Mexico Here I Am

Puerto Escondido

2011-01-22T15:20:00.001-08:00

True to be said, I am no stranger to the beach. Seasoned early on with the Washington coast and wind and chill, appropriate attire included jeans, a hoodie and maybe even a stocking cap. But as time has passed, slowly and with the laziest of snowbirds I gradually migrated south, enjoying warmer and warmer shores.

This trip had been planned for a while. Every Christmas break the staff tries to do something with the kids that have nowhere to go. Most, visit relatives if not their parents, but there are a few who have no one but those at the home. This year there were only three, Pio, Zuriel, and Celina. Jill, Janelle and Ramona and myself made seven.

We headed south on the same road to Huatulco. The driving was a little more tame this time. We weren’t flexing our stomachs as we did with Habacuc about a month earlier. Jill drove and drove, deliberate and true and handle the bulk of the distance.

We were stoked to arrive at the hotel. It was amazing, overlooking the ocean. The rooms were small but we didn’t plan on spending much time there, though the boys will sit in front of any screen indefinitely unless they are pulled away. The hotel also had its own beach club down a short flight of stairs and trail. There was another pool down there, with refreshments, and only a step or two from the beach.

The boys swam and swam. The water was warm. Puerto Escondido is known for its big surf but it was small while we were there. Even so, I rented a longboard and caught a few. I tried to take Pio out but he wasn’t kean on being in the surf. I tried to encourage him to paddle out past the waves to rest, but he wasn’t cooperating, and I couldn’t tow him without his help. It was a fairly short lesson. Pio went in and went back out for a few. When I came in to find Zuri to see if he wanted a crack at it, I couldn’t find him. Eventually Pio came up to Janelle and I saying we needed to check Zuri out of the lifeguard’s hut. We couldn’t get a lot of info out of people but apparently Zuri had drifted out a little far on his boogie board.

Janelle talked to the lifeguard who said to be more careful and that if we wanted to buy him a coke or something that would be fine. They are “volunteers” and that’s their way of saying to give them money for saving our kid. Janelle gave Zuri 40 pesos and said to pay him for your life. When we asked Zuri what happened he said he was on his boogie board and not afraid, and I wonder how much saving he really needed.

That was probably the most excitement of the trip. The rest of the time we spent eating out, deciding whether to swim in the pool or the ocean, building sand castles, and a little shopping. I ate a ton of junk food with the boys. We did go out on a boat ride one morning. These guys hang out on the beach and wait for tourist to come by and you settle on a price and hop in the boat. They took us out and the highlight was when he jumped off the boat to catch a sea turtle that he roped and hoisted up into the boat.

We had a blast and it was over all too fast. We got back and had a day or two before everyone returned. When they did it was nice to have everyone back. The vast majority of the kids were thrilled to return. Some seemed to have had a pretty tough break, but after a few days it was business as usual.

Christmas Eve in the Zocalo

2010-12-27T21:19:00.000-08:00

Hey Everyone, I hope you had a great time over the holidays. Here's a little taste of what we did to celebrate.

A Night in Tlacolula

2010-12-22T10:47:00.000-08:00

I couldn't believe it. The church, which is still lacking in minor detail, was packed. A ton of people had shown up. The crowd had plenty of time to grow. The pageant was advertised to begin at six, but in true Mexican form it didn't. In fact, we weren't even at the church at six. I had been at the church all day laying more of the brick floor, but as the hour drew near last minute preparations were being carried out and we didn't leave to get cleaned up until after 5. Then, we had to eat of course. So we stopped for tacos on the way home.

When we did get home at about a quarter till, Denise asked if I could be ready in five minutes. I assured her that I could, and I did. I waited a while for the others, and as the clock struck six I began to worry. Everyone else had gone to the church while we were eating tacos. Aside from Habacuc and Denise and myself, we only had David and Pedro in our group. I checked to see that I hadn't been left somehow, and David told me to relax as he continued to get ready. Denis and Habacuc finally immerged from their house and had a new and uncharacteristic urgency about them.

I jumped into the truck, ready to go and they hit the horn for David. They hit it again, holding a little longer this time. Still David was nowhere to be found. Their frustration surprised me, as our tardiness leading up to this moment had been of no concern, now all of a sudden not one precious second could be spared. Also surprisingly, the decision was made to leave David, who had a significant role in the play and was set to be the entertainment afterwards. We pulled away, but only a few hundred yards or so to the visitor’s center, where we had to grab a couple odds and ends. Luckily David used to the extra time to run down the drive with Pedro and jump in the back of the truck. Finally we were on our way to the church.

We arrived only a half hour behind schedule. Everyone was changing into their costumes. One of the girls painted a beard on my face. Everyone had been pretty upset with me for a while, when I shaved and cut my hair. Apparently I hadn't been chosen for my role based on my Christ likeness, but rather my ragged appearance. I was also interested to observe that the entire stage had been set up opposite of how we had practiced. Stage left was on the right and I tucked that bit of knowledge away for later. The last of my costume was being finished and given to me. Unfortunately for me, this whole thing was going to happen after all.

I wasn't too nervous. I had a bit of time to kill, as I was playing the role of adult Jesus in the Christmas pageant, so I didn't appear for a while. I came to find out that Mexican pageants are quite thorough, taking the audience all the way from the birth through the Crucifixion. Fortunately we didn't also have devils and demons, as I've been told some of the school pageants have been known to squeeze into their programs. At any rate, I pondered my lines, which I didn't actually have to say. They had been recorded, as had all the lines and the performers were simply moving their mouths. Everyone but me had recorded their own lines. Luis' voice stood in for mine as my Spanish is still not up to par with theater standards apparently. I'm not sure why he was chosen, because he had a part of his own, and his voice is rather high and scratchy, which became a highlight for the staff to poke fun of later.

Finally, the lights were struck. The music was cued. We were ready to go, and only about an hour and half late. I think it went well for the most. My favorite part was when Chucho plays the angel that appears to the Sheppard’s. Then his multitude of heavenly hosts joins him, which consisted of the little cuna boys, Tavo, Julio, and Luis (not the same Luis who recorded my lines). It was a pretty good event, kind of blur for me, but I have been assured of a video that exists if I ever care to refresh my memory.

There was a ton of food and piñatas. The kids had a pretty good time, and I think their parents enjoyed it too. Many of the kids are set to leave with different relatives on Friday. The small group of us that stays behind is excited to be heading to the beach the day after Christmas. Just like home, there are those that are finishing last minute shopping, decorations and cooking. I have been able to take a couple days off from working at the church now that the deadline has pasted and Habacuc and Denise are taking some much needed time off. We are all very excited to celebrate together. Merry Christmas.

The Spirit of Christmas

2010-12-17T05:59:00.000-08:00

It’s been a whole month since my last post and, having been derelict of my writing for so long, some will remain aloof to the reader. I hope that it does not stray from memory when I find myself separated by both time and space from this place and these people. As so much has come and gone in the time we’ve been apart, I’ll try to fill in the pieces with some highlights.

His arrival was much anticipated. Proper research was exercised via facebook though we were still divided on who exactly would show up. Jeff assertively declared it would be the grizzled fly fisherman, while Janelle confidently predicted it would be whoever had dressed their golden retriever in a Canuck’s jersey for their profile pic. Both sides were so sure that a wager was established and we, without TV, local hangout spot, sports, or our normal leisure activities, had some entertainment for which to look forward.

The guy was driving his motorcycle down from Smythers BC (8 hrs north of Vancouver). Jeff and I were working at the church and when Habacuc arrived with Dan at the job, he brought Jeff’s fifty pesos from Janelle too. Apparently he had pulled in on his bike greeted by a less than enthusiastic Janelle who immediately new she had lost the wager.

He arrives just in time too. Being a big strong farm boy from BC’s interior, he was perfect for helping us install the final and biggest beam in the church. It was to stretch across under the now sagging roof, almost perpendicular to the other beams. Hoisted by measures of rope and awkwardly thrust overhead to hands reaching down, we shimmied one end onto a concrete overhang that would support that side. The other side was rigged with a pulley, yet that did not simplify things. Struggling and straining to move the massive beam, our hands grew limp with exhaustions from holding the line. After many failed attempts the side was finally in position to be jacked into place. We had a three-ton car jack that was fitted with a measure of a wood plank and then cranked up. As I imagine, the total weight of the roof must have drawn near to the max bulk of the jack, yet it slowly and steadily lifted the droopy lid straight and flush. It felt to be quite the accomplishment when the roof was finished. Yet the church would prove to be much more work still.

It was fun having Dan around. He gave rides to all the kids and taught Jeff and I how to drive the moto. It was a ton of fun though I nearly laid it down in some loose sand when the neighbor’s dogs ran out in front of me and chased me down the road. We got a lot done at the church in the days that he was here, and then he was off to Cancun to catch a flight to Haiti. Sounds like things are pretty rough there, and we all pray for his safety.

Dan wasn’t he only surprise visitor to the church, though the other was much less helpful. I didn’t personally see him so I can only repeat the story as I have heard it. Pablo, one of the gentlemen that work at the casa hogar laying the brick wall, will also help us in the evenings at the church tiling the bathroom. He’s super nice and a very, very hard worker. At any rate, he was working away in the bathroom after dark when there was a very loud banging coming from the other side of the church. When he lifted his eyes from his work, he saw a massive figure hammering away at the beam we had just hung. It was about three meters off the ground, yet the figure could reach standing on the ground. He was very dark and seemed to be content to beat away at the beam. When Jeff and I heard the story, Jeff suggested that it could have been a good spirit that came to help us with construction. When Habacuc translated that to Pablo, all he did was shake his head slowly from side to side. I’m not sure what it means that there is a nine or ten foot, dark, hammering spirit in the church, but construction to this point has been blessed with safety and accomplishment. I hope that it continues.

I get a short rest this weekend from working at the church. We are going up to the mountains since most all the kids are going on a youth event with Habacuc. Then we’ll return for our Christmas pageant, which I will fulfill my role of our lord and savior, Jesus. I can’t believe I agreed to this but there is no backing out at this point.

I hope everyone is having a very merry Christmas season. It would be fun to be home celebrating with everyone, but we are looking forward to taking some of the kids to the ocean soon and celebrating here at the home as well.

Its a boy!

2010-11-13T21:34:00.000-08:00

I'm sure many, if not all, have heard the news by now. Thankfully other avenues of communication exist besides my scattered postings and those that keep a keen ear to the grapevine have done much to inform me of every new development.

Really, things had settled into place nicely after the Huatulco trip. Jeff and I were working regularly with Santiago about the grounds of the Casa Hogar, the demands of fruit trees, hedges, shrubs and flowers keeping us busy. Andrea and Ricardo were preparing for a much needed and deserved vacation, and the group from the Chapel had arrived. Upon Habacuc's return from the Baja we were once again making progress on the new church building. All was good and ticking along according to plan.

Then Janelle asked me a peculiar question the next morning at breakfast. I told her that, yes I had checked my email last night. I was a bit confused as to why she was sending emails only about forty feet across the courtyard from her house to mine.

"No, this morning, did you check your email this morning?"

"No."

"Well, Andrea had her baby last night." Of course I was more than a little bewildered over the statement. Andrea was to go on vacation, return, and have the kid months later, but as it turns out, she barely made it to the hospital.

The email I was to read assured me of everyone's good health and that little Micah had, in fact, insisted on arriving almost eleven weeks early. The nature of such an unforeseen event raised a thick cloud of worry and concern, as well as speculation and theories as to the reasons behind happy surprise. Staff discussed, what they thought may have been peculiar events leading up to their departure. Members of the visiting group were eager to share snippets of information discovered from facebook pages or correspondence from other church members back home.

But as many fussed over pictures and posts only minutes old some could do nothing more than wait in anxious apprehension. Some of the boys were most concerned with the matter. The baby was supposed to born in Mexico, born a Mexican. One even asked, "how will we be brothers if he is American and I am not?"

The question struck me sharply. It dramatically testifies to the work of Ricardo and Andrea in the life of these boys and to the unintelligible segregation of national economies. I fumbled to respond and finally stumbled across, "porque hermanos tienen lo mismo padres." "Because brothers have the same parents."

We don't really say brother or sister in church in the states, but here in Mexico hermano Enrique visits the prisons. Hermana Chave shares in devotions. We pray "Our Father", so it makes sense to pray with our brothers and sisters.

I'm continually reminding some of the boys how much Andrea and Ricardo want to return and as soon as they are able. They are eager to see pictures and join in on Skype calls. It will be good for brothers to be united whenever it may happen.

California Dreaming?

2010-10-29T06:45:00.001-07:00

1. Barra De La Cruz

2. San Augustin

3. Grass Hut Chruch at San Augustin

4. From inside the church

5. Bayside of San Augustin

Barra De La Cruz

2010-10-28T20:32:00.000-07:00

So it has been a few weeks and the last couple blogs have been fairly heavy. There have been so many wonderfully carefree days and delightful fun with kids and staff. It isn't 24/7 drama. Sure sometimes it can be draining, but among whatever it is that may deplete or tire, there is also that which inspires and empowers. There is rest in this place.

The rest has come in days off or time to recover when feeling sick. Even being unexpectedly stranded in the city has broken up the routine. But if there were ever a place to get away from it all and completely relax, that place would be called Huatulco.

For anyone else Huatulco is about a 6 or 7 hours drive south from the mission sitting on the southern Pacific coast of the state. Luckily we had Habacuc who can complete it in a little over 5 hours including a stop for food. An impressive feat on such a winding mountain road in a 4 cylinder 12 passengers van. The man is a machine, using the entire lane and more to hold turns and keep momentum. Drafting close off the bumper of other vehicles, he sets up the pass. We snaked for hours through the southern mountains at double the posted speed limit. Scared at first, I soon gained courage after observing yet another precise and perfectly executed hairpin.

The entire point of the trip was to bring two of the young adults from our church down to help at church in Huatulco for a week or two. Arriving safely in the little beach town we dropped the kids at the church and hung out for the duration of the evening service. Haba talked with the other pastor at length, about what I'm not sure. Then, though late in the evening and dark as it was, we headed for the beach.

Walking across white sand in the heat of the night under moonlight was almost surreal. Not only that but there was an amazingly interesting hippie drum circle in full force. Beats raging complete with strung out, high on life and other things, hippie dancers. Seemed to be an eclectic group of Americans and Europeans. Not a local in the bunch that I could see. After a short walk and some time just gazing out at the watery expanse, we grab our sleeping bags and threw them out on the sand for the night.

Rising early the next morning we headed back to the pastor's house for breakfast. It was fantastic and bellies full we headed to their shed to borrow some surfboards. They had a bunch of old and busted, faded awesome boards. They handed us some of the beginner foam-tops and we were on our way.

We headed to a spot called San Augustin. There is actually a grass hut that serves as the church there on the ocean side of the point. On the cove side there is a string of grass hut restaurants and snorkel shops that are very busy at key points in the year but when we took to the beach there were only four other people. On the ocean side there were about eight or nine-foot waves crashing directly into a 45-degree beach so we took to the cove that was peaceful and quiet.

After taking a swim and then a long nap we ate some seviche and hung out and read for a bit. We were headed for another evening swim when I noticed some small waves were slipping past all the rocks and breaking over the choral in the bay. I grabbed one of the foam-tops and paddled out. A local kid joined me on a boogie board and we chatted and caught small short waves for about an hour. Then, as the tide slowly went out, the waves became a little faster and a little steeper and I went over the nose of the board and cut my hand a bit on the choral below. It was a sharp ending to my surf sesh, but I loved every second of it. We walked back over to the grass hut church and slept on the beach beside it for the night.

The next morning came early as Jeff and I were getting eaten alive by some unknown bug that came out of the sand to make us miserable. Haba opted for a room that some of the church members had offered to us, which was good because he was going to drive us back later. We were about to leave the wonderful San Augustin when some of the church members invited us to have breakfast at their little tienda. It was fresh fried fish with tomatoes and avocados and Coca Cola, of course. The breakfast of champions. We stayed and chatted with them for a while. Habacuc is never at a loss for keeping the conversation rolling. But we eventually left and Haba wanted to take us to a spot he said would be good for surfing. He wasn't kidding around.

We drove for about 45 mins and then it was down another bumpy dirt road to the beach. We had to stop and pay for access and we asked the guy how it was breaking today. "Mas o menos." "More or less," was the reply. I can't imagine what more would look like. We parked and walked past a grungy, skinny, sun beaten rabble hanging out by the lone tienda on the edge of the beach. I immediately felt like an outsider. They looked us up and down, eyebrows raised, and I knew, at least on some level, that I wouldn't be sharing any waves with these guys. I quickly found out why.

A few more steps and we had cleared a sandy knoll to a complete view of the best surf I had ever laid eyes upon. It was shocking. I immediately remembered pictures and footage of Jeffery’s Bay in South Africa and Honalua Bay in Maui. It was truly world class. A perfect right to left point break over a sandy bottom, it pealed beautifully for a few hundred yards into the bottom of the cove. Not only that but it was holding sets that were three and four meters high. A light offshore breeze held the wave for an extra second and the crew that was out caught wave after wave seemingly without effort. Catching the peak, they'd scream down the face and hook a huge bottom turn, powering back up to kick spray off the top. At that point they could make a full turn back into the wave or setup for the barrel only half way through the ride. Their rides were, in fact, so long that many of them rode it all the way into the sand and walked back to the end of the point and paddle in from there.

As much as I wanted to try my hand at perfection, I was truly out classed. Even if I had the skill and mustered enough courage to join the guild, I didn't have the proper stick. The beginner foam-tops we had wouldn't be able to hold a rail or carry enough speed to keep me in the blue on a wave like that. It would be like entering your broken down riding-lawnmower at the brickyard. We took some pictures, saw some iguanas and then headed for the car and home.

The last two days have been like many that have come to pass at the Casa Hogar. I woke early to drive kids to school and then returned to do some dishes. Jeff and I were again unsure as to what we would be doing but we were quickly given jobs about the grounds or going to town to run errands or sorting veggies. It was good to be back. The three of us had a ton of fun and now Haba is taking a group of kids to do worship music at the church down there and hang at the beach for a couple days. I know they will have a lot of fun. We are planning to go again around Christmas with some of the kids. Hopefully some day I'll be able to return to that perfect spot.

