!

At the halfway point I would like to pause and thank all those who have taken the time out of their day to read along. Often the writing is rushed and perhaps of limited interest so I appreciate your tolerance. Especially I would like to thank and express my gratitude to those of you who have donated to Escuela Verde so far. 100% of your contributions go to the operation of the school and any donation, however small, helps.

Normally, on a hike or trip I would not keep a journal. And to be honest the time investment required by this blog has been a pain and something at times I’d rather not do. But the cause is greater than myself, so I put my pen to it and hike a few less miles. Escuela Verde is really doing good work in this world. Please support this work if you can. My appreciation to you. Now let’s get to the second act.

Steve Halteman a.k.a. Blast

Doing the Victory Stand in appreciation of all those who have donated to the children of Escuela Verde!

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 74 – Mount Lassen and beautiful meadows

July 15, 2013
24 miles
Mile 1320

Deer jumping over Veggie began the awakening process. First out of camp is a bonus because the animals have yet to be scared off their nighttime occupation of the PCT. Thus I sent many a startled deer crashing into the undergrowth. Kept moving north, every footfall had the heel landing lower than the toe. A reflection of the climb.

Halfway caught up and we spoke of his life in Maine. How he was trapped and free at the same time. The roller coaster hike up was anti-climactic as there was no corresponding freefall. Just a flattening out. We continued the far-ranging conversation to mask our disappointment. Lunch, 14 miles, and an amazing spring coincided and we laid down in the dirt to savor all. A gun range provided background music.

Conglomerate boulder

The path after lunch, though beautiful, failed to inspire. Every once in a while I’m just unenthusiastic about hiking. Today was that day. But in the end the miles must still happen, regardless of a mental state. I popped in the headphones and started marching under orders. Keeping cadence to Taylor Swift singing about this mall or that mall, (Thank you Madison.) a grind returned to a hike as the miles twisted through volcanic chaos. Enthusiasm crept back in. Tired, waterless and grinning I stutter stepped into camp. Plopped down and then plopped back up for another hike down to the spring. A nomads life.

Meadow vista

Polished off the last of my food reserves at dinner. A lurking panic. No hiker has affection for a food-less existence. To hike without food in the vernacular is known as a VisionQuest. Mine would be a short one. Only 14 miles to Chester and a supermarket.

Mt. Lassen sandwich

Lassen getting closer

And closer still

Looked up for the weather forecast. Stars only spoke of a lovely morning. Cowboy camping it was. As my head hit the spare clothes bag I thought not of town food, but of a trail marker some 9 miles ahead. A marker that would exclaim halfway there, halfway from.

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 73 – Happy Birthday, Mom on your 75th!

Day 73 July 14 24 miles mile 1297

A rough night. A clash between garlic pizza, a blu cheese burger, dark beer, Cliff Bars and a pint of cookie dough ice cream for supremacy in my stomach was violent. As a spectator I was kept up waiting for the results of the conflict. Finally pulled the plug on the three-hour battle by throwing up. Peace and sleep returned simultaneously.

Broke camp and had the hike to myself. Came upon a large group of Halloween butterflies (orange and black, my name) having a conference on a pile of dung. My approach caused a butterfly tornado which I passed through happily. Checked my senses after several hours by guessing the time and distance according to Half Mile’s GPS. I was off by eight minutes and half a mile. I’ll take it. Followed an ideal stream with its natural downcurrent slope. The perfect hiking angle. Then high to a ridge which revealed giant canyon country and Mount Lassen far to the horizon.

New kind of flower with Pom-Poms

River, rail and road – Belden as transport

The trail calls

Trail with passing lane

A river sliced the vein of the PCT deep. The trail subject to its geographical abuse. Onward and downward. And down. And down. For 4,800 feet the knee cartilage flew like shrapnel. Stumbled into the mini town of Belden at the bottom on legs not interested in further effort. There, I awaited the others as well as the return of my leg function. When recovered I explored the former stagecoach stop. What a great place, though it has a poor reputation due to the weekly raves held there. I sat down at a picnic table and a trail angel handed me some sodas. Scored a couple of mystery dinners out of the hiker box that did not appear to be contraceptive in nature. Resupplied in the little store. And when the others arrived, sat down to chocolate milk and giant burgers.

