tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49325631354501817142024-02-19T14:20:53.652-08:00Rabbit Stick Chronicles - WanderfireFollow my journey to become a Triple Crown thru-hiker, by completing the Pacific Crest Trail (2013), The Appalachian Trail (2015) and The Continental Divide Trail (2016).Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger218125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-80413116507691124912015-03-25T13:53:00.002-07:002015-03-25T13:53:22.708-07:00One Day Before DepartureI'm ready to go, but I will change my shirt and tie for hiking clothes before leaving for the airport.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRrZV_e2PEF8nDjcu3zefes0mlWjAGP97Z9MXsbP1K7EKN2AfeaUKrIBX9PeMEJCUh5m52QTpEzY_gu5EeXcS1iwJ1nE2qhSjw0Z908s9ojSLc2vOhjqVY4U4ZkoVK9mFsUf1pnRNC-I/s1600/2015-03-22+20.57.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRrZV_e2PEF8nDjcu3zefes0mlWjAGP97Z9MXsbP1K7EKN2AfeaUKrIBX9PeMEJCUh5m52QTpEzY_gu5EeXcS1iwJ1nE2qhSjw0Z908s9ojSLc2vOhjqVY4U4ZkoVK9mFsUf1pnRNC-I/s1600/2015-03-22+20.57.14.jpg" height="640" width="361" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-69621078300846026622015-03-25T13:49:00.005-07:002015-03-25T13:50:12.857-07:00Two Days Before Departure<span style="font-size: large;">Today, as well as the last several days has been devoted to taking care of my "honey-do" list. I've been working hard to get everything around the house, and several rental properties ready for the summer. I mowed and raked the lawn; weeded the flower beds and prepared the spot along the garage where Jodie likes to plant tomatoes. I unwrapped the swamp cooler (we're still old-fashion - no AC) and powered up the water line, turned on the water to the sprinkler system and tested all the sprinkler heads. Testing the last water station, no water issued forth from the heads, however, I noticed water pooling in the lawn. That meant only one thing - a broken water pipe, and not something I really wanted to deal with.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As I dug away the grass and rocky soil, I discovered that not only was a PVP pipe broken, but also a T joint was cut. Then I remembered that last Fall, I had been digging tree roots out of the lawn using an ax. I hadn't realized that sprinkler pipes were so close to the surface. In my effort to cut out the tree roots, an ax swing severed a pipe and T joint at the same time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I detest sprinkler systems. I've had to repair them my whole life. Someday, I want to move to a place where all yard work is part of the package deal. It was late at night when I finished repairing the broken sprinkler pipes.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wo1IkuUrUJfZ7Cy6IryqLuLMWPc4pW8O0lJirgy1SsOl5IFRNukNT3Z1ebJYM9u1y3HNq3zMVUkTI_L0cVoY-PsyLJ7e54jWqgzDqhjy-oMk8Q1VyC-8mfWdoHPYEmocNEkYUith1Ng/s1600/2015-03-25+14.40.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wo1IkuUrUJfZ7Cy6IryqLuLMWPc4pW8O0lJirgy1SsOl5IFRNukNT3Z1ebJYM9u1y3HNq3zMVUkTI_L0cVoY-PsyLJ7e54jWqgzDqhjy-oMk8Q1VyC-8mfWdoHPYEmocNEkYUith1Ng/s1600/2015-03-25+14.40.49.jpg" height="361" width="640" /></a></div>
Jodie's Tomato beds are ready.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDS9EPSeN2yvDjBlRtfbdU373IdvvesixvAfgtMrzkZV85dK35npLJw92T1-uAIkTPXyOXwDXtjfI5KkfTSPYKiW1EuCYY-Umya9_qg4K4QvrvMmyjvh3KhtGIruSY8Co9Cpd4Xnqc3o/s1600/2015-03-25+14.13.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDS9EPSeN2yvDjBlRtfbdU373IdvvesixvAfgtMrzkZV85dK35npLJw92T1-uAIkTPXyOXwDXtjfI5KkfTSPYKiW1EuCYY-Umya9_qg4K4QvrvMmyjvh3KhtGIruSY8Co9Cpd4Xnqc3o/s1600/2015-03-25+14.13.24.jpg" height="361" width="640" /></a></div>