Visitation

2010-10-09T19:28:00.000-07:00

By now there has been an overall shift from general impressions to relationships. The subtlies of eighty some people's emotions mingle and colide in the prisom of the Casa Hogar. This space that is your home, your work place, and house of worship. There is little room to linger between professionalisms and personalities, an idea that kids don't understand and the staff have most likely forgotten. And if only that were all one had to worry about harmony could prevail but forces from outside easily upset all that is worked for in a monthly prescribe disaster we call visitation.

My relationship with the younger boys remains the same as it was when I first arived. I am a true to life, walking, talking jungle gym. We have a lot of fun in the yard just in front of our rooms. Before meals we'll often begin a game of soccer which soon deteriorates into chasing, tackling, and throwing until I literally couldn't lift the smallest of them anymore.

The older boys are great. I love our house. Its amazing to get to know their personalities and interests. We'll play soccer into the night with the older kids. They'll bring out lights and extension chords. Its pretty competitive. I usually get stuck at gollie because I'm not very good. We'll play music in the chapel. I'll drive them to school or town. We'll work on projects around the grounds and always eat as a family in the comador.

Its amazing to know the staff better and understand on some level. They only thing I could say about them all is that they are characters. Among the most captivating is Edgar the pastor. He is a jolly middle aged man that will do anything at any time for anyone if they ask. They only thing more interesting that being around him is other poeple telling stories of his many exploits. As the saying goes, "its not the year, its the mileage." Edgar has lived. Growing up in a gang and all that means, he has reformed to minister to the mountain poeple of the area. The violence didn't end with his gang membership. He has been threatend with a pointed gun, drawn knife and fists and other weapons. But if God be for him who can be against him. Those that hated his ministry in the mountains would lament that he would not die. Triggers have been pulled without firing, threats have been made but his family is safe and together and vibrant. I ate dinner with them tonight.

I work with Habacuc as I've mentioned who is the young new pastor of the church. Him and his wife Dennis live at the Casa Hogar with their daughter and they are the sweetest family. He's a busy boy. He's on the leadership team and supervises the university students as well as his pastoral duties. Even still they will invite me and Jeff over for dinner and bring us food and drink while we work at the church. His abilities are astounding. On top of being a studied and well spoken minister, he is an incredible musician. Drums, bass, guitar, even cello, he can play them all and very very well; technically and with style. At the construction of the new church, he welds and wires. When the welding machine broke he pulled it apart and fixed it. We make due with the materials we have. Its going to be an impressive building.

The wemon of the mission are equally impressive. Some are in the middle of the heart renching adoption process. Some fell into responsibilities without yet mastering the language. Others are the reason the mission exists in the first place. Niche has been caring for some of these kids before Foundation for His Ministry began funding her. She has seen them grown and come and go. I do not envey the bredth of human experience she has wittnessed and lived. Maybe standing 5ft off the ground she has been provider, protector and love for these kids. And even in such small stature she is the last stop on the discipline heirarchy. "Do we need to talk to Niche about this?" If that doesn't work, whatever she says to them does.

Even so, not all the care and best efforts of these remarkable people can erase the reason the kids are here in the first place. The staff wait in silent aprehension for the coming monthly reminder of this fact. Parent visitation happens once a month. Kids wait to see their parents. Some reunions are good and testify to reform, change or blessing that are happening in the lives of the parent and flood over into the life of the child. But many are disapointed when parents do not come. Some know that no one is on their way to visit, but the others that do arrive remind them of that. And even those whose parents come, they can't stay and the parent leaves once again. The cluster of emotional baggages spills over the afternoon. Its not uncommen to have kids acting out and differently around this percarious day.

Its tough for the staff to watch the kids they care for to be hurt by people that in some cases have never cared or come and go from there lives on no particular basis. If not for this mysterious biological connection it seems some kids would be better off. I've been told that some of the kids that never knew their parents are the most well-adjusted kids at the mission.

Of course it would be best for the parents to achieve a place where they could once again or for the first time provide a healthy and loving place for the child to be with them. But until that happens, the best place for them to be is here with these people I've mentioned and so many more. Its a privilage and an education to be here with them.

Photos

2010-10-08T20:17:00.000-07:00

1. Ninos playing soccer in the yard

2. Boys I drive to kinder

3. Celina, 2 year old we've been watching for a little bit

4. Dinner: toast and Jello

5. Celina and Vicky

A Bridge in Troubled Waters

2010-09-26T21:16:00.000-07:00

As days have come and gone, one thing we don’t need them to bring is more rain!

Work has continued to be sporadic for me around the mission. When I don’t go into town to the church, I’ve been able to help out with other projects and needs. I’ve been driving the kinder to school three days a week. After devotions I’ll grab the Ur Van and bring it round where the kids are waiting in their uniforms and there house parents heard them onboard. I’ll work with the boys on the weekends or when they have days off from school. I have cleared weeds, sanded furniture, moved cement and helped Ricardo with the vehicles. There is always something to do.

The work doesn’t just stop at the mission. The other day Ricardo asked if I would help “mow” at the kid’s school on a Saturday. We had no mower available to bring but we were going anyway. I was surprised to see that there was a huge group of volunteers there already. All the parents come a couple times a year to handle the grounds. I was even more surprised when the school’s gate locked behind me. The school collects so many volunteers by taking role of who shows up and fining the parents that don’t show. Then, if you don’t pay, they’ll suspend your kid. Once you’re there, they lock you in for as long as they need you. Feel free to suggest that to your local PTA. The mowing was actually sharp shovels and machetes hacking through the tall grass and weeds. Not the most efficient, but it got the job done. After a few hours they workers were gathered for announcements and arguing and then the gate was finally unlocked when everyone was sufficiently agitated and we were released. Free at last.

Between jobs, it has rained and rained a lot. The mountains around the valley are very steep and it doesn’t take long for the water to accumulate and start causing problems. The drive to the mission is constantly flooded but we can usually get vehicles through. I accompanied Jill and Janelle and little Celina to Oaxaca to get things for the house and help carry things on a Sam’s Club run. It was a successful trip and we were on our way home when Ricardo called and asked if we were going to be able to get back. Sure, sure, I’m sure we’ll have no problems. We did have problems. Shortly before Tlocelula traffic was backed up on account of bridge being party washed away. There was an option of a three or four hour drive around through other mountain roads that have the potential for the same problem, so we decided to stay in town.

We had hundreds of dollars of stuff from the store so we found a place that we could park inside and settled into an impromptu vacation. Everyone was worried about us but we were living it up on the town, though the girls were stressing because they were afraid they wouldn’t be able to leave on their long planned trip back to the states for a visit. But the Holiday Inn was more than comfortable and I had my first worm shower since I arrived in Oaxaca.

Luckily we awoke to sunny skies and the bridge had been stabilized enough to let light traffic through on one lane. We were on our way home. The traffic was backed up but it really didn’t take too long. Hopefully the rain holds off for now. If we get another squall like we’ve had the bridge might be completely wiped out.

I seem to enjoy unforeseen hiccups like these that create a little adventure. It was fun to get to know Jill and Janelle better, spend some time in town, and play with Celina who is two and will be staying with us while the girls are in Chicago, which they had no problem getting to their flight. Unfortunately, a little adventure for me was disaster for many people in the valley and the mountain villages. Towns are cut off, mudslides have knocked out homes and many fields and homes are flooded all over Oaxaca. Hopefully, the weather continues to dry out.

It’s easy to see a ripple effect of poverty when things like this happen. The country and state don’t have the money to build decent infrastructure, which is easily upset, which hampers commerce leaving less money. The people can’t have nice houses in nice places which flood or crumble, taking up more resources to build again. Some have said that it is unfair for these things to happen to poor people. It seems like they are poor because these things happen. Of course that is an overly simple explanation. It just boggles my mind that I have lived such a prosperous and privileged life that I am unaffected by things like rain. I’ve created an environment so artificial that even the most basic natural processes bare little, if any, impact on my daily life. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but it seems significant, though I’m not quite sure how. Maybe I’ll find out one day.

Embrace the Dysfunction

2010-09-20T22:18:00.000-07:00

So I’ve seemed to settle myself into life at the mission. I’ve got my own room, which hasn’t happened since I’ve lived at home, but the boys come in and say hi and meander about scrounging food and hassling one another. At first glance they appear to be typical teenagers and are expected to be a somewhat responsible member of the family. The dynamic of which is an interesting production around here. Given their stories, I’d have imagined bundling so many broken hearts under one roof would spell disaster, but what I’ve found is a family of sorts. Hard to see at first, it becomes easier if one applies the brilliant wisdom of my father, “Embrace the dysfunction.” To prove my father’s theory of happiness and stress-free living we’ll take another hike.

When I arrived the boys were on a break from school because of the independence holiday on the 16^th. One of the days they were off Pio, Jose and I went on a hike up the Sleeping Lady. La Muchacha Duermio is a small mountain behind the mission that looks like a lady lying on her back. We headed across the grounds till we were into a neighboring cornfield, beyond a small creak and on the way up. We scrambled up some rocks then into a little gully where we followed a stream, hopping from rock to rock. There was a path but we kept meandering from it, making things a little more difficult for ourselves than it had to be. Each time we deviated from the path I thought we would be moving on from the trajectory only to return a couple steps later. Then it dawned on me that Pio was leading. Pio is virtually blind. His eyesight is like looking through waxed paper. He plays computer games with eyes inches from the screen and reads with his nose literally in the pages. It was the blind leading the sighted, but even so we made it up to a beautiful waterfall and then eventually back safe and sound.

For my official duties I go into town with Habakuk, the new pastor to build the new church. So far we have been digging through concrete to sink new posts that will suspend the roof. The first day with sledge and crowbar in hand we cracked and smashed, swung and scraped some puny wholes that we would come back to finish the next day. I weakly suggested how much easier this would be with a jack hammer, to which Habakuk responded, “Yeah, we have one. We’ll bring it tomorrow.” His response puzzled me, as I’m sure the look on my face puzzled him. It did seem odd and that we would spend time and energy doing what was going to be completed in another manner anyway. I told this story to my sister later that afternoon to which she said, “Welcome to Mexico Nick.” No further explanation was needed. Wheedling the jackhammer was no walk in the park either, as it turned out. I’m sure our job is not to code. I didn’t bother to ask. Tasks are accomplished not with speed or procedure but simply accomplished. Our operation doesn’t possess the means, manpower, or resources to worry about such luxuries, and I think they are just that.

There is also dysfunction that can be embraced, but will not be tolerated. Not surprisingly, cleanliness, or lack there of, is one such catalysis for punishment. My sister, on more than one occasion during my short stay to this point, has foolishly complained to me, her brother who is not very clean either, of her kids messy closets and dirty rooms. Of course I’m shocked to hear that all ten teenage boys are not perfect housekeepers. After she vents to me there is a silent anticipation until the poor guilty child returns or is hunted down, conditions permitting.

Worse than general filthiness, is malicious messiness. On more than one occasion, one of the boys has booby-trapped another’s bed or shoes with dirty dishes, old food, or other readily available munitions. The culprit is easily weeded out by punishing the entire group for the offense. Nothing like a little social Darwinism to strengthen the bonds of brotherhood, but it works. The offender was given the choice of eating the festering food that was planted or relieving the victim of their chores for two weeks. The food must not have been this morning’s breakfast because the chores were more appealing.

Finally, seeing as how there are ten boys and only two sets of eyes to watch them, they are expected to be where they know they should be. Case and point? Pio. I went to the market after church with Ricardo, Pio, Fide, and Jose. The market was wonderful, beautiful sights and smells everywhere. There were interesting people and crafts, clothes, and wares. We walked to the end and then bought what we needed on our way back. At one point, Pio was missing. Apparently partial blindness is no excuse, because he got a talking to when he was found. Finally we were finishing up and Pio was gone again. Hopefully he would be at the car. He wasn’t. We left. Its about 4 kilometers back to the mission. I was assured he would be able to make his way back.

To embrace the dysfunction is to cope. Embracing the dysfunction takes care of ten boys. It feeds some sixty orphans three meals a day. It triumphs over tantrums, injuries, disputes, and bad days, but at some point this wise and sound philosophy crumbles under its own inadequacies. It is for profound and fundamentally dysfunctional homes and families that many of the kids are here. Many will carry it along with them for a lifetime, and its not that they have chosen to embrace it either. It was always there. Another adventure for me in another land with more interesting people is a struggle for these kids. Every day is a new story of another kid.

I’m sorry, I don’t really know how to turn this post around, and it’s getting pretty late. We’ll just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings us.

Oh, if you’re worried about Pio, he’s fine. He walked cross-town to join up with his friends from the mission and the youth group where they were selling hamburgers to raise money for an event they are going to put on. When Ricardo and I picked them up the other boys sang songs in the van on the way home of how he would be in trouble when he got back to Andrea.

Mexico City Photos

2010-09-15T21:56:00.000-07:00

1. Inside Mexico City Metropolitan Cathedral

2. Outside Cathedral in the Zocalo

3. Church in Tepoztlan

4. Aztec Pyramid

5. Happy Hiker

The Liturgy of Living in Tension

2010-09-13T18:06:00.000-07:00

If you’ve kept up with the blog, then you know I’m not a city boy. The romance of wilderness is far too appealing without the rapid pace and complication of business. Yet I’m captivated by Mexico City. The wonder of her architecture bears witness to the tangled web of culture that has exploded a massive population. Built on the ruins of one of the largest indigenous settlements in the Americas, it is the center for religion, commerce, and politics in a country struggling to keep up with contemporary western powers. To walk her streets is to be enfolded into her story, but first; a hike!

On Saturday I awoke to a bustling house. The baby awake, mom and dad were gathering different things they needed for a successful outing with a three-month-old. We were all headed south of the city to the small town of Tepoztlan. It was a beautiful pueblo with a Saturday market and cobblestone streets. We walked the market and grabbed a snack. Then we moved through to the end of the town for a short hike into the surrounding mountains.

It began with a series of stone steps lined with merchants peddling food and souvenirs, as this seemed to be a popular weekend hotspot. The trail was steep and we gained altitude rapidly shaded under heavy canopy. We were all breathing heavily and taking lots of breaks. I think the trail starts at about 5500 ft. It was very muggy and the sweat ran freely. It felt like old times. James had the baby and she seemed to like the hike or was asleep. I felt honored to accompany the Kitchins on Isa’s first hike. We made it to the top where sat an Aztec pyramid. It was very impressive. A plaque said that some of the carvings dated to the 16^th Century but the structure could very well be older. We snapped pictures of the pyramid and the valley below then headed down. The baby fussed a bit but then slept most the way. Then we headed to the cantina for dinner and ordered a two-person entre that three of us could not finish. What a wonderful hike.

Sunday was church. We went to a house church in the city that the Kitchins attend. It was beautiful. We all sat in a small yard and sang songs after just hanging for a while. Then, James, the missionary whose house we were at, gave a sermon. Everything being in Spanish I struggle to follow along. I was encouraged that I understood enough to turn to the 5^th chapter of Matthew, and he spoke of all the different types of people that attended the Sermon on the Mount. Yet the message they received was a peace in which they could all participate despite their differences. And knowing the peace, they live in the tension of imperfection and redemption.

We prayed and formally finished. Then the party started. The small church was celebrating a birthday. We ate very well and some danced. It was a blessed way to be in church.

Today I struck out on my own while the Kitchins were at work. I headed for the Zocalo. It is the main town square. After successfully navigating the metro and one train change, I walked up from the subway into the square. You pop out directly in front of the Mexico City Metropolitan Cathedral. It is astounding. Taking up one whole side of the square, it’s intimidating in both size and grandeur. Its construction lingered for centuries from the small church immediately after the conquest of Tenochtitlan in the 16^th century until after 1800. Some of the stones of the conquered Aztec temples were used in the construction.

The rapid influx of Catholicism through violence to the area brings new meaning to the idea of baptism by fire. The building seems to encapsulate the reverence and majesty of its tradition. But I can’t help but liken it, in my mind, to a head stone honoring the turbulent transition of the land. I do not envy the work of the Franciscan Monks whose task it was to reconcile the European force to the message of the Gospel. Yet somehow they did. They orchestrated aqueducts from the mountains to native villages. Learned hundreds of native tongues and navigated a rugged mountain wilderness. The shear number of devout Catholics today testifies of their work.

I walked in, removing my cap, as daily mass was in progress. The sound of raised voices echo in the massive chapel. I sat in wonder at the process until the priest administered the sacrament of communion and offered the benediction. All the while other tourists meandered and gazed, snapping pictures and whispering quietly to each other. The parishioners filed out into the square, where, in a matter of days, the president would address the country for its 200^th anniversary. “Viva Mexico.” From just across the square the nation’s leader pays tribute to the revolution from another country that brought them their faith from across the sea.

I arrived at the mission last night and spent today learning names and getting shone round the grounds. My sister rapidly educated me on the boy’s different and compelling backgrounds. Suddenly the tension of empire and conquest, religion and commerce, and history’s entire dramatic epic in Mexico now had a face. Their stories are beyond intimidating. What can I do? Fortunately there are wonderful people who have already begun the work and stand by and bend and strain under the tension that pulls on these kids. Hopefully I can learn their delicate and beautiful dance.

Now Turned and Facing Southern Skies

2010-09-09T21:38:00.000-07:00

It’s been almost one year to date from the time I lived afoot and free on the Pacific Crest Trail. Yet the memories of those days offer little satisfaction. Rather they have since stirred a need to be on the move once more. And so again I'll tempt fate for fortune to sing a new song, in a new place, with new friends, and find family in far off lands.