Hiker trash take over rave stage

Red Beard makes a splash, Belden swimming hole

The day kept improving and we kept staying. Belding charmed. Went for a swim at the swimming hole. Relaxed on the beach. Awaited the grand arrival for whom we did not know, but there was an excitement in the air. Trumpets blared and red beard walked in. Five consecutive 30 mile days and one 38 mile day to rejoin Orbit and Sons. A celebration ensued. The afternoon passed playing mutual catch up and hearing of his friend. Beer appeared and we made a move inside to pool and ping-pong. The day was in danger of becoming a bar night. Saner opinions prevailed and we returned to the recapture of altitude.

Before departure I downed two Mountain Dew’s in the style of mile 92 of my last 100 mile race. Not being a coffee drinker, any caffeine in my system has the desired effect. I racewalked the 7 miles up the mountain until bumping into Viking and home. The hotel that night held Veggie, Red Beard, Slack, Halfway, Track Meet, Orbit, Ole, myself and Michael. Michael is a section hiker, meaning over the years when time presents he’ll hike sections of the PCT. Eventually he’ll knock off the trail in that way and be a through hiker. With Michael I discussed Nietzsche and his thoughts. Found out I didn’t know as much about the philosopher as I thought I did.

Dinner was amazing. Mystery solved. It was a pasta bean combo. Couscous paled. My thanks to the depositor. Then the stories had all been told. The group crossword puzzle solved. And my sleeping pad beckoned for company.

Happy birthday, Mom on your 75th. I love you.

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 72 –

July 13, 2013
24 miles
Mile 1273

The sun was late to sink down to the bottom of our valley, so the process was late in starting. Left the river cut and began the inevitable climb. With 4,000 feet to reclaim the trend was obvious. Switchback after switchback brought me to ever thinner air. Finally surfaced on a crest after two hours of effort. Miles of firs and Pines spread out in every direction. Timber or scenery depending on your perspective.

Mount Lassen’s first appearance

Once up, I stayed up. The path meandering along the ridge until it intersected with a paved road. There a choice. Stay on the PCT and eat out of Ziploc bags or follow the road, an alternative loop, and swing by a restaurant with half pound burgers and 18 kinds of beer on tap. Hmmm? Asphalt walking after forest paths is unpleasant, if for no other reason then it is hard on the joints, but the hitching was unsuccessful, so we walked the miles.

Twin still hanging around

Before we could make our restaurant, the proprietor of a newly built establishment leaned from his porch and shouted “free beer for through hikers.” Is that possible to ignore? The food was excellent as was the Monster Truck show on the tube. Though grave diggers defeat in the final hard to digest. The band of 14-year-olds abusing rock ‘n roll did not fall into the excellent category. Back on the road we attempted to bypass the Lakeshore Resort and it’s 18 flavors but the lure was overwhelming.

Hungry tree eating sign

Inside, inevitably, sat Track Meet, Veggie, Ole and Halfway, who as a quartet were doing damage to the tap hinges. We sat down to help because that is what friends are for. Throughout the afternoon a return to the trail was discussed several times but never seriously pursued. Pizzas were eaten, phones charged, but mostly t was conversation and beer. Supportive locals bought a number of rounds. Many stopped by to satisfy their curiosity about the motivation to walk 2,600 miles. Many wanted to discuss “wild” a popular book about a woman who walked the PCT. The book is not so popular on the trail itself. The afternoon turned late, the trail talk more serious.