The vexing sprinkler system.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-69113529539283314072015-03-25T13:06:00.003-07:002015-03-25T13:10:01.833-07:0010 Days Before Departure<span style="font-size: large;">My original goal was to leave for Georgia and start hiking on March 17th. But the winter storms that have burried the East Coast still continue. From the reports that hikers, who are currently on the trail, are sending back, the trail is covered with snow, thick gooey mud and and in many cases - ice. Accordingly, I elected to postpone my departure day for a week, and will fly to Georgia, from Salt Lake City on March 25th to begin the journey north.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Taking advantage of the extra week, my wife Jodie planned a surprise mini-vacation. She booked us into the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado, adjacent to Rocky Mountain National Park. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We flew to Denver, rented a Jeep Cherokee, and drove the hour and a half to Estes Park. We had nothing special planned, it was just a time to be together for one last time, before departing for five months.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbdF-XZY0C82z-kwsEMXnOeDkkheLShWgZytMWmS4UundKSi_1NS15BYXva8bW3SDsHwAc47yn7eS6PQ8MsSGxlvpG8leAXO3v9qp0ERYEoFGNAkQzlVTABPrvYXzOm60rmuGTG1GnTaU/s1600/2015-03-16+16.19.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbdF-XZY0C82z-kwsEMXnOeDkkheLShWgZytMWmS4UundKSi_1NS15BYXva8bW3SDsHwAc47yn7eS6PQ8MsSGxlvpG8leAXO3v9qp0ERYEoFGNAkQzlVTABPrvYXzOm60rmuGTG1GnTaU/s1600/2015-03-16+16.19.13.jpg" height="361" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The hotel was built in 1909 by F.O. Stanley, one half of the Stanley Steamer automobile innovators, cars that were powered by steam as opposed to gasoline. The hotel is also the location for the filming of the "The Shinning" starring Jack Nickolas and Shelly Duvall.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKGpLOokMTpfwseJLXufAQmInqxsdqxbOn0HlCH3awuktQOgm2UhfyPmjvJjNfOjDNSIymbVrllllY9sNPihlsF1d6ZjeEA65YYY9da1OBBVVC8DnzbI4bADN9zwJhJuDBrHhdQhbxeg8/s1600/Jack+Nickolus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKGpLOokMTpfwseJLXufAQmInqxsdqxbOn0HlCH3awuktQOgm2UhfyPmjvJjNfOjDNSIymbVrllllY9sNPihlsF1d6ZjeEA65YYY9da1OBBVVC8DnzbI4bADN9zwJhJuDBrHhdQhbxeg8/s1600/Jack+Nickolus.jpg" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1l5TfdRAyWuo4c-QajKyxNiwOHk_IfF2sWdWRTHwuBa2Bd0gEq3sDexwBoA8pTZbJAQtyInpbGrvfvvLm54let7usroZdqdmUjID6H4ODmKrEvHPhfiW_S0rafI_AVse76eHMrLWo_3s/s1600/Shelley+Duvall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1l5TfdRAyWuo4c-QajKyxNiwOHk_IfF2sWdWRTHwuBa2Bd0gEq3sDexwBoA8pTZbJAQtyInpbGrvfvvLm54let7usroZdqdmUjID6H4ODmKrEvHPhfiW_S0rafI_AVse76eHMrLWo_3s/s1600/Shelley+Duvall.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVX2-sNptnG8jpTHC8lTMPEz9rGXqdgQAwVAGLBaj6yEnJF7fNwHujZ8T18ftyXfg-vE-mVeXq4pegdU600jfyhAfQULqNjHvg0mC12I_5hfTE38LsqUQuTdn1DuGeyKANdSI0yG6JA_k/s1600/2015-03-16+15.30.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVX2-sNptnG8jpTHC8lTMPEz9rGXqdgQAwVAGLBaj6yEnJF7fNwHujZ8T18ftyXfg-vE-mVeXq4pegdU600jfyhAfQULqNjHvg0mC12I_5hfTE38LsqUQuTdn1DuGeyKANdSI0yG6JA_k/s1600/2015-03-16+15.30.34.jpg" height="361" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