Trading in my boots for jet fuel, I've already more than doubled the distance of last summer's travels in the course of a couple weeks. If the trail had been an exercise in simplicity, modern international travel can be anything but. It begins, not with a single step, but with a series of web pages, ticket prices, invoices and emails only to be followed by buses, shuttles, boarder guards, airports and immigration officers. The excitement of what’s to come propels me beyond my frustrations and disdain for logistics, and somehow with broken Spanish, though by providence, I arrive via yet another shuttle in Mexico City.

James picks me up at the shuttle station. He and his wife Lauren have lived in the city almost two years, teaching and going to school as well. The three of us attended Point Loma in San Diego. James and I lived in the dorm together and also for a time after graduation. It’s wonderful to be with them. Not only that, but the two of them have become three and I've eagerly anticipated meeting their baby girl. But first thing first, the shuttle station was near the north end of the city and James and Lauren live on the southern side. A simple cross-town cruise is out of the question in a city more than twice the size of New York. Furthermore, it’s dark and raining. The streets are not well lit or clearly marked, and two years is hardly enough time to memorize a grid that size. James and I had plenty of time to catch up.

The city is incredible. It’s not as bright as other big cities but the dim glow seems to stretch endlessly. As we pass here and there James speaks of sights and history that could keep you busy indefinitely. Ruins outside the city in all directions, mountain towns, cathedrals, and castles too. Eventually we made it to the Periferico, a freeway that surrounds the city. We took the upper deck, giving new meaning to the term "highway"; because it’s a four-lane parkway directly on top another. It was getting later. The traffic wasn't too bad and we made it home safe and sound.

I'm so excited to spend time with my friends this afternoon. They are working so I took some time to sit and write, walk around the neighborhood, and grab some coffee. Certainly there will be much more to come. I can't explain the excitement of traveling again. Hopefully everyone will enjoy coming along for the ride once more. Though this trip will be immeasurably different than the last, I go in the same spirit and love that has blessed my previous comings and goings.

Its Always Sunny On Rainy Pass

2009-10-04T22:59:00.000-07:00

Stehekin was a wonderful stop. I wish I had more time to spend there but Canada beckoned. We set to leave on the early bus in the morning, and Kick, Annie (little jerry), and Buck all strategized to squeeze the maximum amount of sleep from the night, deciding to wake at the last possible moment. They had become accustomed to operating in the final seconds of deadline and schedule. It made things exciting, but difficult at times. It was no longer a problem however, because Canada seemed inevitable. There were no longer any intimidating barriers or problem spots or major concerns. That which had been so far was now closer than ever.

I woke earlier than the others. I wanted to enjoy a bit of the morning on the lake so I headed over to the lodge around six. I took a booth in the restaurant with a view of the lake and ordered some breakfast. It was mind boggling to think that it would end soon. I turned my mind to new projects and adventures that I could plan when I got home. I worried about being able to find a job and readjusting to a mainstream existence. Sleeping in a bed and eating whatever I wanted should not be a tough adjustment, yet I worried anyways.

The bus ride back to the trailhead was filled with excitement. All of the other riders congratulated us on our having come so far and for being in a position to finish. We stopped at the bakery again on the way out and we loaded up on muffins and cinnamon rolls. Our final breakfasts would be the most delicious of the trail. Having caught the bus in a rush of activity, getting their boxes from the PO and then heading straight to the departing bus, the guys had to sort their food at the ranger station where the bus route ended. Once everything was in order we were on our way.

I took off a little faster than the others. I wanted to get to Highway 20 as soon as possible because Mom and Dad were meeting me there with my final resupply. The trail meandered up a river canyon for almost the entire way and I took a short break at a cascading stream to eat my lunch. It was warm and dry, a condition fairly unique to this section. I noticed that the trail was at such a point on the Cascade divide that traveling on the eastern side of one mountain yielded dryer thorny shrub and long-needled pines. Traveling on the western side of the very next mountain would reveal dug firs and mushrooms, moss and greener vegetation.

So excited I was to see my family, I had arrived over an hour early to Rainy Pass in record time. I had average just over three miles per hour including my breaks along the way. I eagerly awaited the arrival of my family and snacked on what I had left of the wonderful bakery stop earlier that morning. As I went to walk around the parking lot of the trailhead and check for my folks Denise, Pamela and Brianna arrived. It was wonderful to see them but I think I tainted the new-car-smell of Denise’s new ride by throwing my rucksack in the back. Mom and Dad, Grandma and Uncle Tony followed a bit later and we all had a wonderful dinner in the Rainy Pass picnic area. Kickstep, Little Jerry, and Buck followed a bit later. They still couldn’t believe, even after all the other family filled Washington stops, that my family kept coming out to the trail with wonderful goodies for us all. Buck felt like he was on a fully supported thru-hike now. Then it started to get dark and family and friends departed so we retired to the other side of the highway to camp. Some rangers warned us about an aggressive bear that frequented the picnic area. So we pitched our tents close to one another for safety. Rangers were always good for some unwarranted worry or concern. No bear ever bothered us.

In the morning we all set out together. It was a pretty uneventful day of hiking. Of course, the scenery was amazing. We passed quite a few weekend warriors out for a good time. There were a couple stops to explain our curious commitment to high mileage. The mountains here were steep and gravelly. There were these wonderful trees that I forget the name of now, but Kick and Annie were excited about them because they also grew in Montana. They are the only conifer to loose their needles and before doing so they turn a bright yellowy golden color. We eventually made it to a lovely spring high in a bowl of one of the peaks. The water was ice cold and delicious. We were to camp fairly early for this bunch so we took the opportunity to make a campfire. It was a lot of fun. We rarely had time to relax in the evening so this was a treat. We all made dinner together then bedded down for the night. A deer persisted to eat up all the grass I had peed on before going to bed. It kept me up for a while but I eventually found rest.

Next was the last full day of hiking. We wanted to put in a thirty so we would be in close position to hit the border the next day early. There were some wonderful views that day. We passed some long mule trains bringing supplies in for the coming deer-hunting season. They looked very pretty and rugged from a distant but very smelly up close. We also ran into Burney and Stacy. It was good to see them again. They were headed back to Harts Pass to get picked up by family. They had just hit the boarder then turned around to hike back. I was excited for Stacy to be getting some much-needed rest soon. They are both super nice and it was wonderful to share in the success of a common victory.

Soon after our little reunion there was the final climb of the whole tail. It took us up to an unnamed mountaintop over 7000 ft. From there it would be all down hill to the border. We were stopping however, at a small lake to camp for the night. It was a wonderfully small lake and there was one other camper there. We said hi and then set camp a little ways away. He was an older gentleman and was content to sit on a rock and gaze upon the lake for the entire time we made camp and dinner. It was weird to think this was the last time I would use my tent for some time, and I’m glad I put it up because we received a light sprinkle from some passing clouds during the night. Buck had to put his shelter up quickly in the dark when it started to fall.

Kick and Annie never caught up to us that night. We assumed they stopped on the ridge and camped there. We rose a bit later in the morning than we had previously planned knowing they would take a bit to catch us. We all wanted to make it to Canada together. Shortly after packing up we heard a voice up the trail yelling, “Canada! Canada!” It was Kick and Annie. Annie was so excited to being finished. She was also excited because Kickstep had used their last evening on the trail to propose. It was a happy day. They had had such a trying hike. I was definitely challenged on my journey but not like they were. Sickness, injuries, and deadlines had made the trail very difficult on them both. But they had made it just the same, and now they had even happier things to look forward to.

We closed the final seven miles quickly. The anticipation building and building until we ultimately laid eyes on the monument. It was rather meager, I thought, for such a grand trip, but it would certainly do. We took pictures and then signed the register. Then who would show up but Fred Laun? He had hiked the eight or so miles in from Manning Park to see us finish. Not only that but he brought some chocolate and pretzels and a six-pack of beer. I’d imagine that no one else had ever had such a celebration at the border as we were having. There we were, nine in the morning, toasting our success with a cold one.

Eventually we had to reconcile ourselves to another 8 miles and a thousand foot climb just to top things off before reaching civilization. When we arrived at the trailhead Grandpa and Uncle Tony were waiting for us and shuttled us to the park for lunch. Grandma and Mom were there in the store getting some food for everyone and missed our triumphant entry but it was just exciting to be done. I got a shower at the lodge and then we had another toast in the parking lot with the family. It was sad to leave my friends but we had to get going back to the states.

And just like that the Pct was over. It was almost startling how the end or even a goal can sneak up on you. Of course it was wonderful to be home and have a bed, good food, time to relax a bit, but the trail had provided a different kind of comfort. There was almost a sense of security in its simplicity, in its community, in the lifestyle. To some extent I found identity in what I was doing. I found likeminded people and minds unlike I have ever encountered before. There was relief in daily progress. There was purpose in the challenges that the trail presents and shared experience endeared the other hikers to me. The trail was special to me because of the people I met.

Well, I hope everyone enjoyed the blog. Thanks for taking an interest in my little trek. Sorry for taking so long to wrap things up. I think maybe I didn’t quite want it to end so I left the last page open as long as I could. All good things come to and end they say, but there will surely be other trips, other adventures and new people to meet. In the meantime I’m fortunate to have wonderful people around me now. I’d encourage everyone to go adventure for their self, either for just the day or for the duration. Let no reservation anchor a restless spirit.

God bless.

The Suiattle Scoot

2009-09-21T13:26:00.000-07:00

We woke up in Skykomish to a cloudy blustery day. With the rain coming down none were excited about waiting around in the weather to hitch a ride so we put a call into the Dinsmores that live up the way and gave rides to hikers. There was a little confusion about where and when to get picked up but it was eventually sorted and we made it to the trail. It would be a long four-day trek to Stehekin.

We hit the trail, quickly becoming soaked as the rain began to fall. Shortly along our way we ran into a south-bounding equestrian who’s treacherous adventure had preceded her. The story she confirmed to us was that she was taking her two horses around the washed-out section in the Glacier Mount Wilderness on the forest service detour. She had only been off her horse for less than a hundred yards when the trail gave way and her horses took a thousand foot fall. She fell about 50 ft but was more or less okay. Her horses did not fair as well. They choppered her out of there and retrieved her gear but the horses stayed as they were. I couldn’t believe she wanted to continue after something like that. It was the saddest story I’d heard on the trail. We were all concerned for her thinking of all the treacherous spots that we had just passed. We spent the rest of the day hiking through the rain.

The morning brought still more wet weather. It was colder too. We made it about six miles before we had had enough. We all decided to pull up early by a small creek to wait out Mother Nature. It was a long and miserable day. I was completely soaked; wet tent, wet sleeping bag and clothes. It was a cold soggy day. All in all, we would spend over twenty hours in our little shelters waiting for morning. I think I would have been warmer and generally happier if we had just hiked through it but I wanted to stay with the group. It was encouraging to know that better weather was forecasted for the next day. All there was to do was to make a warm meal and curl up to sleep.

When we got moving the next day we were all feeling the pressure. A short six-mile-day had left us far behind schedule and to make Stehekin at a decent hour we would have to move. Aside from being a little behind we had perhaps the most beautiful day of the trip to enjoy. The rain that had fallen on us the previous day and night had no chance to melt a thousand feet higher and when the clouds cleared from the rising sun we enjoyed a plethora of wonderful sights. As far as we could tell it was the first snow of the season. It was only a light dusting but it was enough to brighten the surrounding peaks. Just beneath the snow level the foliage was changing color. There were breath-taking shades of reds, yellows and browns below the crystal clean white snow. We were most excited for the blue sky and eagerly waited for the day to warm so we could dry our things.

Later in the day we decided to hike late, which I absolutely loath, so that we would be in better position to get in earlier to Stehekin. I had only hiked the one night out of Hikertown before meeting up with Kickstep, Annie and Buck 30. I always liked hiking early, getting my miles in, and then relaxing in camp for the evening. But there I was, hiking into the darkness after nine pm, desperately searching for a suitable campsite. Kickstep Annie and I lost heart early and settled for a mediocre spot and made camp. Buck went only about 10 more minutes and found a very nice spot but we didn’t know that until morning. I was just glad to finally be going to sleep. The next day had quite exciting potential.

There was a certain potential for disaster the following day. We had to cover over 25 miles in order for the 3 0’clock Stehekin bus to be possible and it would be a 5000 + ft day of climbing. On top of that we would also be crossing the infamous Suiattle River. It is a long log crossing over a lot of fast moving glacial melt, impossible to climb out should some poor soul fall. Many have advised not to walk but to scoot across the log for stability. Annie was especially nervous, but she had made it this far and it was hard to think any of us could be stopped at this point in the journey.

Before I continue I should probably tell a bit about Kick and Annie’s trip. It differed greatly from my own. They had started 3 weeks after I did on May 1^st. I suppose they had enjoyed half of the zero days of which I indulged. Annie had foot problems for most of the trail it sounded, and she had contracted Guardia at one point. They had been under the gun to finish so they could make it to her brothers wedding in Omaha the third week of September. It was a tough way to thru-hike. There wasn’t much room for error.

In any event, after a navigation error between some old, new and incomplete trails below Glacier Peak we were now dropping toward the mighty Suattle. The error had cost us some time and we were meeting the river at the worst time, late in the day. The glacier has had all day in the sun and the river would be running at its strongest when we arrived. Closing in on the sound of rushing water, we had to navigate an enormous wash. It was obvious that the river would not be crossed at certain times of the year. The entire valley floor had be uprooted by the river and countless logs had been scattered throughout the gravel wash. Fortunately, like most things it seems, the river was all hype. It could have been forded, but wanting to stay dry Buck 30 and I eventually found the right log and walked across without incident. Kick and Annie caught us while we were trying to locate the trail on the other side of the river. Annie made an executive decision that they would both be scooting across the log on their butts. Kick told us later that the conversation went like this, “I think we could walk across.”

Annie replied calmly I’m sure, “If you walk across that log I’m breaking up with you!“ They both scooted to safety.

The evening ended with more night hiking. Two nights in a row was rough but I really wanted to stay with the group so I bit the bullet and hiked into the night for the last time. We had not seen anyone outside of our little group through the whole wilderness area and then happened on some other backpackers in the night. It was very strange. He was quite nice though, offering a flat spot right next to his tent, but not wanting to disturb more than we already had we chose another site near by.

In the morning we took off at a break-neck pace to catch the 3’oclock bus into Stehekin. Kick and Annie were going to shoot for the 6pm bus. Buck and I wanted to make it in time to hit the bakery we had been hearing so much about and have time to clean up in town. Stehekin was amazing. High mountains shot right up out of the lake and it was littered with wonderfully old log homesteads. Because of the rain delay earlier in the week we were getting to the bus with little food and huge appetites. All we could think about was the Bakery. After confirming its hours and that it was still opened we eagerly climbed aboard the bus. We quickly grew frustrated when the bus did not leave immediately. There were a number of other on the bus and Buck was becoming outraged when everyone wanted to stop at the waterfall for pictures, the old school house for a look, dropping people off at the Ranch Resort. We were pulling our hair out by the time we got to that bakery. WE finally arrived and they had everything we needed; pizza, cinnamon rolls, muffins and cookies. The bus finally made it down to the lodge and we went over to the public bath for showers and laundry while we waited for Kick and Annie to come in on the next bus. As if the bakery were not enough we had dinner at the Lodge before retiring to the campground down the street for the night.

It was hard to fathom that there was only one section left. It was a mixed emotional paradox. There was an excitement to finish such a lofty goal but at the same time it was sad to think that such adventure could end. We were all pleased to hear that the weather should not be a problem through to Canada. Canada, I don’t think I had ever considered the possibility of actually getting there until it was the only objective left to reach. My thoughts quickly turned to other adventures that would come along. I thought Stehekin would be a really nice place to bring a canoe or if I could find other places further away that would be like it. I thought about the friends I had made and wondered how much we would stay in touch or what their next adventure would be. Still there was another section to complete. No need to get all sappy just yet. I guess there is an appropriate time for such things but it would have to wait. For now I would just concentrate on savoring the last days.

Back in the Backyard

2009-09-05T22:17:00.000-07:00

We left I-90 in the afternoon. There were wildfires burning in the next section so we were taking an alternate route that would take us around the hot spots. Starting from the Alpental trailhead, we started up a sharp but short climb to Snow Lake. It was a pretty popular spot, and as it was a beautiful day, there were plenty of poeple out. The nicely groomed trail quickly gave way a few miles beyond the lake to a rugged steep brush covered path. The alternate was to shave a few miles but the nature of the trail probably evened things out timing wise. Our goal was about 10 miles and when we arive we made camp. It would be a long night.

I fell asleep after a quick dinner and slept for a few hours. I was awakened by a strong rain against the tent and if that hadn't rousted the others the following thunder certainly did. It was quite the storm. What it lacked in wind it made up for in sheer volume. I could feel the thunder in my chest. It was rather startling. After a sky splitting explosion, I thought it was the very loudest thunder I had ever heard, only to be proven wrong by the following blast. When I opened my eyes the tent repeatedly lit up with the flash of lightning. They were so close together it was impossible to count the seconds between the flash and the thunder, but it was aparent that the storm couldn't get any closer.

The morning finally came and the rain subsided. We packed up our soggy tents and complained of the extra weight we had to carry now that things were saturated. We put in about 24 miles and made it back to the PCT. We all were thankful to be back on good tread. It was pretty uneventful hiking. It was raining most of the morning and we were rather soaked. Luckily when we joined the PCT some other hikers had stopped for the day and had a fire going. It was a lovely surprise and a nice little break before moving on. Near the end of the day we found ourselves in the middle of a climb and couldn't camp exactly when we wanted to. I've been hiking later into the evening with Buck, Kickstep and Annie so I get a little cranky when camping cannot be found and the day stretches toward 8.

We wanted to wake early and get a good start, but it was a rather cold morning and we all lingered in our tents before making our move to the trail. It was a nicer day from the start and we dried our things at lunch. There were some nice climbs. 2000 ft took us over a ridge and we came out with a nice view of Glacier Peak. We'd camp within 8 miles of the pass at a lake. It would be another rainy night.