We left the bar. And made it to the porch, where we started in on ice cream. More locals hung out. We promoted the PCT and it’s virtues including unlimited ice cream consumption. A bald eagle circled overhead. Finally two women with a vehicle called our bluffs and hauled us in shifts to the trailhead. There Veggie pulled out a six-pack, but it was only delaying the inevitable. At 8 PM the start bell sounded. We were off with talk of a summit some 5 miles away. Whatever state a through hiker might find himself in, they are capable of a couple of things, if you put them on the PCT. They will turn North, they will hike, they will find a flat spot near water and they will get their eight hours of slumber. Two miles later we were down. A sweet camp spot tripped us up. And down hard we went. Aggressive snoring frightened away the mosquitoes and all was dark for the others. But I read, until the book hit me in the face. The end before the end.

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 71 – Go ahead, drink the water

July 12, 2013
31 miles
Mile 1250

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

Typical blowdown

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

Typical spring – no need to treat this

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

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

Feather River

Bridge at Feather River

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

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

If you’d like to help out and donate, please click here!

Day 70 – Ants at 2 a.m. & Ambush Vistas

Day 70
July 11, 2013
21 miles today
Mile 1219

An ant crawling up my spine brought me to consciousness. Only it was 2 AM. The room being oven-like I had slept on the attached deck. I clicked on my headlamp. The deck was moving with a sea of large black ants on the night shift. I selected optimism over moving and went back to sleep. At dawn they were gone

Settled up my bill, mailed my bounce box out, tackled an omelette and hitched a ride to the trailhead with a trail angel named Chipmunk at around 11. He was so enthusiastic about helping out hikers that he had a big PCT taxi sign in the front window of his minivan. The remnants of last nights party were spread from Sierra City to the mountains around. Some hikers lay in the backyard unable to move. Some were MIA. Others unable to suppress alcohol enthusiasm, had started hiking at 1:30 AM. Most of them I saw back in town in full retreat and disarray mumbling about breakfast. The remainder I passed in various states of dignified repose along the switchbacks leading up from the town. A fine fiesta.

Sierra City from Ridgeline

It was a long climb out of Sierra city. As I gained altitude I sucked on a blueberry lollipop thoughtfully provided by orbit. I also mulled over recent updates which I’ll pass on. Red beard is only 40 miles behind. Doc is in Indiana knocking on his girlfriend’s door. After so many years, Preston finally saw a Sierra Fox in the wild. It was a female. UB went back to San Francisco to rest. There he was meteored by a new idea. Go to Canada and hike the Trail north to south in 90 days. I plan to tackle him when I see him so the others can get a straitjacket on him. Probably the wolf Red saw was actually a big coyote. Orbit was awarded eight ball sinker of the month by the Sierra City Billiards Association. The Powerhouse Fire, in the end, destroyed over 30 houses and the PCT in that area has yet to reopen. There is still a piano for free in Sierra city. And that my friends, is the news of the day.

The path climbed high to a Ridgeline and stayed there. Lunch was at a spring with the best tasting chilled water of my life to date. I drank like a resident of the Sahara. Then a long dry spell with a number of ambush vistas. You pop out of a thick forest and Bam! Wow! The surrounding world is just for you. Drink it in and walk on.

A steady downhill brought me to A Tree and it’s spring. Apparently some years ago there was a tree nearby full of bees. Logically B Tree needed an A Tree for company. Caught up with SLaCK, Orbit and Halfway for our night’s accommodation at the A Tree Lodge. Went to bed with wicked cramps from sitting on a cold rock. Where’s Doc when you need him? Probably still knocking.

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 69 – Mark Twain might have liked the Bohemian Rhapsody

Day 69
July 10, 2013
4 miles
Mile 1197

Rose without incident and directed myself toward Sierra City. Followed the course of the river and picked up momentum with it as the geography tilted. Shortly, a side trail presented itself that would allow a direct hike into town minus a hitch. I veered. Dropped through a campground and found myself next to you yet another river. Came upon a swimming hole that Mark Twain would have had Tom Sawyer dive into. Then through a neighborhood of cabins with front yards decorated with ore carts and giant sawblades. After a steady diet of pines, such variety was an eye treat.