One of the Stanley Steamer cars on display in the hotel.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After viewing the sights around Estes Park, and skirting the edges of the park (the park roads are still snow-bound), and having time to explore, we drove over to Grand Lakes as I wanted to see where the Continental Divide Trail will pass through the town, as I will be here next year. I was delighted to find several CDT logos identifying the trail.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJ2gTSBW7mD-tEzJQUeC3WQKBFpOM3aLxwUTJ4x5DGaXqITVl_kGztlM0_RTzkywoYcSaW2elEKzNNDCKvXuL2k5r2-yklBP6fMu4gjXtN7LU3pF4jXLzbcCNPKFyadh-pF-tKtteMS8/s1600/2015-03-17+10.02.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJ2gTSBW7mD-tEzJQUeC3WQKBFpOM3aLxwUTJ4x5DGaXqITVl_kGztlM0_RTzkywoYcSaW2elEKzNNDCKvXuL2k5r2-yklBP6fMu4gjXtN7LU3pF4jXLzbcCNPKFyadh-pF-tKtteMS8/s1600/2015-03-17+10.02.29.jpg" height="361" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
My dilemma, do I help Jodie out of the snow, or do I take a picture?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgulSlI-ajEnVs7UcPkoVGkU_j0kYxB-Y3cJFlQuc9RlPi8sbxdUivEhwSxbdyoic-NUePuE8iruRkPw7-sm7y4aAYzC-_m_DiJMMRcmj3ZpCVwtSIRrk0b6AzekpTynEvMf7yBIfgks8c/s1600/2015-03-17+10.07.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgulSlI-ajEnVs7UcPkoVGkU_j0kYxB-Y3cJFlQuc9RlPi8sbxdUivEhwSxbdyoic-NUePuE8iruRkPw7-sm7y4aAYzC-_m_DiJMMRcmj3ZpCVwtSIRrk0b6AzekpTynEvMf7yBIfgks8c/s1600/2015-03-17+10.07.32.jpg" height="361" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Without proper footwear, we didn't deem it wise to walk the mile to view Glacier Falls.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Pa6I0r-FA0PMP_41GMWubOlwPPGKc4VWyITUvJZzLjTOv8L0LocR6z5Wh3Am6mC15TdWFmsz2ZDNXowvKHXdRNuwXCRmM0RyAQ8jlEVcriAnamgZAF-x88OxlUUbTfGvH9N5Qgvx63s/s1600/2015-03-17+15.17.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Pa6I0r-FA0PMP_41GMWubOlwPPGKc4VWyITUvJZzLjTOv8L0LocR6z5Wh3Am6mC15TdWFmsz2ZDNXowvKHXdRNuwXCRmM0RyAQ8jlEVcriAnamgZAF-x88OxlUUbTfGvH9N5Qgvx63s/s1600/2015-03-17+15.17.12.jpg" height="361" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Couldn't resist taking a picture of this 1927 Model T Ford, 4-door Phaeton,<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSigAp9_Lw1XKrPtZGu-PJuSmrJHo63dxrHcq2FUFpTDikjeZJoRYjWuw8tyTZDEfZzPYUnWQAFC3EYfa3XEqs1-EeNV-IrOOiLPXC1TYv4dpZOrwO0_bp5dPBL-Aij2bXnqe4cyFcQVY/s1600/2015-03-17+15.21.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSigAp9_Lw1XKrPtZGu-PJuSmrJHo63dxrHcq2FUFpTDikjeZJoRYjWuw8tyTZDEfZzPYUnWQAFC3EYfa3XEqs1-EeNV-IrOOiLPXC1TYv4dpZOrwO0_bp5dPBL-Aij2bXnqe4cyFcQVY/s1600/2015-03-17+15.21.15.jpg" height="361" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Jodie is small, but it looks like she's shrunk even more.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6jCtSKxer0iUJj7FlEs9pCC4Gw_Pi291etGhbm5_9FZAeCpZMvgGXkuL54CnCOcrE78gKc7JPV3ov2zVBJmpxqB78RZJ2IL9WvZS346EyNmoCU0YCqqbgb5G0hkg59tk7owMBPWgWKM/s1600/2015-03-17+15.22.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6jCtSKxer0iUJj7FlEs9pCC4Gw_Pi291etGhbm5_9FZAeCpZMvgGXkuL54CnCOcrE78gKc7JPV3ov2zVBJmpxqB78RZJ2IL9WvZS346EyNmoCU0YCqqbgb5G0hkg59tk7owMBPWgWKM/s1600/2015-03-17+15.22.25.jpg" height="361" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The Model T still runs, and can be started with the hand crank.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiR1h-0yFBX34R-rOR3lvPi3uJ365qNFnIsZT4CTL8rthK3AoLIwafCQZvpmxm4NnVKm685zqjLA4S4C45Y8ry0dwE_H-uVlIbnsrgxzN4O7xGt3ceNuuURDjTXlzeXtjLMl5uNMosaXw/s1600/2015-03-18+15.58.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiR1h-0yFBX34R-rOR3lvPi3uJ365qNFnIsZT4CTL8rthK3AoLIwafCQZvpmxm4NnVKm685zqjLA4S4C45Y8ry0dwE_H-uVlIbnsrgxzN4O7xGt3ceNuuURDjTXlzeXtjLMl5uNMosaXw/s1600/2015-03-18+15.58.07.jpg" height="361" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The CDT passes over this bridge which links two lakes together.