In the morning it was not raining while I ate breakfast but when I went to get out of the tent of course the drops started to fall. That made packing up a very quick operation and we were soon on our way. More climbing and Buck 30 and I had broken away from the couple. Dad was at the pass with the BBQ so we didn't take any breaks on our way to the trailhead. It was funny being back at Stevens Pass. The trail follows the chairlifts up the backside of the resort and everything was familiar to me. I told buck about a bunch of trips up to the resort and where we would go; the cat tracks and shoots and diamond runs as if he cared. Up and over the last ridge, right next to the Tye Mill chairlift, we quickly made our way down and ran into Uncle Tony as he was coming up the trail to meet us. Then my cousin Josh came around the corner and we all walked down together. There were a bunch of people there to great us. Dad had the BBQ going just like he said and we ate to our hearts content.

It was fun to see everyone. After all the festivities we made our way into Skykomish and found a hostel type place to relax and dry out. I can't believe this is our second to last town stop. We'll get to Stihekan in about 4 days and then its only another four into the boarder. Somehow, even after the whole summer and all the miles, I'm quite surprised to be this close. I don't know how a goal that I've had my eye one for more than a year could sneak up on me, but it did. I'm sure it will be all over all too soon. I'm taking every opportunity to enjoy the time I have left and I'm glad I've made some good friends in Buck 30, Kickstep, and Annie to share it with.

The Dude Abides

2009-09-02T09:43:00.000-07:00

Finally into the final state, my spirits lifted and I hiked with a new confidence that I might actually, truly reach the Canadian boarder. The beginning of the WA trail was a slow and steady climb through some clear cuts and under power lines. The only real scenery was a look back down the Columbia River Gorge behind.

I soon caught Steve and Bethany, a couple whom had past Uncle Tony and me a couple days ago. They are both teachers and have taught across the country at different intervals which allow them to travel and participate in a number of trip and adventures between teaching gigs. Steve is a tall slender dude with a billowing low baritone voice. He grew up in South America and has wonderful stories of the people and culture of his youth. Bethany is a soft faced young women with dark hair and a warm personable presence. She's from Seattle and it sounds as if they will end up there after the hike. I really enjoyed hiking with these two. The seem to have a wonderful passion for living well and with an intention and purpose. The are both vegan so it is always interesting to see what they have for dinner. Their main staple is an Andean grain called quinwa that is high in calorie and a good source of protein. We eventually linked up with I Spy and Booty, and it became for me, a first rate education in relationships on the trail. Both couples worked wonderfully together. By now there was a system and procedure in place for cooking meals and setting up camp. Would be nice to have someone to share the work and help motivate a hiker out here. They sure brought a unique perspective to the idea of dating or marriage. It really doesn't seem too bad if you can get out and go places like these couples were doing.

So close to the end now, we all talked of other trips and hikes we would like to do. There are marathons to be attempted and triathlons to train for. Much research is needed in the areas of the Idaho Centennial Trail, paddling the Inside Passage, or trekking abroad in other countries. I exchanged contact info with Steve and Bethany in hopes of doing some cycling and running together in Seattle after the trail. They are getting off at I-90 to attend Bumper Shoot so I'll be finishing a few days before they'll get done.

We all hiked together through the Goat Rock Wilderness south of White Pass. We also saw Buck 30 and Kickstep and Annie as well. It was a challenging section with wonderful views of Rainier in the distance. We saw mountain goats and elk. The great weather and beautiful sunsets made it the most scenic area yet, I think. There was a great section, trekking on the top of a "knife blade", that is the top of a very slender ridge. It was near the end of the day and we were all trying to get off of it before dark. Booty, I Spy and I made it a little more difficult by taking the stock trail around a steep section. It only added a bit of distance and about 800 ft of climbing but we had amazing views atop of Old Snowy Mountain. Anyhow, we all made it safely off and then took off for White Pass in the morning.

I tried to be up and moving early but I never caught Buck 30. He is a wild man on town days, trying to get in as early as possible. I made it to the small store and gas station around 12:30, a good hour after Buck. Dad was there waiting for me with the resupply. Its so much fun to see family on the trail. Eventually all the couples made it into the store and we hung out eating the fried deli food in the gas station for the afternoon. There was laundry there too so that was a plus, but the only shower was a hose behind the station. I made it work. Unfortunately I Spy and Booty didn't receive their resupply box so when dad was leaving he gave them a ride to I-5 and they were going to hitch back to Cascade Locks for a trail days weekend. I was bummed to not be hiking with them anymore but we vowed to stay in touch. We all left the store around 6 and hiked in 3 miles to camp at a lake. Since it was a short trek to camp Kickstep packed in a 6-pack and we all enjoyed a cold one at dinner.

In the morning I was up and going early. I wanted to get thirty in so it would be a short hike to the cabin the next day. I was again saddened to leave Steve and Bethany behind because they were drawing out their hike to Snoqualmie, getting picked up on Wednesday the day after we would be getting, so they could get to Bumper Shoot. I saw a ton of elk that morning but it was impossible to get a picture through all the underbrush. I hope I can eventually get a good picture of the massive beasts. I hiked most of the day alone and got my thirty in. The next day I took my time making miles as I was only trying for 20. There was a cabin built by a snowmobile club that we wanted to stay at. It was on the edge a the very beautiful Government Meadows, called Camp Urich. I got in at about 4:30 and waited for my friends. Avo showed up. I thought he was ahead of us but he had taken a zero and was now catching up. Buck, Kickstep and Annie followed shortly and we all had a nice evening in the cabin with some dinner and hot chocolate.

First to get going in the morning again I spooked yet another heard of elk just beyond the meadow. Still, in the dim lighting and with all the brush I could not get a decent picture. They are quite stealthy as they move slowly through the forest grazing on branch and limb but when they are spooked they move through the undergrowth with all the grace and silence of a boulder crashing through the trees. Its quite startling when they decide to up and go. I ended up hiking a few miles extra that day on account of not finding suitable camping. I was able to get a cell signal and catch the folks to let them know what time I would be into Snoqualmie the next day. Then finally I made camp just before dark at Stirrup Creek. Town in the morning.

Up even earlier with the excitement of family and town, I set off to close the 13 mile gap. I hiked quickly through a foggy and damp forest. Clouds moved through the trees as I went up and down over the ridges. It was very muggy for how cool it was and the moisture just clung to my cloths and pack. About halfway there I spotted a wonderful sight. It one of the prettiest features that nature cannot produce, a small white styrofoam cooler. It had a trail register with it so I signed in and looked inside. There were a few sodas. I took a 5 and drank one down before continuing. Coming over the last rise to the ski resort I looked down to the highway below and left the trail to make a B-line for the Summit Inn where we all decided we would stay. Buck caught me right at the bottom of the slope and we made haste to check in. Shortly after getting showered I got a call from Grandma and Grandpa who had come to visit. After that the welcoming committee continued to pull in through the last of the morning. Mom and Dad were there. My friend Mike and Carol and Cousin Dana came. Grandma and Grandpa Rogers came and even Uncle Tony had recovered to come and visit again. Even our friend Kelly came from the Stanwood/ Camano paper to ask me questions for an article. Yeah, I'm gonna be famous. It was quite the party.

We all went down the road to a little picnic area to have lunch and hang out. It was so much fun to see everyone and they all brought wonderful food to enjoy. Its already so nice to be close to family again. We spent the rest of the afternoon together but eventually everyone had to make the drive home. After goodbyes I headed back to the room to start relaxing.

I really enjoy hiking with Buck and Kickstep and Annie. We are trying to make plans that will finish out the trail together. I'm getting excited to be finishing up soon. I have been nervous about reentering society and looking for work, but with the folks I have met on trail I've gained a confidence that I know things will work out. Whatever happens or whatever I end up doing I know I'll be happy. However you what to say it, "come what may", "thou mayst", or " the Dude abides", the details in life don't matter but the people they associate with do. Plus its more fun not knowing whats around the corner all the time.

Oregon I Bearly Knew You

2009-09-01T22:37:00.000-07:00

After breakfast I yogied a hitch out of Sister after a bit of doing. No one was stopping after a fun weekend in the mountains, so I headed across the street to just ask for a ride at the gas station. There was a prime candidate fueling up. It was an SUV with a kayaks on tops. When I ask if he was headed over the pass to the PCT, he pointed out his two boys in the back seat and said there was no room. I told him briefly I was just trying to continue my thru-hike of the PCT and then I went back across the street to spring my trap. To leave the gas station they would have to pull up to the intersection facing me and then turn left across traffic to pass directly in front of me, so I waited. When they pulled out I put on my most desperate and pathetic, needy face but all while managing a meager smile and hoped. Sure enough, after turning they pulled onto the shoulder and said, " Ah we can make room." I was very grateful and we enjoyed a delightful round of Q and A regarding my trip during the ride up the pass.

Happily on my way again, I made great time passing many a day-hiker and the weekend warriors making their way back to the trail head after their weekend wilderness adventure. I was sad to be leaving Hop Skip but I knew I would be catching I Spy and Booty soon. At the end of the day I met Doug, a thru-hiker from the east coast and an AT vet. He kept a brisk pace and we made it to camp early. We hiked together for a few days and made good time. We constantly quoted Monte Python to entertain ourselves and fantasized about the glorious breakfast that awaited us at our next stop, Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood. I was particularly excited to get to the lodge because my grandma and grandpa were dropping off my Uncle Tony who would be hiking with me to the WA boarder. The section was mostly uneventful. The only excitement were three black bear encounters. One I didn't exactly see, but he was close. I could hear him moving through the brush away from me. The other two times the bears were also quick to run away.

The day before we were to get to Timberline, Doug and I were determined to get as close to the lodge as possible before making camp. We ended up hiking my longest day yet of 39 miles. I was exhausted but we were only 5 miles out. The next morning we were up and at it early. There was a steep climb up the south slope of Mount Hood and it would have been even shorter to the lodge but there was a huge ravine that had to be hiked up and around and then back down to the lodge. We were there before breakfast was even being served and we were first in line to get some. It was quite a feast. There was fresh squeezed orange juice, waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, the works. We sat and ate several helpings a piece and finished by the time the family drove up.

After the long day before, I was looking forward to hiking with my uncle and scaling back the mileage for a bit. The trail just skirts around Mount Hood with great views of Mount Jefferson from which I had just hiked. We put in about 10 miles after breakfast and made camp. The next two days were a cool 15 miles a piece and we took a recommended alternate route to the Columbia down Eagle Creek. It was a gorgeous trail. It followed the creek as it winds toward the mighty Columbia but it was on a ledge for a bit of the time, high above the running water below. There were wonderful waterfalls, even one you could walk behind. When we got to the trail head Wolfman was waiting there for some hikers. He was hoping another thru-hiker could take him up to a trail and then slack his car back to the trail head. Tony wasn't to excited about the final 3 miles into the town of Cascade Locks so he drove him up there and then when the folks got into town, they were able to grab him from the trail head after the car was back. Then we were finally at the Bridge of the Gods.

The Bridge of the Gods is the bridge from Cascade Locks into Stevenson, crossing into the last state of the trip. It was a huge milestone, but there were other reasons to be happy to be so far. My friends Zach and Rachel that live in Gresham were able to come out to visit and Marc and Nicole even made the drive down from Seattle. Its been amazing to make new friends on the trail but it is very special to have old friends come out to visit. We had a great time in town. We swam in the Columbia and then had dinner at the Walking Man brewery in Stevenson. We spent the night back across the river in Cascade Locks. I couldn't believe that after spending three months in California, Oregon was over in a matter of weeks. The next morning we had breakfast and then in was back to the trail. Dad slacked my pack across the bridge and we walked together back into the home state.

Oh the Possibilities

2009-08-15T20:09:00.001-07:00

So Mom, Dad and Andrea dropped me off at Mazama Campground where I had left off and started the long drive home. I missed them immediately. As I've said before, its the miles just following a visit from a loved one that can be the toughest. Being so close to the finish does make it a little easier. Even though its been a bit colder in Oregon I feel a little more comfortable now that I'm back in the Northwest.

That afternoon I made the quick climb from the campground to Crater Lake's south rim. As I made my way through the trees, I noticed a rather large deer grazing in a small meadow. Just as it was noticed, its head snapped to attention upon my arrival. It quickly turned and sped up the slope through the underbrush and as it did I realized it was not a deer at all. It was quite obviously a cow elk. Furthermore, as it retreated, though they were not seen through the thick forest foliage, the sound of many more of its friends could be herd charging up the same hill. Hard to tell just how many there were, but I would guess it to be about a dozen from the mighty rumble the stampede made.

We had just completed a full drive around the lake with the family but to walk up over the rim into plain view of such a massive watery expanse was incredible. I'm not sure if its allowed but I made a nice camp on the crux of the rim. I made an effort to hide myself in the shelter of a few trees just in case some overzealous rangers were working late. After a few pictures I bedded down for the night, sure to be up in time for sunrise the next morning.

Camped on the southwestern side of the rim the sun rose directly across the Lake to me. Sleeping a bit through my alarm, I awoke to the sky already bright with an orange horizon, slowly dulling as the sphere rose higher from the dawn. The far rim of the lake hung silhouetted against the oncoming glow and its waters below a deep and chilly blue. I took my time breaking camp and didn't get hiking until the last of the morning's performance was over.

The miles went quickly as I dropped elevation from the tall rim. Though the next section to Willamette Pass was quite level, as far as PCT miles are concerned, they would prove to be rather treacherous in their own right. The trail to highway 58 connects countless small lakes and ponds. Mosquitoes by the swarms stalked one's every move. The miles accumulated quickly because breaks were cut rather short on account of being so molested by the tiny vampires. It was easiest to just keep moving. On my own again, I set my own pace and schedule. I found that I enjoyed waking early and hiking in three hour increments. Most three hour stints took me just shy of ten miles and with one morning break I could have as many as 17 or 18 mile in by the time I broke for lunch. A somewhat arduous morning pace was rewarded by a leisurely evening with time even for a bit of reading. I'm embarrassed to say that I've been carrying the same novel since Kennedy meadows, some two months ago. With the miles flying by, I quickly found myself near Willamette Pass where I put into Shelter Cove Resort for some food and showers that came at a resort price but I got something even better for free; Friends!

Shelter Cove was a nice little resting spot. It was right on the west shore of the grand Odell Lake near the top of the pass. As I sat sorting my newly washed clothes and stuffing my rucksack with food another hiker strolled into the resort. The kid had style. Sporting an oil slicked felt hat with a few feathers in the band, bandanna around the neck but falling to the side over the shoulder, he had custom wooden trekking polls with leather handle straps and wore his sheet of bug netting around his waist like a sash to pull his pack tight against his back. His name was Cody and he had put on to the trail at Crater Lake and was section hiking up to Portland where he is from. Cody impressed me and inspired me. I came to find out that along with his custom trekking polls he also sewed and stitched the pack he carried along with his tarp tent that doubles as a poncho. I wish I could be that handy and have resolved myself to becoming so. I was delighted that we would be hiking on together for the next few days.

We left the resort late that afternoon and made it about 7 miles beyond the pass to a cabin shelter maintained by the forest service. We took up camp there for the night and shared it with some other Oregon section hikers. There was Mace, Gwen Bug, and Wildman all of whom were delightful company. Later just before we were turning in I Spy and Booty came in to join us. They are a young couple from Colorado and are hiking on through to Canada as well. I've had a ton of fun hiking with these three. Great conversation, joking, and new lives and personalities to learn about make for really pleasant miles. After the cabin we were spread out along the trail the next day and camped in various spots. I was up early the next day and being a little low on food, I put into Elks Lake Resort for a meal and a few snacks. I made the 8 miles by a little after 8 a.m. The only problem was that the restaurant didn't open until ten. It started to rain so I wasn't going anywhere and I took up refuge on their deck under canopy. With my rarely read novel in hand, I was ready to wait them out.

I didn't get too far into the pages before Billy Goat sauntered up to the Deck. He had just beat the heaviest of the rain. I had run into Billy Goat a number of times on my trip. He jumps from section to section and, as I learned, hikes pretty much year round. At 70 years of age he bookends the age spectrum and is quite the trail celebrity. An article about him was front page of the LA Times at one point and every hiker knows him. I reintroduced myself to him and we chatted until the diner finally opened. As it did and we took our seats Cody, I Spy and Booty arrived and we all enjoyed a delicious meal out of the rain. With a gloomy day in progress we took our time leaving and only made 15 or so more miles that day. We all camped together at a small lake and took off at different intervals in the morning. I made my way out to the front of the pack but it wouldn't be that last time I would see them.

That day I was headed for Big Lake Youth Camp on the other side of highway 242. It was about 28 miles away and I wanted to get there for dinner so I wasn't wasting any time. Even at a brisk pace I had to stop frequently to take pictures of such a unique and impressive landscape. We were passing the Three Sisters mountain peaks. We couldn't exactly see the peaks for they were obscured by clouds but beneath them lay a vast and treacherous volcanic landscape. Huge fields of volcanic rock stretch down toward the valleys below. They reach for miles until the forest finally bleeds onto the rocky soil. Uphill from the trail not a single shrub rises from the rugged and solid formations. I couldn't help but think of the massive forces lurking below that could have created such an amazing scene. Though the volcanic mountains of the Cascade Range are barely half the height of the mighty Sierra Nevada, they posses a power, an intimidation that the Sierra lack. Walking over the sharp pumice and obsidian rock I wondered what manor of plant or animal lies berried beneath and how many times such violence has come to pass in the lifetime of these mountains. It is very much a beautiful danger but a danger none the less.

Through the ever present geological danger, I managed to navigate the lava fields and arrive at the youth camp safely before dinner was served. The staff set me up with a visitors pass and I was able to get showered and wash my clothes. Unfortunately my resupply box did not arrive so I arranged for it to be intercepted in the Town of Sisters and I would pick it up there the next day. Cody, I Spy and Booty never caught me that day. They had either pulled up early or hitched to Sisters from the closer highway. I had dinner amidst a mass of campers in a very loud and very crowded mess hall. There were a couple other hikers there too. Donuts, a young man just out of college from Puyallup as well as Easy Rider and Snow Berry, two section hikers from Oregon finishing their home state.