Tom’s swimming hole

Turned onto Main Street of Sierra city population 225. Too small for AT&T to respect, but I loved the place. First thing I saw was a piano free to one who would haul it. How would Twain have worked that in? Reined in when it when I came to the Red Moose Inn which is hiker central. Following my third breakfast, I picked up my bounce box at the post office and settled to details. Necessary but tedious beyond repeating.

Sierry City

My office was half the bed in Tortuga’s room. Ice to my knee. I plugged away on my I whatever. But my true position was gatekeeper to the shower. The inn has but two rooms. The majority of hikers camp for free in the backyard. Their use of the restaurant and bar provides economic input to the trail angel owners. The owners in turn knock the sales tax off the room if the occupants allow hikers to use the shower, there being no others. Thus the curious sensation of a stream of hikers passing by the foot of my office to bathe. All looking to me to keep order and state rules. This I did so amongst the rising humidity.

Free ivory

Lunch was a pizza in front of the general store which followed a fruitless search for couscous. Hikers milled about. Say what you will about hiker trash, but for a couple of summer months they drop a serious amount of money in the small towns along the trail. Then a return to my office as the cello concert commenced. The soul calmed as the notes floated about the packed house.

Veggie had earlier passed on some unwanted and unloved couscous to me so I owed him a beer. He was bellied up to a bar down the street, so Slack, Orbit, Tortuga and I walked down main street, once laden with stagecoaches, now devoid of cars. The bar was full of hikers and the party became their own. Orbit and I took over the pool table. I am an average pool player at best, but tonight was my night. We played doubles against a couple of confident locals who were without that confidence following several losses. Then I took on all comers finally losing after eight straight wins when I sank my own eightball. The margaritas having taken their toll, I sat back and bathed in my luck.

Tortuga, Mud, Veggie, Track Meet & Ole at the height of the chorus of Bohemian Rhapsody, their loving tribute to Freddie Mercury

But the real show was on the dance floor, where hikers pounded the floorboards mercifullessly to the jukeboxes pre-1990 tunes. As the drinks flowed the splinters flew. Most of the hikers were not born when this music was being made but their embrace of it was passionate. Journey, Blue Oyster Cult, Patsy Cline —they danced to it all. The grand finale, which coincided with last call, was a group reenactment of Bohemian Rhapsody which rendered the pool table molested. You had to have been there. As Track Meet said when he danced by at the height of Freddie Mercury’s efforts sometimes along this trail we’re just killing it.” I replied “pure homicide” in complete agreement. Lights out.

No mystery as to distances

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 68 – Go jump in the lake

Day 68
July 9, 2013
24 miles
Mile 1193

Curiously, hikers passed by throughout the night. In their bubble, they marched on encased in halos of light. Night hiking is a taste. It appeals to some, not to others. To the former, the advantages are more animals, quiet, mystery and fewer bugs. To me it is like walking in a forever tunnel longing for the light. Though once in Costa Rica, on a long, beach night hike, each step I took sent phosphorescence shooting in every direction from my footprint. That was something else.

Stopped to smell the roses

The trail ranged high and low today. Covering an eclectic variety of terrain, exposed volcanic knobs, thick forests, Lake country, steep canyons, collapsing talus slopes and flat meadows. Passed through it all collecting it by eye. Water was scarce so I drank deep when the opportunity presented. Early in the trip I was religious about filtering. My method is Aqua Mira drops. You mix up a concoction. Allow it to sit for five minutes, then dump it in the water you have an interest in. Wait another 15 minutes. Then quench. An exercise in delayed gratification. Now laziness has a say in the matter and 80% of the time I just drink directly from the stream. No ill effects yet.

A lake on the horizon

Had lunch at Mule Deer Creek. The waterworks along the PCT rarely have uplifting or enticing names, no Tequila Drip Springs or Honeydew Vine Water Creek. More often they tend to run along the lines of Dirty Diapers Springs, Poison Meadow Springs, Sulphur Springs, Death Canyon Creek and the Ominous Guzzler.