The next morning I was up early again and closed the 6 mile gap to Highway 20 by 7:15 am. The cars were moving rather quickly, probably on their morning commute to Bend, but I did manage a hitch without much of a wait. Dan was on his way into Sisters to see about a pair of kayaks he was looking to buy and stopped to help me into town. He was super nice and very impressed with my hike. The excitement people have for the trip is very different in the Northwest than in California. Californians seemed to be amazed at the entire feat in general, while Northwesterners seem to be excited at the prospect of one day doing it themselves. It was fun to talk about outdoorsy exploits. He is a transplant to Oregon from Vermont if I remember right. He had hiked some of the AT but enjoyed the west coast much more. He dropped me in town at the best breakfast spot where I was reunited to Cody who was now Hop Skip for he sometimes jovially skips and bounces on some of the downhills. Sure enough the three of them had hitched into town from the 242 where I had had lunch the day before. Cody was staying in town another night so decided to stay too after my box did not arrive in town either. I spent the day resupplying at the super market and filling my body with calories; pizza, soda, hot fudge sundae. I Spy and Booty left around noon and Easy Rider and Snow Berry arrived and share the room with us because the place was booked up otherwise.

I'll make tracks in the morning after breakfast. The next stop is Timberline Lodge where I'll be meeting my uncle who is hiking to Cascade Locks with me. I can't wait to see him and I'm so excited to be so close to the final state of the trip. Oregon has been wonderful. The trail has been great. The people have been amazing and the weather has held off for the most part. Its a little scary because my mind has been wandering lately, thinking of other trips that may be exciting and skills that I would like to learn. The trip has become an exercises in possibility. But possibilities are nothing really, neither possible or impossible until they are reached for with bold attempts. Whether these will bring success or failure is not known but hardly important. For they will inevitably bring stories, experience or better yet; relationship.

Into Oregon

2009-08-09T12:39:00.000-07:00

We had a bit of trouble leaving Etna. Ther isn't a large commuter pool in a town of 700, but we were finally saved by the Mayor of Etna himself. He was just on his way up to the summit to get away from all the stresses of civil administration, and after a very winding and steep twelve mile drive we were back on the trail in the heat of the afternoon.

Wild Child and I quickly left Atlas behind. He hikes at a slower pace do to his unique walking stick. A gymnast in real life, he ducked taped two four foot sticks of rebar to keep his arms in shape, but the stick must weigh 15 lbs. The two of us pulled up at a lake about 12 miles along. We made dinner and then Atlas caught us in time to go for a swim before bed. It’s always nice to go for a dip before crawling into your sleeping bag.

The next day we passed a number of people on horseback with pack mules. They’re always interesting to see but the animals take a toll on the trail. One man, by the name of Bronze, had a pack mule and was using only equipment available to backcountry travelers in the 1800s. He had wool blanket bedding, buckskin trousers, wooden framed stock saddle, and only moccasins to protect his feet from the trail. He said it is a trough way to travel as anyone could imagine but he was enjoying the experience and he was only going from the Oregon border to Big Bear.

The following day was spent losing a lot of altitude and a gaining a lot of heat. It was a long decent down to the Klamath River just a bit over 1000 ft and well over 100 degrees. There was a long road walk to the store and the post office once the trail came to the bottom of the valley. I passed a few old country houses with barn and garden out front. The property around one such house retained a strong and interesting fragrance about their vegetable garden that seems to be very prevalent in some of the rural mountain communities the trail passes through. Along the highway there were countless black berry bushes growing into the lanes and other hikers reported seeing a black bear enjoying them right from the road. I didn’t see any bears but I did see the largest four point buck I’d ever seen on the walk into town.

Beautiful Mt. Shasta

The town of Seiad Valley consists of only a few houses and a café, small store, and post office all in the same building. Seiad is home to the famed pancake challenge. I knew I had made the right decision not to partake when I saw Atlas attempt the feat. It is five one pound pancakes, and most thru-hikers can barely eat half the stack. It was terribly hot and we all took refuge from the heat at the RV park next door that let us use their showers and sit inside their office with our ice-cream from the store. We decided to not start the 5000 ft climb out of the valley until 7pm. Unfortunately it was still almost 100 degrees when we left but as we gained in altitude we reached a light breeze and conditions quickly became manageable at the very least. I had left Seiad with Too Obtuse and Buck Thirty. We had a good time giving each other a hard time about just about everything. Obtuse is a veteran of the AT from New Hampshire and had hiked the PCT in 04 with $1.30. I quickly became familiar with personalities of the 04 hike from the many stories they reminisced over. $1.30 grew up in Rochester but was now living Pacific Beach just a few minutes’ drive from where I had been living in Ocean beach. We spent hours talking of all the places we missed around San Diego and, I think, drove Obtuse to a desperate boredom of our conversation. It was a relatively short hike into Ashland from there. The second day out of Seiad we finally left the confines of the great state of California. The trail had stretched and meandered for almost 1700 miles in this, the first state on the trip and the cross into Oregon was a great relief, making us feel as if we could very well make it into Canada after all. Our high spirits were quickly tested however, as a violent thunder and lightning storm welcomed us to Oregon on our first night in the state. Just as we had made camp and climbed in our tents it began to rain. The thunder grew louder and louder and at a point there were lightning flashes every few seconds. The rain turned to hail that quickly grew to the size of marbles. Luckily the tent held its ground and I stayed warm and dry, but I didn’t sleep particularly well.

Headed toward Oregon and then on to Washington.

Nick and Too Obtuse

It was a pleasant and uneventful trek into Ashland. We were fortunate to get a hitch right away. Thomas picked us up in his Toyota pickup and was more than helpful with explaining the layout of his fine town. He was a free spirit in transition, moving from the large metropolises of downtown Ashland a few miles away to the house he had just completed in the hills surrounding the town. Ashland did feel like a larger city after the last two town stops could not muster more than 1000 residence in the both of them combined. We ate lots of food and watched Blazing Saddles on cable in the motel. At the library we met Chuck Norris and Tigger, two PCT hikers that were taking turns hiking the trail this year and giving rides and help to other hikers in town. We got a ride to the trailhead from them the following day. Every hikers they meet signs their van, so we all made our mark and then made our way up the trail.

I was anxious to make miles, because my parents would be meeting me at Crater Lake so the family could go to a wedding in Salem. Dad had been able to make the drive all the way to Lone Pine for a short visit but the fam had not been together for a long time and I had been missing my mom and sister quite a bit, plus weddings are always good for some tasty chow and dancing. The day we left Ashland we pushed it to Hyatt Lake 25 miles away and took advantage of good camping and showers before turning in. The next day we were up early and I put in the longest day yet. Trying to get in as early as possible in the day that I was meeting mom and dad, I put in 35 miles. The plan was to make another 35 the following day but I was ready to shut things down after 30 which left 15 to Crater Lake the following day. I made it to Crater a little after noon and met the folks. It was so nice to see them and after getting cleaned up and a bite to eat we headed for the wedding. It was nice to see Andrea, my sister up from Mexico to fulfill her duties as Maid of Honor. It was weird putting on some nice slacks and a clean shirt for the wedding. I even shaved my dirty facial hair off to complete the look of a normal person who might live in an actual house or have a job.

Hanging Out at the Wedding.

I had a lot of fun at the wedding and driving around Oregon with the family. I’m excited to keep hiking now that I’m on through to the second state in the trip. I know I still have about 900 mile left but it really feels like I’m getting close. I’ve had a couple days off so I’m curious to see who will be hiking around me this time and if I can catch up to my friends. I’ll be so excited to continue some high mileage and get into the home state. Hopefully the weather will hold for us and we won’t hit too much rain. The towns start getting a little more spread out from here. Just a few more stops till WA and then there are only five more resupply stops till Manning Park BC. The end is slowly approaching, but its just a reminder to enjoy what I have while I have it. I’m still eager to see what each day will bring with each challenge and blessing.

Dropping Nick back off at Crater Lake

Crater Lake

Etna, the Mecca of Culture and Thought

2009-07-27T23:26:00.000-07:00

It was suggested in the last post that my next stop was to be Seiad Valley. It wasn't. I'll be honest. The hike into Dunsmuir, with its solitude, poor trail maintenance, and clear cuts, left me feeling a little down. Fortunately, this section proved to be a moral buster. After hearing from a few southbounders and hiking with two new friends, I decided to follow them into Etna for a one-night layover. It was a wonderful decision.

I left Dunsmuir in the middle of a hot afternoon, and I was feeling a little down, as I have said. I even read the letter my friend Mike gave me at the beginning of the trip that I was not to read unless seriously considering quiting the trail or feeling terribly lonely. It was funny and encouraging and got me going again. Thanks Mike. I still have it in case I should have another bad day. As I got moving again I passed under the impressive Castle Crags. These enormous pillars of granite stretch almost completely vertical into the sky and are very reminiscent of the Sierra country. The next few days to Etna would contain more Sierra-like granite, minus about 4000 ft of it.

It was uncertain that moral would improve right away, because shortly after leaving town I encountered my first black bear. It was so small however, that I thought it to be a black German Shepard at first glance. I easily scared it away with some aggressive shouting and after waiting a few moments to let it create distance between itself and the trail, I continued on. To make matters worse, I encountered yet another rattlesnake before making camp. This being about the sixth encounter I am getting better at controlling my fear and heart rate. I made camp near a small stream and was joined shortly thereafter by another thru-hiker. Fox Trot was probably in his early thirties and is a commercial fisherman in the winter. Having ample time for hiking, he has amassed over 30,000 miles of trail over the last fifteen-some-odd years on every trail you can think of.

I hike alone the entire next day. It was almost thirty miles exactly when I came to Highway 3 at Scott's Summit. Upon arrival, I noticed a small handwritten note on the trail head to make my way 1/2 mile down the highway to Camp Independence for some refreshments. I figured it was a YMCA camp or something of the like, but it was just a dad and his son enjoying their own little getaway property in the mountains. I made it just in time to catch dinner. The dad's name was Cub and he told me to hit the barbecue for some chicken and Chet, his son, brought me over a beer. They said I could role my sleeping bag out where I'd like and I was welcome to whatever I wanted. Still pretty full of three BBQ chicken breasts, I managed to have a few peanut butter cookies too. We then move the cooler over near the fire pit and continued talking fireside. Cub had hiked the trail back in '78. He graduated high school a year early because he wanted to go hiking so bad. Back then it was mostly logging and forest service roads but he made it the whole way in just over six months. His memory of every detail of the trip impressed me after so many years. He really got me excited about making it all the way to Canada again. Cub and Chet were so generous. They woke up with me the next morning and cooked breakfast and gave me a ride back to the trail. My luck was perfect because they were only there for that night and it turned out to be some of the best trail magic of the trip.

I eventually made some more friends with some hikers I could actually keep up with the following day. At lunch by a nice spring, Ice Ax and Heaps came hiking by. Ice Ax is forty and finishing the hike after one failed attempted 18 years ago. He hikes a brisk pace, but if you get winded you need not worry about an awkward silence, because one will never come. He is never at a loss for things to keep the conversation rolling. Heaps is about 22 and came to the trail from Sidney, though he was born and raised in New Zealand. We had a lot of fun chatting down the trail that afternoon. It was nice to talk with new personalities and make new friends. We all camped at different miles for the night but regrouped in the morning for the hike to the highway, and boy was it a great morning.

The fourteen miles we hiked to the highway was filled with interesting people. It started out simply enough with a couple of over-nighters but quickly got interesting. Coming around one corner, we are all surprised to see a number of goats in the trail. Scanning the area we find a woman who could have been Mother Nature herself standing among the trees. She greets us and the questions begin. Soon her friend hikes up to the trail from below where more goats were grazing. He had a wide brimmed hat on and some high water trousers held up by suspenders well clear of his sandals. They told us that they had just hit the trail a few days ago. They lived completely off the land and their goats. They had 18 goats all together and would get as much as 4 gallons of milk a day. They offered us some milk and it was quite taste. They said they also make cheese and yogurt and always have more than enough to eat. They told us they even slaughtered one disagreeable goat when some friends of their's came out to visit. They said that they would stay out until the weather turned cold. Then it would be back to the abandoned hippy commune for the winter. As he put it, they live completely off the grid and they seemed to like it that way. The three of us were quite impressed with their lifestyle. It was so simple and organic; just natural. We ended up talking with them for just shy of an hour, but town was calling.

The next group we met was about 6 guys, all over sixty. They said they had been hiking in the summer together for 40 years. They were super nice and we all agreed how wonderful the hiking community and lifestyle was. There was quite an aroma about the group. I'm sure they had just been enhancing their hiking experience before we met them. You could tell they were familiar with the Haight/ Ashbury scene and wished it were still around. Again, it was unfortunate, but we eventually had to moved on.

It was a tough hitch into town. The third car we saw picked us up but that took over an hour. When we got into town we found ourselves at the local drugstore which had an old fashion soda fountain and ice-cream bar. We all had milkshakes and then went to the cafe for lunch. We heard about this school that hosts hikers for free so we made our way over. There were some hikers already there that gave us the rundown of the place. The school is a sort of alternative college that focuses on intercultural studies and humanitarian projects. There are a number of students from South Korea, Germany, Brazil and the US. After grabbing dinner we came back to the school because Tim, the German student, was leading a discussion on patriotism for his peers. We were welcomed into the discussion and what a blessing it was.

Boy was it refreshing to exercise the brain instead of the body. It was such a wonderful platform as well. The opinions encompassed a wide scope and it was beautiful to learn how each felt about his or her country. The conversation was, understandably, clouded with semantics, as most were using their second language, but all managed to convey passionate ideas about boarders, government, and environment. Tim mediated the conversation beautifully, always ready with another question or example when silence approached. The discussion continued well after its formal conclusion. I began to think about the ironies of my own trip. The two boarders I would be crossing greatly differ. One is a fifteen foot fence with barbed wire and armed guards. The other is a row of trees that have been cut down without so much as a single customs agent. It was interesting to think of all the many complications reported by the news from around the world when this group of a dozen students from its every corner sat together in loving conversation with one another. Its almost as if the lines that were drawn in the sand so long ago have failed to serve their purpose. I'm not even sure what that purpose was. To the couple we met that herds goats in the mountains, these lines that, in most cases, exist only on paper maps are senseless markings by a child with a crayon. They have no bearing on the way one lives when herding goats. They need nothing from a government or union or state. They have no income so they are nothing to the government, but the government can't provide them with land or goats or each other, so the government is nothing to them.

Don't be too worried about me though. I have plenty to keep me tied to a mainstream American lifestyle. I'll be to Seiad Valley in a couple of days and then Ashland shortly after. I'm so thankful for my unplanned stop in Etna. I'll never forget the people I've met today. They've certainly given me plenty to think about on the trail for the coming miles. Its nice to know where I'm hiking from day to day and now I have to figure it out for the coming years. I'm sad to say that I may lack the courage to be a wondering mountain goat herder but "off the grid" does sound like a very interesting place.

Hop Skip and a Jump

2009-07-23T13:39:00.000-07:00

I left Burney Falls early Monday morning. Skivvies and I had a great time together. The day before we were able to chat about a lot of things, driving hikers here and there. Then, when everyone was where they wanted to go we headed for the falls not too far from Homeschool's house. Its a beautifully unique waterfall. Like any water fall, the stream billows over the edge, falling over a hundred feet to the pool below. What makes it truely unique is that water flows directly out of the cliff wall from underground aquifers, and the stream doubles in size as it leaves the pool. Skivvies and I decided we had to jump in for a dip. Well, I jumped in, but Skivvies, after his accident jumping into Tahoe, decided it would be safer to just wade into the cold water. Because the water comes straight out of the ground it hasn't had a chance to be warmed by the sun and its about 45 degrees; quite refreshing. We weren't able to stay in and swim very long, but the warm day quickly heated our chilled bodies as soon as we were out. Skivvies was uncertain what the rest of the summer would hold for him but things seem to work out for Team Sweetwater. Hopefully I'll see him again soon after the hike.

The trail from Burney to Dunsmuir was hot. It was a hundred degrees all three days, but there were enough stream crossings to cool off. Luckily it was shaded by thick forests most of the way. I passed but one southbound hiker during the three days. I'm sure my friends are just ahead, but thats how it works out sometimes. You could be no more than a mile away from another hiker but if you never catch him it feels like your the only one on the whole trail. I passed a couple of fly fisherman. That seemed like a wonderful weekend trip; find a good spot and wait for the fish to come to you. There was also a large family that had made the short day-hike up the Squaw Valley trail for a nice refreshing swim. By one of the creeks I found a pair of expensive smartwool socks that I have been packing, hoping to find the owner. So far I've not had any luck with that.

Getting on top of the ridges in this section give quite amazing views of Mnt. Shasta. Its amazingly impressive. John Muir wrote once that his first sight of Shasta made his blood turn into wine. Although, I did not become intoxicated at its sight, it was quite a sight to behold. It must be five or six thousand feet taller than any other mountain around and its volcanic origins give it quite a different character than the granite peeks of the Sierra. I'm sure we'll be seeing its peek well into Oregon as it dominates the landscape.

I made it into town late last evening. I had missed the postal hours so I set about the town in search of pizza. At the local pizzaria I met a section hiker, Bigfoot, who was staying in town. We hung out for a bit and then it was off to the motel to shower and down my extra large BBQ chicken pizza. I figured it would be for breakfast too, but when it was completely devoured before bedtime I ran over to the grocery store to buy some cereal for in the morning. Since I was already there I also baught and ate a half gallon of ice cream to boot. Sometimes the hiker hunger takes over in town and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

Thismorning I slep in and got my box at the post office. My parents have been wonderful to send a parcel to almost all of my town stops. Sometimes these little mountain towns can get a little pricey. I also recieve a wonderful box from our friend, Sharon. We were hoping to meet up on her drive up north to Washington but she was kind enough to leave me a treat even though it didn't work out. Between that and the box from Mom and Dad I will be eating quite well on this next leg. I sorted things in my room before checkout then went about my other town duties. There was laundery, visit to the hardware store for fuel, and then to the library where I am now. I'll grab a bite to eat soon and hitch back to the trail this afternoon. It'll be hot but I'll hike till dark when its at least cooling a little bit. The next stop will be in Seiad Valley. I don't think its more than a PO, resturaunt, and small store all in the same building. Shortly after that, its a short leg to Ashland. California you've been quite a hike.

30s 30s 30s

2009-07-18T18:40:00.000-07:00

After an amazing 4th of July in Tahoe it was time to get serious about this hiking thing. Team Sweetwater, Homeschooler and Skivies, told me they would be taking a few days off in Burney and said it would be fun to hang out again. I foolishly agreed to see them in ten days. It is over 300 miles between Tahoe and Burney, and I would have the opportunity and motivation to acquaint myself with the then allusive 30 mile day. What a way to hike.

I was ushered to the trailhead by Tom and the boys amidst a flood of other vehicles fleeing Tahoe after the holiday. Hiking by 1 p.m. or so, I quickly came upon the Echo Lake general store and acquired my resupply box and started sorting. I had plenty of food but I had gotten rid of my stove during my time off. I had been making small fires to cook dinner to that point but the Desolation Wilderness prohibits any open flame in the park. I was about to by a box of Sterno when I met some section hikers that herd of my dilemma and quickly solved it with an extra alcohal stove they had been carrying. Trail magic never ceases to come through in a time of need. I broke out of the store at a brisk pace but only made it 12 or13 miles as it was already late in the day. The Desolation Wilderness is gorgeous. Hundreds of lakes and remarkably green forest, it draws quite a crowd and I passed a plethora of hikers before they began to thin in the evening. I made camp by a small lake and, having had dinner a couple hours earlier, quickly got into bed. The next day would be a landmark day in my trek.

The key to the thirty mile day, in my opinion, is in the first three hours of hiking. I would wake up fairly early, have breakfast, and then hike for ten or twelve miles straight before I'd take a break. Sometimes I would have as many as 14 or 15 miles in the bag by noon. Then in the afternoon when fatigue would sneak in there was plenty of time to take a few rests. Sometimes I would stop at at five or six to make dinner and then I would be free to hike till dark before making camp. The entire day needs to be utilized, but just like the body adapted to 20s it adapts to 30s also.

The day before I went into Sierra City I met a real high mileage hiker. Scott Williamson is somewhat of a trail legend. He had done the trail many times and has completed a successful yoyo as well. This year he is attempting to break the unsupported speed record of 70-some-odd days, and complete the entire trail in 65 days. When we met I was taking a break with some day hikers I had met. I recognized him as he approached from past years slide shows. Plus he is not easy to miss. Standing about 6'4'', wearing just some running shorts and his trail runners, caring a tiny pack the size any small child could take to school, he moves. Having heard of his hike already I said, "Good luck on the record Scott."

He said, "Whats your name hiker? Are you through hiking?" I told him my name and that I was and he said, "Enjoy your hike. Its a beautiful trail." The whole time he was moving down the trail and he was quickly out of sight. I knew we would not meet again. He must be averaging somewhere between 40 and 50 miles a day, but it was fun to at least meet someone that is such an icon on the trail and had done so much for promoting its conservation.

The following day I hiked into Sierra City through some campgrounds. The campers in the park must far out number the permanent residents of the small town. I had barely made it onto the "downtown" street when a woman called to me from a balcony over a small cafe. She said to come up through the door with the PCT logo on it and I made my way up. She and a friend had rented out this apartment for the week with the sole purpose of hosting thru-hikers. It seems I had caught them on the day they were due to check out but it was still early so I was able to get a shower and sort my resupply box before it was time to go. There were a bunch of hikers hanging out. Some were waiting at the mercy of the US postal service for their resupply boxes and some were just taking advantage of a couch to sit on when they had the chance. At the apartment was Spec' and Maggie, Lucky Larry, The Skipper, Super Dave, and Batman among others. I didn't know it at the time but I would be seeing a lot more of these folks in the days to come.

There was a few thousand feet to climb out of town but it was steep and went fast. Once on top, the 30s continued to the next stop which was Belden. Between it was a nice hike. Mellow grades and plenty of water around made for an easy go for a bit but then there was a long drop into river bed just before Burney. I wanted to make it to the water so I could make my dinner and breakfast in the morning. I must have miscalculated a bit because I thought I should have been there well before I arrived and I had to hike into the dark before I made it to the bridge and a couple of nice campsites on the shore. There was a little hiccup on the decent. I was hustling to beat the coming darkness when I heard the last thing I wanted to hear. The rattling tail of a rattlesnake is such a sharp and piercing warning it definitely accomplishes its objective. I thought my arms have slowly atrophied to near uselessness, but it seems they have a bit of strength left in them. Upon hearing the dreaded sound my feet immediately lifted from the ground and I vaulted myself forward beyond the snake with a desperate thrust of my trekking poles. Safely in camp I asked a hiker if I could share his spot till morning. His name was Christoph the Explorer and he fittingly looked the part. Clothes a little ragged, he wore a stylishly Victorian felt hat and had much of his tarps and blankets hanging from his pack down to his knees. He was a super nice guy, just doing some solo hiking on the the Tahoe Rim Trail and the PCT. I left him in camp in the morning and headed for Belden.

It was an over four thousand foot drop into the river's valley and the town resort of Belden. The decent was made more interesting by the growing sound of techno music coming from below. As I approached the resort I asked some campers where things were and where to go. I was interested to find that each person I talked to was European and each subscribed to a neo-hippy, kind of bohemian style of dress; very ragged and nick-nacky. There was a dance floor that was crowded with people, jumping and moving to the beat. I came to find out that the resort hosts a number of raves throughout the summer weekends. It was quite entertaining to watch.

I made my way through the wild party and down the road a mile to the local trail angel's, the Braatens. They were not home when I arrived but the note said to come on in and be at home. It was a lot of fun to stay there. They were quite sweet and many hikers arrived. We had a good time and after breakfast the next day, I made the 4000 ft climb out of town. The next stop was mountain resort Drakesbad. We were about 14 miles away when we camped but having heard about a wonderful breakfast buffet, I decided to awake early and try to arrive before 10am. Up at 4:30, trekking as fast as I could, I arrived on property at 9:30 only to hear that breakfast ends at 8:30. I quickly was consoled by the fact that they would do my laundry for free and I could wait for lunch by their hot spring fed pool and have a shower. Maggie and Spec' caught me there and we enjoyed a few hours of relaxing through the mid-day heat.

Leaving the resort the trail follows a series of creeks. Water was not a problem but the mosquito's that live in it was. They were awful. Swarms harassed me for hours. They would land on my arms in such numbers that a single slap would kill four or five. When I sped up to leave them behind, many rode on my pack and waited for my pace to slow. I would agitate my pack by shaking it or hitting it with my trekking poles only to see swarms rise over each shoulder. They bit through my shirt and pants. They would land on my head and crawl through my hair to bite my scalp. I had bites all over my arms and legs and finally found relief when the trail left the creeks. I need to get some more bug spray.

I made it into Old Station the next day. I took the afternoon off because I had heard from Skivvies that he had hurt his foot so there is no rush to get to Burney anymore, and I was also tired. Even with the stops I had mentioned, I was still hiking 25 to 32 miles a day, and Old Station is home to a renown trail angel, Firefly. She is a sweet old lady and her and her husband Denny run their place, the Hideaway. Lucky Larry, Batman and I took up spots in their tree house while others took some of the tents. We had dinner and everyone pitched in to help. There was electricity in the tree house so we watched a couple of movies, The African Queen and 2001 Space Odyssey. It was fun to relax and in the morning it took us a while to get going, helping with dishes and waiting for rides to the trail. We got going so late, in fact, that I decided to take the road into Burney instead of the trail so I could make it to the post office before it closed the next day.

The road walk up the 89 was actually quite beautiful. It was mostly a series of old ranch houses and large spreads with cattle grazing and Mnt. Shasta in the background. I made it in close to Burney by nightfall and called Skivvies who came to pick me up. It was great to see my friends again, although I was sad the injuries had taken them off trail I was glad to be able to catch them. The night I got in a family friend of Homeschool had us over for dinner. There was great conversation. The family was delightful. Les, the father, who had come with Skivvies and picked me up, told us of a town BBQ that we checked out the following day. It was a lot fun and the food was excellent. We spent the afternoon giving rides to some other hikers that were passing through town. We'll plan to go to church in the morning and then its back to the trail for me. I'm not sure when I'll see Team Sweetwater again. Its unfortunate that they are no longer hiking. They have become wonderful friends.

My next resupply is in Dunsmire and then its really not to far to Oregon. I can't wait. We just recently passed the half way point, but will feel so close when I'm able to cross the Oregon boarder out of California. It will be nice to be back in the NW, closer to family and in more familiar mountains. The trail is getting long and I'm looking forward to completing it but I know I still have a long way to go.

Hello Tahoe, You Big Beautiful Blue Lake!

2009-07-05T00:11:00.000-07:00

After a little time off it was high time to get back to the trail. I loved seeing friends, celebrating a marriage, eating massive quantities of food, and getting a taste of the beach, but Canada beckons. Somehow you do grow to miss the long days and trying miles. After a while its even somewhat comfortable.

Tuesday night Kristin and I left San Diego to pick up friends in Longbeach that would accompany her all the way back to Seattle. We drove through the night playing games and singing along with the radio, arriving at Sanora Pass around 6a.m. in the morning. Sleepless and tired, I bid my friends farewell and hit the trail. The day became littered with sporadic naps. Early in the day I met a happy thru-hiking couple, True and Birdnut. They were very nice and we lunched together later that day. During the afternoon, on an attempted five minute water break, I was awakened after an unknown amount of time by a backpacker that was trying to pass by. Pack still strapped to my shoulders, I had rolled into the middle of the trail, desperately trying to acquire a few more "zzzz". Even with the constant napping I still managed over twenty miles and broke for camp. A familiar face awaited the next day.

I woke up the next morning feeling rested and ready to meet the trail. Taking off I quickly caught up to True and Birdnut who had also caught up to, none other than, Ancient Brit himself. I just keep running into this guy. Lucky he was clothed for this, our fourth meeting. Hiking on, I eventually left Ancient Brit behind though I'm sure we'll cross paths again. The stretch from Sanora to Tahoe is beautiful. Up and down between 8 and 9000 ft, you still encounter a little snow, streams, and lakes as the trail curves in and out of the forest.

The third day out of Sanora was filled with the weekenders and day-hikers. The day before the 4th, it seemed everyone was hitting the mountains for a nice hike. I crossed over Carson Pass at highway 88, chit-chatting with many hikers along the way. I ran into two weekenders Bill and Keith that were hiking with Keith's two yellow labs and we got to chatting about the trail. They're good guys out of Reno and I pulled up a little early to camp with them at Shower Lake. It was fun to camp with new friends but we picked a place that couldn't possibly have any more mosquito's. We were forced inside our tents and continued the conversation with raised voices from tent to tent for a time.

Up the next morning early, I had 10 miles to highway 50. I was thinking I would cruise through after getting my box in Echo Lake but I remember my friend Skivies said to give him a call because they would be in the area. I got a hold of him at the highway and he said to hitch into South Lake Tahoe because they met some friends of friends and I was welcome to come along. It turns out they ran into the parents of a friend of theirs from school, Tom and Shari Hochradel. We also found out the their son is good friends with Matt and Traci Wilson whom I know and adore from Point Loma. Anyways, long story short, we went out on Lake Tahoe for the day, cruised around and went for a swim. Then we went to their friend's gorgeous summerhouse overlooking the lake for a barbecue and then it was back out on the boat at night to watch the Fourth of July fireworks display. They are even letting us crash on the floor of their hotel room. Waking up that morning, I would have never believed I would have had such an eventful day or met such wonderful and generous people.

I regret to report that Hollywood, Skivies hiking partner, is no longer on the trail. A stress fracture in his knee sent him home for the rest of the summer but he is getting better. The other hiker I met is Homeschool, who is joining Skivies for the rest of their California hike. To refresh the memory, these are the boys from Cal Baptist University that are hiking to raise money to sink wells in India. If you want to check out more about their quest check out teamsweetwater.net. Its worth a least a few minutes of your time.

Well, I'll be getting back to the trail tomorrow. In about four days I'll be passing throug Sierra City and then Belden 4 more days after that. I doubt many of the hikers along the trail will believe the trail magic that I've come across. I'll certainly never forget my first trip to Tahoe. It was incredible, and remember, Keep Tahoe Blue!

Yosemite the cherry on top

2009-06-30T16:46:00.000-07:00

After a long and trying effort, I’ve managed to negotiate the famed Sierra Nevada Mountains. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have one of the most difficult sections of the trail completed, but it’s not without a little disappointment knowing that some of the most breathtaking views and scenery and some of the most beautiful people I’ve met are now behind me. Ahead lie lower elevations, dryer conditions and higher mileage days. If all goes to plan I should be approaching my Canadian goal at a more rapid pace from here on out.

Weeks ago I left the small city of Lone Pine for the second time to conquer Glen Pass. At over 12,000ft, it had already turned me back once, but with better weather conditions and a more able and equipped group to hike with I would not be denied again. It was after lunch by the time we managed a hitch to the trailhead, and after making my way over Kerserge Pass for the fourth time it was getting late so we camped just below 10,000ft at Charlotte Lake. Still plenty cold out, we built a fire. A campfire is always dependable for lifting the spirits of a weary hiker. Around the small flames sat Adam Jones, Dan and Anna Pizzo (DNA), UK Andy West, Jon Michelle, and myself. It is quite the inter-cultural group. Adam, leaving his hometown of Brokenbow, OK to join the trail, put his firefighting career on hold to hike for the summer. He, Anna, and I made up the half of the group that is homegrown. Dan of DNA grew up in Italy but then lived in England for a number of years before moving to the DC area where he met his wife Anna in her home state of Virginia. Dan worked for a while as the assistant director of Georgetown’s outdoor edu. program, and Anna has work in a local prison ministry for a few years. Next is UK Andy West. You guessed it. He’s from England. He studied botany in college so he became our foremost expert on foraging wild eatables along the trail. He also completed the Continental Divide Trail just last year through the Rocky Mountains. Finally, Jon Michelle, a retired Frenchman, with a mixture of a retro pack and fancy high-tech gear usually brought up the rear of our international hiking train. We made quite a team.

The next day we were up and over Glen Pass. Our turning around the first time proved to be a good decision as the terrain was quite steep. We all had our axes out and at the ready. Taking it slow and steady we made it down without incident. Only Andy had a slip but executed a perfect self-arrest with his pick. Of the next four days, each had its own high pass to accomplish before we would be in Vermilion Valley Resort. Next came Pinchot Pass, then Mather, Muir, and Selden. All were over 11,000 ft with the exception of Selden at 10,800. Most were pretty steep which turned out to be easier than we new at the time. You would hike to the base and break out the ax, then kick steps till you got to the top and make your way down. Pinchot was especially fun coming down, as there were wonderful opportunities to glissade down the snowy slopes. Muir Pass was the most difficult in my opinion. It was a very gradual slop up to the top, which translated into about three miles of snow travel on both sides of the pass.

The weather was also very difficult through this section. Everyday from Lone Pine to Tuolumne at some point in the day it would either rain or snow on us. At each pass’ summit there were storm clouds waiting for us but none as bad as the one that turned us back early on. When the sun did come out, however, every effort was rewarded. The pictures cannot do justice to the panoramas that could be seen from such heights. This is no doubt a very special area and I encourage everyone to hike it, but just wait till July.

The other difficulty was the water. After whining and complaining of a lack of water through the numerous desert miles, I would have never imagined that there could be too much. Right in the middle of the spring melt; water was flooding off the mountainsides. Streams were high. We appropriately renamed the trail John Muir Creek as it was under water almost as often as it was clear. At one point, creeks and lakes overflowing their banks, trout were swimming up and down the trail as we dredged through. Happily in my waterproof, full-grain leather boots, I couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable the others must be in their soaking wet trail runners. My boots are about two or three times heavier than their lightweight kicks but I did not envy the difference in weight in these conditions.

Rain, snow, sleet, and all we made it to VVR. There was a restaurant that was taken advantage of and small store. They also let the first eight hikers take a large canvas tent so we quickly found our spots in case others lingered in. It wasn’t a full days rest but sense we got into the resort early in the day we decided to hike on the next day. We took a boat ride over the lake back to the trail. There were a few more high passes over the next few days and we were in to Reds Meadows. This was bitter sweet. It was a nice stop but our group was splitting up. DNA, UK Andy, and Jon Michelle were catching the bus into Mammoth Lakes for resupply but Adam and I decided to hike on. He was hoping to make it to Tahoe to meet a friend and I was looking forward to Sonora Pass to get picked up to make it to a wedding.

Away from the group now, the pace of the hike changed. We were waking up a little later, hiking later into the evening, and making better mileage. The weather was changing for the better as well. We abandoned our tents under the starry skies. Deer wandered close to our camp at dusk and we moved into Yosemite National Park. In every direction there were granite dome peaks, beautiful alpine meadows, and fast moving rivers and waterfalls. Several times river crossings demanded that we carry our packs above our heads and wade through the frigid water.

I really enjoyed hiking with Adam. We had a lot of great conversation and laughs. Most of the time Adam, hiking at a much faster pace, would lead out and I would catch up later for a break or something. All along the way it was hard to get over the beauty of the national park. Tuolumne Meadows was incredible. Its no wonder we saw more and more hikers the closer we got to the valley. We made it to Sanora Pass a day and half early so I hitched into the central valley with some weekend campers and met up with Chase in Lodi. It was nice to get back to San Diego for a bit after that and see my friend get married. We had a lot of fun and I saw a lot of people, but I look forward to being back on the trail. I’ll be moving as fast as possible. I’d like to catch up to the group that I was hiking with before I took a break.

I’m getting back on the trail tomorrow morning. In a few days I’ll be stopping at Ecko Lake and then I’ll be on to Sierra City. Hopefully I can make some friends with some car campers on the 4^th and score a barbeque dinner or something. I feel like I’m over a major hurdle and can’t wait to see what the trail brings next.