Yet another lake out of reach

After lunch, passing by a large lake, we came to a note. Through hikers stop by Site Four in the campground for a cold one. Is it possible to pass that up? That is how we met Don and his stash of Gatorade, cookies and apples. Don was mulling a shot at the PCT next year and we traded info for calories. And while at the lake? A formal adulation.

Finally, a lake I could jump into

The rest of the day was spent trying to catch Tortuga and stretching out the capacity of my knee. Both successful in the end. Plan is to share a hotel room in Sierra City with Tortuga. Sierra City being only 4 miles away. There I will pick up my bounce box, catch another cello concert, ice my knee, and give Red a chance to make up ground. Pizza and beer perhaps will enter the scenario at some point.

Camped in and around the crumbling foundations of an abandoned cabin set in a canyon river valley. As sleep came I thought of the life and dreams that had been led here but were no more. Ozymandias was right. My last sight, the stars that hung from the thick pine headdresses.

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 67 – Lost in the pass

Day 67
July 8
14 miles
mile 1169

Light made its way through windows and I awoke without being subject to divebombing. Red Bull to roofing and Lemonade to yoga. A most sincere thank you to the both of them for their unlimited hospitality. Let’s face it, they open their doors to a group of unwashed unknowns based solely on Otter’s recommendation. As Redbull said, “The trail has given us so much, we want to give back whenever we can.” True trail angels. And ones I hope to emulate.

Novel wall in lemonade shop

Breakfast at the well-named Squeeze In. Fueled by omelettes, we said our goodbyes to doc at the Greyhound depot. Then Otter returned us to the trailhead in a truck borrowed from Redbull. A debt of gratitude to Otter for his hospitality. Otter, in his typical humbleness, forgot to mention that he is a Triple Crowner a couple of times over.(AT, PCT and CDT) Said our farewells and were off, but me not so fast. My right knee was miserable. A limp developed. A formal contract, no more races.

Truckee Lake from Donner pass

I got lost in my head to distract the pain. Soon that translated into lost on the trail. As I marched towards Summit Lake the PCT went toward Castle Pass. I woke up at a trail juncture where I ran into Tortuga. She faced the same dilemma. What the hell happened to the PCT? To solve the puzzle she backtracked. I compounded my problem by choosing a trail that my gut told me would meet up with the PCT. Eventually, a half-mile bushwhack confirmed the valuelessness of my gut on this one. Coming out of the bush I arrived at yet another juncture at the same time Tortuga appeared. Together we figured out where the PCT wanted to go and followed it there.

Wild railroad tunnel from Donner Pass

Caught up to Orbit and Slack in front of the Peter Grubb hut. A now closed hut built in honor of a 19 year old rock climber. He had died while on a bicycling trip to Europe in 1939 as the clouds of war gathered. I limped on. The day was short due to the logistics of our arrival in Sierra City as well as our late start. I was happy to end early. The Mosquitoes had the same emotion about my arrival.

Figured out a way to get a gym workout out of the forest and then got down to the serious business of Ramen preparation. Viking appeared. Born in 1980 in Leipzeig then of the GDR. He was nine when the wall came tumbling down. His memories of those times made even my tired Ramen fascinating. He gave me some horse cream for my knee and I went to bed dreaming of a return to full speed.

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 66 – I think I’m going to throw up

Day 66
July 7
27 miles
mile 1155

Did Red walk through the night? A first thought. Up early to see the sunrise from inside my bag. Stayed in my office to catch up on writing. Then born to the world or at least oatmeal. Packed up and was off like a herd of turtles as the old family expression goes.