2009-06-26T20:40:00.000-07:00

2009-06-26T20:29:00.000-07:00

2009-06-26T19:58:00.000-07:00

Forester on Down

2009-06-04T16:02:00.000-07:00

I apologize for the extended intermission. When I tried to post the last entry the computer decided to delete the second half. So here I am, back in Lone Pine, to fill in the missing pieces and add a few bits that have transpired since.

If you haven't figured by now, I did make my way safely down Forester Pass. There was a technical, icy shoot at the very top that required, again, the use of my trusty ice ax. Puffed with confidence and pride for conquering the tallest pass we immediately deflated as we gaze across the completely snow-covered north slope of the pass. Retrieving our heads we looked to our maps and safely navigate the descent. Raining and cold, we made camp a few thousand feet lower, near the creek we followed off the pass.

The next day was filled with excitement. Dad was coming to visit during our rest day in Lone Pine. I couldn't wait to get going, but it was cold. I couldn't resist using the last of my fuel to make a hot cup of oatmeal instead of eating it cold like I usually do. Daylight hit the trail ahead of me and I walked quickly to catch up. We're looking for a junction to take over Kersarge Pass toward Independence where Dad should be waiting at the trailhead. Following a creek, down, lower, and dropping in elevation we eventually realize we were off track. Not only that but we had turned a 2500 ft climb into a 4000 foot-er by loosing so much elevation. Oh well, its all part of the experience, right? We finally make it down to the trailhead were good-old-reliable Dad was there waiting. I was so glad to see him. You wouldn't believe how a trip like this makes you miss your loved ones.

He took Daylight, Vince, and I into Lone Pine for some R and R. It was really nice to just be with my Dad. I still had the usual town chores to accomplish, but they were a lot more fun with my Dad there. We had a really good pizza dinner with some other hikers. Then, the next morning, after breakfast, Dad took us back to the trailhead. It was a short visit, but it was just what I needed. We were hiking up the trail and Daylight commented on the great relationship I had with my dad. I had to let the two go ahead of me because I thought I might tear up. The two days after my folks have visited me on the trail, whether I'm hiking with someone or alone, are the loneliest days on the trail. I miss them a lot.

That day was also quite difficult because it was snowing lightly when we were dropped off and it continued throughout the day. It snowed harder and harder with every hour. By the time we made it to Glen Pass, the only thing we could see was a sheet of white. There was no way we would be able to continue. We had to turn back. Turning back is the worst. You work so hard for each mile, to give them up is very depressing. But it was the safe thing to do, so you can't feel too bad about it. We dropped down about 2000 ft and made camp. It was a very cold night. In the morning, Daylight pointed out that the temp was 25. Vincent headed out for town again, but Daylight and I, with a beautiful, albeit cold day, decided to try again. The approach proved to be too unsafe that day. Snow had drifted, and the shoots were as icy as they could be. We too headed back to Lone Pine.

I'll set out for a third try tomorrow with DNA and UK Andy. We all have either crampons or ice axes so we should be able to make it, although the forecast gives a chance of more snow on the way. I thought that the desert was going to be the trying portion of the trail. I couldn't wait to get to the beautiful Sierra Mountains. Although they are amazingly beautiful, it has proved to be far more challenging than the desert. I'm excited to hike with DNA again. They are awesome and I think it will be a good group heading out tomorrow. Wish us luck. Pray for sunshine and safe travel. Dad it was good to see you and Mom you are dearly missed.

Altitudies

2009-06-02T11:15:00.000-07:00

If you under-promise and over-produce disappointment has no hold to cling to. Anticipation and hype were all that surrounded my entering the Sierra Nevada Mountains, so there was apprehension that they might not live up to the the promises of beauty and scope of experience. One past thew-hiker even told me that no description, no matter how grandiose, could possibly do justice to the landscape I was set to enter, and you know what? He was absolutely right.

The day we left Kennedy Meadows we charged over ridge after ridge into a different meadow after meadow more grand and scenic than the previous. Crossing the South fork of the Kern River, your eyes follow it up stream to incredible distant mountains that beckon through cloud and mist. Gaining altitude increases the expanse of the view and shrinks your self-perspective. Feeling small and insignificant, the route seems daunting and impossible. 9000, 10000, 11000 ft and climbing, the vegetation changes and becomes more and more rugged. Trees seem to grow from solid stone, splitting or simply growing around rock and boulder. Ice cold alpine lakes and tarns, melted only days earlier, feed streams that trickle down to inviting meadows. Forests give way to snow capped peaks and steep icy spires. But the high altitudes that produce such beauty also produce new challenges.

Altitude creates very volatile weather conditions. As systems move eastward, wind currents and moisture must also navigate the lofty barracade. The sun's rays are quite powerful at such heights but are stifled drastically by the slightest cloud cover or shade. Temperatures fluctuate a great deal and layers are put on and torn off by the half hour. Days in we are hiking past Chicken Spring Lake. Late in the month of May, only a week earlier we craved a cool breeze, but now we search for our gloves and warm beanies. Then over 11000 ft it began to snow. Lightly at first, then increasing in volume. Nearly but not quite freezing, the flakes were very big and wet, saturating the air. We were soaked. Even with our rain gear the soggy cold clings as you drag it down the trail. Luckily, as quickly as it begin, it quickly ends and the sun and the views return.

The next two days would prove to be the toughest days of hiking so far. I guess I didn't think about it too much before hand and maybe that was best. The plan was to leave Crabtree Meadow and hike Mnt. Whitney, the highest peak in the lower 48 at just under 14500 ft, followed the next day by the highest pass, Forester Pass, the highest pass on trail at just over 13000 ft. So I leave the meadow and a couple hours in I catch up to Stinky Butt on his way up the mountain around Guitar Lake, 12000 ft. We are both glad to now have a buddy on this little side trip. There are a few snow shoots gliding down over the trail. Some I used my ice ax to cross and some we scrambled around through the rocks. It was a long climb over 4000 ft to the top but we made it. At the top we take cover from the light snow that was falling and cold wind in the old Smithsonian observatory that is still there from the late 1930s. On the way down the light snow turned to a full on snow storm. It was coming down and coming down heavy. The trail was quickly obscured, but I knew if I couldn't find the trail I could follow the water which drained back down to crabtree meadow. Back down below 11000 ft the snow turned to rain, and back on trail I had to catch up to Burning Daylight who only moved up the trail about 5 miles while I did my side trip.

Soaked to the bone and cold I hike quickly to generate some heat. The rain lets up for a time and I get to Wallace Creek, about 5 miles from our last camp. Ron should be here. He wasn't. The next creek is only a mile more so I hike on. At this creek I find a small soaking note in the trail from Ron with his location. "Go to Tyndall Creek and cross." Angry that he is farther than we discuss and completely exhausted from the agressive hike already accomplished, I locate Tyndall on the map. I become down right furious when I discover it to be over four miles away. At this point the rain decides to continue for my inconvenience. Not wanting him to think I was in trouble or something I hike to meet him. Disgruntled and cranky I struggle up to Big Horn Plattue. My bad mood is immediately lifted when the skies clear on top of the plattue to reveal one of the best views yet of the Southern Sierra. A small fox runs across the melting snow field to far away for a picture. The sun splitting the clouds with rays of yellow as it lowers toward the sharpened snowy peaks. I made it to camp not knowing that those same sharp snowy peaks were the same peaks I'd be crossing the next day.

After such a day, the next morning was a late start, not leaving camp until almost eight. We made a small fire to try and dry out some of our socks and the rest of our packs. Approaching Forester Pass, the snow was quickly warming and we would sink through the snow's crust on ocation. There was plenty of snow covering the step switchbacks so, ice axe in had we kicked steps straight up to the last thousand feet. This part of the trail was a foot and a half ledge carved right into the granite face. Peeking over the side revealed a breathtaking thousand foot fall or so.

Down in the Desert

2009-05-27T22:32:00.000-07:00

Here's the snail-mailed blog that Nick mentioned in his last one. Enjoy!-KW

So last you heard I was enjoying the comforts of Hiker Heaven at the Saufely's in Agua Dulce. It was hard to pull myself away from such comfort knowing there were numerous desert miles ahead. I'm no fan of the desert, but it has become, to me, as a right of passage before entering the High Sierra. So far, it's proven to be a challenge.

We shoulder our packs, heavy with a full supply of food and water. It's 25 miles to Green Valley and the Andersons, another known trail angel stop. The Andersons proved to be a clutch player over the next couple of days, for they maintain 3 water caches along the dry miles to the north and south of them. One of which, the Oasis Cache, was quite a treat. Along with water they had lawn chairs, gatorades, and cold beer waiting for weary hikers. The Andersons were great. We slept in their hammocks and enjoyed taco salad for dinner and pancakes before we left in the morning. It was quite different from the Saufley's, where there was a system and everything had its place. The Anderson's was "wherever you want, anything goes." Their place, or Casa de Luna, got its name, we found, because Terrie mooned us while her husband took our picture before we left. All in all, a memorable stay.

Next stop was Hikertown on the 138, 40 miles away. We camped 16 miles in because it was more than a mile off trail to water at a remote campground. The problem came the next day when Ron and I missed a turn back to the trail. After a 4 mile round trip detour we were back on track, but our costly mistake turned a 24 mile day into 28, and 2 extra hours in the hot sun. We made it anyways and got a shower and a place to stay at Hikertown.

Richard Skaggs is a Hollywood guy working for Warner Bros. that built some western themed sets on his property so hikers could take a rest. We rested the next day with the same folk that were at the Anderson's. Me and Ron, Dan and Anna, Chase, Kirt, Monarch Lady, Mr. Chips, Get Out, and Stinky Butt. We decided to avoid the heat and leave at 6pm that evening. The trail follows the L.A. aqueduct so it would be easy to stay on course. We made it 16 miles to Cottonwood Creek bridge at 1:30am and went to sleep. Waking up at 5:30am, we started looking for the water that we were informed was there. The creek was dry, but the guide book said we could access the aqueduct water anyway. We couldn't...everything was locked up. Luckily, Ron still had a bit of water and there was a small cache. One liter would have to last another 7 miles.

It was somewhat overcast so we decided to push on to Mojave. Not realizing it at that point, we would be moving 40 miles in one 24 hour period. After topping off our bottles at Tylerhorse Creek, we started a terribly grueling section of steep climbs on loose sand. The heat and terrain were unbearable, but we made it to the highway and after a 2 hour wait were able to get a hitch into Mojave for rest and resupply. We saw Stinky Butt just before the highway along with Dan and Anna (DNA). Then, in town, Monarch Lady, Kirt, and Chase all caught up. We all agreed the trek in was a miserable section.

The next stop is Kennedy Meadows Gateway to the Sierra. It'll be a 7 day, 140 miles section. It'll still be dry the first 2 days but will get a little easier after that. The next time you hear from me, I'll be hiking in what some say is the most beautiful area in the country. I can't wait. Goodbye desert, hello alpine wonderland.

2009-05-26T17:06:00.000-07:00

A lot can happen in a week. One week ago I was in Mojave sorting through my resupply box and resting from a tough hike in. A week ago I was still in the desert. A week ago I wasn't in the Sierra, but now I am.

Ron, Burning Daylight, and I left Mojave last Wednesday on a 25 mile waterless stretch. There was excitement only 2 miles in when I had my first close encounter with a western diamondback rattlesnake. Without so much of a tick of its tail to warn me of its presence, I walk up within three feet of it before noticing its proximity. Taking flight, I'm surprised how high I can jump with so heavy a pack. As I touch down my terror manifests itself in a string of curses at the sneaky serpent. As Ron caught up, I apologized for my eccentric behavior, but he only thanked me for a more-than-sufficient warning of the upcoming danger. We threw some rocks close to it so it would coil for a good picture and then moved on.

It was a tough waterless hike, but we made it to Golden Oaks spring where we camped with Dan and Anna, or DNA, whom we had met at the Anderson's place. We hiked with them the next day, but then moved ahead when they went into Onyx for resupply. Up above the desert now, we made it into some nice pine forest for a while, but once again we dropped into the hot, hot Kelso valley. This section is only possible because of a couple of key water caches maintained by a local trail-loving couple. Otherwise it would be a long, scorching 35 miles of dry desert trail. The next couple of days were spent gaining altitude with the goal of Kennedy Meadows just after mile 700 and the decided gateway to the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

On our way, the trail merges with a quite popular off-roading jeep road. It leads to McIver Spring and a small abandoned cabin. When we arrived at the spring we were greeted by some off-roaders and who gave us some ice cold bottles of water, but the real trail magic happened when Rudy and the gang showed up. We were washing our clothes and getting our packs ready to go and about half a dozen dune buggy type rigs show up with a couple of dirt bikes. They had the whole family with them. It was mom and dad, big kids, little kids, grandma and grandpa and the dogs. Anyways, one of the kids starts chatting me up about the hike and dad was close behind. When he asked what was the toughest part of the hike, Burning Daylight seized the opportunity to point out how there are no cold beers along the trail. Then the dad says what every hiker on a hot trail longs to hear, "If you follow me over to the rig I got a cold beer for you."

"Well, okay," I say. That's all I needed to hear. We went over and as he reaches into the cooler I could hear the ice and water sloshing around. His hand comes up holding a cold 12 once can of Coors, a beautiful and serene sight, but this was no time to go back for the camera. As Rudy hands it to me, he jokes with his wife about the smile on my face then says, "Bet you don't keep those in your pack." I didn't answer. I had already crack the can and placed it to my lips. Immediately the cooling sensation of the cold beverage treats my body against the midday heat. Just another good "yogi" for Daylight and I. (A yogi is anytime you can aquire a luxury from someone else on trail. Named after a famous hiker, Yogi, that is particully gifted in this field).

This next day's events hastened our efforts toward Kennedy Meadows. On a high saddle overlooking the small city of Ridgecrest to the east, I notice that I had a faint cell signal and checked my messages. There was one from my friend Julie Johnson that said that she, Jaime and Liz had spent the weekend in Yosemite and would like to see me on their way back to San Diego. I spend the next couple of hours trying to get into position for a cell signal strong enough to get a hold of them. Finally we share a scratchy phone conversation and plan to meet the following day in Kennedy. The problem was that was tomorrow and that morning we started 55 miles away from the goal. That day had three tough climbs but we managed 28miles and 27 the next day to get in by 5:30 quite astonishingly enough. We even found time to jump into the South fork of the Kern River. Boy, were we tired, but I was excited to see my friends. The next few hours were spent enduring a number of jokes and verbal jabs due to the prospect of having three girls come to visit me on the trail. The ladies are quite a rare breed in this neck of the woods. Soon enough we thought the girls decided not to come, but around ten a lone car cruises the road and I go out to great them. I was excited and touched that they had come all this way as it was quite a long drive at the end of their trip. I was then nervous to invite them to the fire I was sharing with about ten other male, female-starved hikers. I was afraid I was throwing them to the wolves, but after talking a big game, the guys said very little and we had a lovely fireside conversation to catch up. It was quite a treat.

The next day was spent getting ready for the next leg. There was showers to take, laundery to do, and food to buy and eat. Musa and Boone left after breakfast. I hadn't seen them since Idyllwild. Stinky Butt and Lenny decided to stay another day and leave with us the following morning. A young Texan named Taylor has been hanging out for a bit with Adam, a firefighter from Oklahoma. Just a few minutes ago DNA got in and UK Andy arrived earlier that afternoon. DNA, Ron and I were making plans to meet up down the line, because we enjoyed their company so much. Hopefully it works out. We are all hold up at Tom's place. He runs internet for hikers and lets us sleep in his camper trailors. We barbequed last night and probably will again tonight. He's been doing this for a few years now and opperates off of donations only. Its a lot of fun, and he's a really nice guy.

The plan is to be into Lone Pine Tuesday and then Tuoloume Meadows a week after that. I'm excited because my dad said he'd come down to visit. I can't wait and the next section should be beautiful, with snow and I'll be at the highest point of the trail. Wish me luck and look for another post soon that I snail mailed off before the holiday weekend. I hope everyone had a good memorial day weekend. If you didn't go for a hike last weekend go for one this time around. I love and miss you all.

I'm in Hiker Heaven

2009-05-13T16:15:00.000-07:00

When I set out from the beautiful high altitude forests in the San Gabriel mountains to drop into the hot, dry high desert country of the Mojave, I didn't think I would end up at the most beautiful place yet.

Leaving Wrightwood was tough. I had met Susan and Ray who were more than generous with accommodating me, and I had a lot fun with all the other hikers in town. Setting out and pulling away from the Old Ridge Runner, I quickly came across Burning Daylight, Ron, a retired cop from Marietta and Stinky Butt a 27 year old San Diegan. Ron's and my paces seemed to match nicely so we spent the next few days hiking into Agua Dulce together. A day in we were headed up Mnt. Baden Powell, a 9000 ft peak. I was told that on a clear day you can see all the way to Catalina Island, but the smog of the LA basin disappointed my hope of gazing out to the sea. There was a bit of snow on the way up, but it was soft enough to easily kick steps without much hazard.

Up and down for the next two days, Stinky Butt came and went from Ron and I, hiking quickly but stopping early. There was a bit of a road hike on acount of some rare frogs that had a section of the trail closed off. It felt like we logged a lot of miles because the highway is a little more direct than the trail can be. The next day we did log a bunch of miles, 27 in fact, on acount of our water sources being so spread out. But soon we would be to Agua Dulce for rest and relaxation at Hiker Heaven.

True story first: A mile or so from Agua Dulce, Ron and I came across a large congregation of trailors and trucks that we decide is a movie set in the Vasquez Rocks. We both know that movie sets tend to have huge spreads of food for cast and crew so we move in to investigate. No one questions us and we get in line and pick up plates. As we are dishing up, we chit chat with some crew member and he gives us the go-ahead. What a feast, stuffed trout, chicken breasts, bbq burgers, salad bar, fresh friut and cheese cake for dessert. I ate till I was sick and it was the slowest mile walk into Agua Dulce that day.