Lights on in bedroom

Writing blog

Through the early part of the day the trail rose and fell according to the whims of geography. Lake Tahoe would occasionally make guest appearances on the right. As I was hiking solo, my gaze was often off path, drawn to this or that. Unfortunately the PCT is a jealous mistress who requires constant attention. Ignore her obstacles at your peril. Multiple times that day I was nearly brought to my knees by a root or curved rock. After each near takedown I would scream the same unutterable. And then refocus on the path in front of me, swearing attention. Within minutes the eyes to wander. Repeat process.

Lake Tahoe as horizon

With time the trail returned to a high ridge. The Tahoe rim Trail veered toward her namesake but the PCT stayed high above the tree line. The route went knife edge. My left hand presented a massive forested valley. My right the deep waters of Lake Tahoe. My stretched shadow raised its hand in greeting. I love these times. Passed a ski resort and red signs that spoke of avalanche dangers. Not today methinks. The high times were ended by a series of descending switchbacks as the trail looped around the back of Squall Valley. There a year or so ago, my daughter learned to ski and snowboard. Happy memories flooded.

Squaw Valley Ski Resort nude

A wrong turn had me summit Granite chief mountain. A pretty good return on my error. Back on the trail I caught up with Doc and had a good final chat. Doc plans to get off the trail in the upcoming town of Truckee to pursue an education, girlfriend and future in Ohio. We spoke of the angles and the need for Uncertainty in life. We climbed up to Tinker Knob, the difficulty of which encouraged much thought before word utterances. A lack of oxygen forces one to choose their words carefully. Caught up with Orbit and Slack on top of Tinker Knob and watched the spread of a new wildfire on the next mountain ridge that shaded the sky the full spectrum of gray.

To the left

To the right

Back to it, and Orbit’s words came to me, “When Red gets back, we need to refocus and put the hammer down.” Another knife ridge and I pulled up behind her, and inquired about this hammer. The race was on. Over the next 5 miles we alternated between racewalking and running. The contest ended with the words “I think I’m going to throw up.” Good times.

Came upon Roller Pass, which is a cross between a cliff and a hill. Here, a team of oxen would pull each pioneer wagon, one by one, up the steep slope. At the top was the pioneers reward, a first view of California. The Donner party missed this turn and ended up trapped in early snow, late cannibalism, and a place in the books of history.

Twins

Traveling companion since Mexico

A rocky, pounding descent brought us down to Donner Pass where warm Pabst Blue Ribbon quenched the thirst generated by a dry trail. Otter was already in Truckee and had secured us lodging for the night. As we wanted to give Doc a proper sendoff, a divergence off the trail to civilization was in order. To Truckee then. And that is how we met Lemonade and Red Bull, fellow through hikers. Lemonade picked us up at the trailhead and drove us to Safeway where we picked up party supplies. Then to their very hip apartment where a cleaned and polished otter awaited.

A splendid evening ensued. Red Bull and Lemonade had laid out an incredible spread based on their thorough knowledge of a through hikers bottomless appetite. The conversation was first rate as one would expect from a couple with such an extensive library. We learned some of their life in Truckee and how it came to be, of Lemonades quick visit to the States from her native Sweden that became a life there after meeting Red Bull. And of their CDT hike together and still together.

To dessert in honor of Doc’s departure. A gift to us from his recently visited parents. Angel food cake, whipped cream and strawberries with Ben and Jerry’s chasers. A toast to the arrival of Docs future.

Finally the weight of the day arrived and all available floor space was given over to eyes shut.

Traveling companion since Mexico

Stories from Steve

Steven "Blast" Halteman – Author, Adventurer

Tag Archives: Steve Halteman

A Thank You at the Halfway Point!

Day 74 – Mount Lassen and beautiful meadows

Day 73 – Happy Birthday, Mom on your 75th!

Day 72 –

Day 71 – Go ahead, drink the water

Day 70 – Ants at 2 a.m. & Ambush Vistas

Day 69 – Mark Twain might have liked the Bohemian Rhapsody

Day 68 – Go jump in the lake

Day 67 – Lost in the pass

Day 66 – I think I’m going to throw up