Agua Dulce is the hometown of Jeff and Donna Saufely. They run Hiker Heaven and are maybe the most famous trail angels along the way. Its obvious why. They give you a room in their trailor/ guest house and wash your clothes. Donna even set us up with their friend Bill that gave us a ride into the nearest REI for weight saving exchanges and can't-get-anywhere-else purchases. They are so sweet and seem to really enjoy having every hiker they can get. There are about seven of us here now, ORR, Chase, Atlas, Strider, the usual gang from the last couple of towns. There's also Burning Daylight, Kirt, Monarch Woman, and Stinky Butt. We're going out for pizza tonight and Monarch Woman wants to play cards later. Sometimes in peak season, they said they have as many as fifty hikers stay for the night.

It will be even tougher to leave HH tomorrow morning than it was to leave Wrightwood. I'm not excited for the week of hot, dry miles ahead, but the anticipation of beginning the high Sierra country is a strong motivation. Hopefully in less that two weeks I'll be in Kennedy Meadows and crossing freezing snow melt streams and racing up snowy, steep passes. In John Muir's The Mountains of California, he speaks of the region with religious intensity and romance. He says, "In every walk with nature, one recieves far more than what he seeks." Although, I don't know exaclty what I seek, I can't wait to recieve it. So far I have been blessed with health and wonderful people along the way, which is as much as I could ask for. Everything else is a bonus.

2009-05-12T21:42:00.000-07:00

1. Ron trailname: Burning Daylight
2. Big Bear Lake
3. Sunsets, yeah!
4. A much needed foot soak at Whitewater Creek.
5. I'm not sure exactly where this pic is from but I like it.

Pics, Pics, Pics

2009-05-12T21:24:00.000-07:00

1. Skivies, Atlas, and Hollywood in the Yoddler in Wrightwood, Ca. Skivies and Hollywood are from Cal Baptist University hiking to raise money for wells in India.
2. Lizard on a PCT marker. I really like this one.
3. Left to right: Chase, The Old Ridge Runner, and me leaving Big Bear at Van Dusen Road.
4. Mae dropping me off to start the hike up Mount San Jacinto from Idyllwild after the Kick-off weekend.
5. Left to right: Me, Mike, Jared, and Richard- trailname RCBIII. Friends come to visit during the kick-off weekend.

Big Bear to Mountain High

2009-05-12T20:42:00.000-07:00

I made it to Wrightwood after a lot of fun in Big Bear, though the hike to Mountain High had a few ups and downs. It started out great with a ride to the trailhead from George. There were beautiful views of Big Bear Lake, and RR, Chase, and I stayed pretty close together due to a couple of wrong turns by Chase and myself. Back on trail, things got a little depressing as we hiked through miles of wildfire burnt forests. Following Deep Creek's long canyon we moved past Mojave Dam the next day.

The following day proved to be the longest mileage yet. I had hiked about 23 miles, separating from Ridge Runner a bit. As I was considering making camp for the night, I met Skivies and Hollywood, two college Juniors from Cal Baptist who are hiking to raise money at churches along the trail for fresh water wells in India. Very cool. They asked if I wanted to continue another 6 miles to Highway 138 and a Best Western. Tempted by my new friends and the thought of a cheap hotel stay with showers and breakfast, I pressed on. Exhausted, I completed mile 29 around 7pm.

Two days later and almost 5,000 feet higher, I hitched into Wrightwood with a semi-trucker working on a paving operation on the highway. In town I was reunited with Chris, RR, and the Cal Baptist boys. There I met Susan at the library, who said that I could stay for free at her family's house, so I decided to stay another day and enjoy a day off with the wonderful people I had met.

I'll set out tomorrow morning with the next stop being Agua Dulce, which is a famous hiker hot spot and Trail Angle Location. There is some detour up ahead because of some rare frog or toad, so I might have to do some road walking. Anyways, I should be there by Wednesday where I will try and write again.

Oh, I almost forgot...days back I ran into Ancient Brit, an older English chap. We actually first met in Julian and were reunited close to Deep Creek's natural hot springs. Ancient Brit is a bit of a character; hiking only in a loin clothe thing, which I unfortunately discovered by catching up to him on a blustery day. He's quick to offer plenty of advice and proud to mention the injuries overcome to complete the trail twice before, both in 2002 and 2006. He was also quite fond of going "costumeless" at the hot springs. Just one of the wonderfully interesting people to meet on this trail. I'm quite pleased to be learning that the charm of the trail is not he scenery or wildlife, but the people that are met along the way.

Kick-off

2009-05-04T21:35:00.000-07:00

*Note: I think I am a little behind Nick on this one. To no surprise, snail mail proves to be much slower than Nick's pace. Enjoy!-KW

We headed South for the kick-off Thursday morning. Chris and Mae had to stop in Palm Springs to pick up a bike, and since it was their camper we were all riding in, there were no complaints. It was me, ORR, Chase (The Virginian), Jim, Strider, and of course, Chris (Fox Sparrow) and Mae.

Arriving at Lake Morena Campground we were quickly checked in and off to our designated campsites. To my surprise, little happened that night. Some southbounder had told me there would be wild excitement along with food and free beer. Unfortunately, that never panned out. I did get to see Mike Thursday night and again Saturday morning, along with Richard and Jared. It was awesome to see them. I have missed everyone like you wouldn't believe, so it was just wonderful to see some of my friends along the trail.

Other than that, the kick-off itself was pretty cool. There were vendors peddling their wares. There were presentations on hiking through the bear country, snow and water reports, and a gear contest. Most interesting of all were the people. As I have mentioned, the community of people surrounding this trail is a fascinating bunch and kick-off is like this family's Thanksgiving dinner. I met hikers I heard and read about, along with other veterans and first timers. There were trail angels making sure everyone knew where to find them on the trail. There is definitely the sense that everyone is taking care of you along the way.

Well, I'll be in Big Bear on Thursday where I'll probably stay around Friday to check the PO and take a shower. My clothes could use a good washing too.

Back on the Trail Again

2009-05-01T12:24:00.000-07:00

It was wonderful to have a couple of days to relax at the Idyllwild state park. It was even more fun to take a Winnebago trip to the PCT Kick-off in Lake Morena. But after so many days off, it was high time to get back on the trail and get some miles under my feet. Come Sunday morning I was anxious to get started. I had a steep climb back up Devil's Slide trail from Idyllwild to the high ridges of Mnt. San Jacinto. I had hit plenty of snow on the way into Idyllwild and the north slope of the mountain, Fuller Ridge, was rumored to be even more traitorous. It did not disappoint.

I hit the snow a little before noon with ice ax in hand and gators strapped up high. It was the perfect time to start across because the snow had just become soft enough to kick sturdy secure steps without sinking through to the thigh. As I continued over the white stuff, around the northeasterly mountain rim, the day warmed and the latter quickly became the norm. I soon labored with high steps and unstable footings. It made for a sluggish pace. To make things more interesting, the snowy path sometimes ceased under direct sunlight and far from the beaten trail I had to bushwhack up or down the slope to the trail. I barely escaped the snowy ridge before nightfall, and had only logged 14 miles for the whole day. It was tough but I enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment completing the almost technical section.

The next day, dropping some 8000 ft to the valley floor, I had completed the same mileage of the day before by just past noon. I caught up to Old Ridge Runner by then, who had walked a number of road miles with Chase the day before to skip the snowy section. Across the desert valley and 35 to 40 mph winds to I- 10, we eventually caught up to Chase and made camp near a giant wind farm. Sleeping in the midst of giant windmills there are the constant sounds of whistles and whines that can't help but conjure up thoughts of spirits and ghosts. Fortunately exhaustion prevails against any possible worry or concern, and sleep provides a convenient escape from both.

The next two days, like the last, were 20+ mile days leaving only a short 9 mile hike to Highway 18 on Thursday morning. The allure of town and corresponding amenities hastened my pace and I covered the morning mileage in only a couple hours hike. Hitching in with two welders on their way to a job, I quickly found a place to eat and then the Nature's Inn. Recommended to me by an ancient looking hiker Billy Goat, whom I had passed the day before, it opened its hiker room to me which I enjoyed all to myself for no other hikers passed through that day. That night I went to a local sports bar to enjoy game six of the Chicago/ Boston series, which turned out to be a doozy, and met a delightful couple George and Jenny Deisler. We enjoyed wonderful conversation through the second half and the three overtimes. They were so nice to let me in on important information about their small town and were personable and curious about my trip and background. They even gave me a ride back to the inn following the end of the game, which was well beyond the hours of the local transit system.

It has been very interesting to jump in and out of towns. How intriguing it has been to see such a stark opposition between the things I read in the newspaper and the people I encounter. Catching snippets of media, maybe once a week, its easy to see a collective disapproval of our society's direction, contempt for the people that "run" it, and a generally depressed attitude toward any sort of remedy effort. Yet on a personal level, I am continually blessed by the smallest of social interactions between complete strangers. Even today as I walked to the library, a young man named Ian stopped in his mustang, which could barely contain my large pack, and gave me a ride the rest of the way here. I wasn't hitching or anything. He just thought I could use a ride. I understand that failing economies, scandals, and outbreaks profoundly shape peoples lives, however they hold no bearing on how people should be treated. Its refreshing to see that on a daily basis removing these propagated stories can refresh a view and a love for the individual. Its unfortunate that so often in a more conventional daily life, bombarded by a very strong media presence, we can be so smothered by imaginary ideologies of politic or boarder and incomprehensible processes of market or virus that we sometimes miss out on the very tangible everyday encounter with another somebody. Face to face there are no markets, no boarders, no politics.

Quote: "Life is a prayer." George Deisler

2009-04-23T18:28:00.000-07:00

2009-04-23T18:19:00.000-07:00

Idyllwild and Precious Pines

2009-04-20T12:23:00.000-07:00

So far so good. The trail is living up to the hype. Freezing temperatures and scorching heat have made it uncomfortable at times. Winds have up-staked my tent a few times, crushing any hope of a full nights rest, and the fitigue is endless.

The first section was a good warm up. The desert offers all kinds of wildlife to interest you. Every manner of beetle, spider and ant try to infiltrate your tent and or attack your food. There are snakes of various size and color, which scare me the most. I've yet to see a rattlesnake, but I'm sure, in time, my worst nightmare will come true. There are plenty more desert miles to trek. The others are not so bad. Small lizards and horny toads quickly leave the trail as you approach. Fortunately, just when I had about had my fill of the creepy crawlies, I came across two small deer as i refilled with water at a small creek. They were gone out of site before I had a chance to retrieve my camera, but it was quite a boost in moral.

The last two days have been spent gaining altitude. Across the Pines to Palms highway, you immediately understand the name as you switchback in and out of tall ponderosa pines. Now I feel like I'm hiking. I peeked out at about 8400 ft on Apache Peek. I gained 3000 feet in just a few miles at one point. Then its all down hill to Saddle Junction and Devils Slide trail into Idyll wild. The problem was that it is all down hill over north facing slopes, which still had considerable snow in places. After having a slip and sliding for about fifteen, twenty feet or so, I decided to put away the trekking poles and go for the ice ax. From that point getting around was cake. If you loose a footing, the ax cuts deep into the snow and control is regained. The trouble now was where to go. There was no trail to follow, and few people were ahead of me and their tracks soon became untraceable. Keeping my heart rate in check by speaking inaudible self-praises of my navigational skill, I break out the map. Having a good idea of where I was and where I needed to go, I set out traversing the north slope I was on to the west. After not coming across any other footprints for a while, I headed up hill. I knew if I got to the ridge I could follow it to the saddle, where there would be another trail leading down toward Idyllwild. As I approached the ridge there were some crampon tracks, which merged with more tracks until I was safely to the saddle. Puffed with confidence of my navigational success my thoughts turned to food.

Town means food, good food. No roman noodles or macaroni or peanut butter on tortias, you can have a real meal. Idyllwild is very camper friendly. The state park offers $3 a night camping to those that hike in and many of the businesses give a PCT discount. At the state park I met some other hikers. There's Eric who is hiking the trail his 7th time in six years. That's because he did a yoyo a couple years ago which is down and back in one season. He's one of only two people to have accomplished it. He's quite the hiking legend. Its partly because of the yoyo and partly because he has been around for so long and has yet to adopt a trail name. He said that that is probably a greater accomplishment than the yoyo. I also met Sam and Stick (a trail name for having an nine foot walking stick) at the campground. Stick moved on this morning. I hope to see him in the next couple of days. Sam is heading off the trail. He said he got what he wanted out of his two weeks of hiking and is now headed to Europe. He's a nice guy. We had breakfast this morning (omelets) and found we had pretty similar trail experience so far. I wish him luck off the trail.

The people along the trail are amazing. My pack distinguishes me from the day hiker and they always ask how far, how long, and where I come from. People I've met for the first time want to take my picture and hear about my family and friends. Its very interesting and very delightful. A couple took my picture and offered to send it to my parents. Others have said how this is a dream of theirs and they admire me for doing it. I'm not sure how I feel about all that but it sure is nice to chit chat after not seeing anyone for a day or two.

I'll hike on for a couple more days, but I'm trying to meet Chris, who now goes by Fox Sparrow, around I-10 to go down to the PCT kick-off weekend in lake morena. I didn't have an interest in going but so many hikers have talked it up, I think I'll go check it out. If anyone wants to come out to lake morena for the weekend I'll keep my phone on. I'll try to post another blog from there. Oh, and a special thanks to Kristin Wightman for posting that last blog. I snail mailed her a letter and she has agreed to do that from time to time for me. And thanks to everyone in SD that sent a letter to me here in Idyllwild. It was a lot of fun to hear from you. My next stop will be Big Bear but that won't be until after the kick off.

I hope this post finds everyone happy and healthy. I love and miss you all.

100 miles in...

2009-04-19T16:36:00.000-07:00

I've been on the trail for a week and have made it to Warner Springs. So far the desert has been cold and wet. It rained on me the first, third, and fifth nights of the trail. This morning I woke up to trace amounts of snow on the ground and relentless wind. The trail definitely takes a toll on your body, but it's getting easier. I took a couple of days off in Julian to wait and see my parents and grandparents, which was nice...TV, a soft bed...it was luxury. It was great to see my folks.
So far the trail has been pretty exciting because it's so new and interesting. When they dropped me off yesterday, I hit the trail and didn't see anyone until morning. Knowing I wouldn't see my folks again until June or July made it kind of a lonely day. Overall, I have met some pretty cool people already on the trail. Day 1 it was the cousins: Nathan and Aaron. Day 2 it was Chris, a 63 year old gentleman who is also hiking the whole thing. Because of my days off, he should be in front of me and I hope to see him again. There's also R.P., Ipod, Hiker Bill, and others. The trail veterans really get into the trail name thing. So far I don't have one. I think I'll wait until someone names me, rather than assume one on my own.
Well, I'm more than 100 miles in now. I would think that would be an encouraging accomplishment, but it is also a crazy thought that I have to do it 25 more times! I'll just be happy when the wind dies down. My next stop will either be in Anza or Idyllwild, or maybe both. I hope there are more trees in the future. I'm not used to hiking in the desert.

2009-03-13T22:13:00.001-07:00

I've always loved being outside. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I was spoiled with beautiful combinations of tall mountains and blue bays, dark forests dotted with alpine lakes, and the charm of each season's unique personality. Living in San Diego for the past 6 years or so, I’ve enjoyed the beach scene and perfect weather, but I’ve never stopped missing the places and people where I grew up.
So, I graduated with a degree in Theology a couple of years ago. Ironically, for me, that particular degree came with thousands of dollars in student loans along with a distaste and apprehension for any sort of career. In any event, I thought I’d get away for a while before I made my next move. I needed something that would take a while. I’ve got considerable time to kill. Its not that I’m waiting for anything in particular, I just needed something to do in the meantime. I guess I wanted to do something unique, challenging and even a little frightening. After little deliberation I decided on a solo hike from Mexico to Canada through Americas western-most mountain ranges.
The Pacific Crest Trail is a 2600-mile trail that begins in the southern Californian deserts and the Mexican boarder. It winds through the Sierra and Cascade mountain ranges, ending in the evergreen forests of Washington at the Canadian boarder. It will take 5 months, a couple pairs of hiking boots, and a little determination and luck. It sounded perfect.
I’ve been preparing for the hike like anything else I’ve ended up doing. Not knowing quite how to go about accomplishing my goal, I’ve studied my objective insufficiently but enough to appease my excitement and keep interest high. Now that the trip is less than a month away, I delight in not knowing what may happen and grow nervous to leave.
When I say that I’m excited, it is not because I am leaving. I’m eager to begin but not to go. I’ve grown very close to my friends here in San Diego, and not knowing where and when I will see them again is a very uncomfortable feeling. They will be missed dearly, and I’m afraid of the loneliness that waits for me in their absence. At the same time this trip is, in a sense, a journey home. I look forward to being close to family and the friends of my childhood when I finish. The trail ends only a few hours drive from the house in which I grew up. I think I’ll stick around for a time after that, though I can’t say for sure how long that will be.
In between my two homes I will walk, and walk a lot. I’ll have to average around 20 miles a day. That is 8 to sometimes 14 hours of hiking a day and tens of thousands of steps taken each day for five months. If my body doesn’t breakdown and the pain of blistered feet doesn’t break my morale, it should be a pretty good time. I’ll have considerable time to myself with few distractions and plenty of fresh air (except above 3000 meters) to do some thinking. Although I’m not given naturally to deep thought and I’ve not made a goal of self-realization or anything like that, I hope that it may simply be a convenient byproduct of the environment I slowly pass through. What is the goal? It’s only to make it to Canada and enjoy whatever is encountered along the way.
P. S. Reading over my first entry, I’ll agree with you that it’s a little sappy. It’s ignorant of the difficulty of such a trip. It’s dramatic. There are important details that were left out like quitting jobs and financial mumble jumble. To my own impending dread, it even has a kind of hopeful romanticism that I find slightly nauseating, but I guess that might be why people are able to go and take a trip like this one. I hope it works out.