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnRMrFZXZ2b-KXIckgoDSEKh-Q4gSMzrr05CJBOpUuny5tZ5aa8MlJhftudcnIKq-SFRKpUDWbciwxq0mVAGP2CDPx6_NZQa3DaYVRUhs4-4_2scbTg1LdBz0nIO_JfeCfZ_zfAJKFF8/s1600/2015-03-18+16.01.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnRMrFZXZ2b-KXIckgoDSEKh-Q4gSMzrr05CJBOpUuny5tZ5aa8MlJhftudcnIKq-SFRKpUDWbciwxq0mVAGP2CDPx6_NZQa3DaYVRUhs4-4_2scbTg1LdBz0nIO_JfeCfZ_zfAJKFF8/s1600/2015-03-18+16.01.04.jpg" height="361" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Here is one of two CDT markers I found showing the trail going through Grand Lakes.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-86497397383579068832015-02-16T12:17:00.001-08:002015-02-17T13:09:51.221-08:00<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Gear Changes for AT 2015 hike</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></b></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvhphsqzPXJSNDGrusid3C0diOYsWozhWsCZIbrEIsJaxMzCJqvLup8b0iwUJebs3rVxTFE64iATfthnsJrhqu8os_CgBfu85ca3gQHETaTN9wZzgSkv_rtS8d4aBTW7kDEKmUf4XFxs/s1600/Osprey+Aether.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvhphsqzPXJSNDGrusid3C0diOYsWozhWsCZIbrEIsJaxMzCJqvLup8b0iwUJebs3rVxTFE64iATfthnsJrhqu8os_CgBfu85ca3gQHETaTN9wZzgSkv_rtS8d4aBTW7kDEKmUf4XFxs/s1600/Osprey+Aether.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Osprey Aether 60</span></b><br />
Although I was fairly pleased with the ULA Catalyst Pack I had used for the PCT, I decided I wanted to try a different pack, to see if I could eliminate the constant strain on my back that the Catalyst caused me. I opted for the Osprey Aether 60. Features that I like about the Pack:</div>
<br />
Contents of pack can be accessed from the side as well as the top.<br />
<br />
A divider inside the pack makes for two compartments. The lower compartment has it's own zipper and is big enough for my sleeping bag, sleeping pad and ground cloth.<br />
<br />
The pack has a lid that can be used as a separate fanny pack.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Once loaded with 30 lbs., the pack rides on my hips rather than hanging off my shoulders. <b>Weight: 3 lbs 5 oz</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHw8YIjGAyR1-eMmhUCuKl-8xrqQjasUPlccJSuAxQwqOiEPWO6Yrxwu8-bkV-W8eQ1QcwZ8iXeQ79nxrsf9_Lyw6CvKkUoDvh-42C6SZYUVcdsByqBmQoJouDcbciqU8e3w1-8fRg-4/s1600/Flash+Short.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHw8YIjGAyR1-eMmhUCuKl-8xrqQjasUPlccJSuAxQwqOiEPWO6Yrxwu8-bkV-W8eQ1QcwZ8iXeQ79nxrsf9_Lyw6CvKkUoDvh-42C6SZYUVcdsByqBmQoJouDcbciqU8e3w1-8fRg-4/s1600/Flash+Short.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large;">REI Flash Sleeping Pad </b></span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">The Therma-Rest NeoAir sleeping pad just barely made it to the end of the PCT. I had to discard it when I returned home. The baffles had blown out resulting in a large hump in the middle of the pad. The NeoAir was expensive. This time, I chose the REI brand Flash with PrimaLoft insulated baffles.</span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Next year, for the CDT, I will use a pad called the Nemo Astro Insulated Lite 20R. It's constructed with horizontal, insulated baffles instead of longitudinal ones.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Weight: 15.9 oz</b>.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMIGL-0HKb5rSOW-AWhkCzfpULYgSGCsK89p2zFEP9ZQlD9X0Sh6Q9g7-2-fNRrDcysf-m_qKOoIe1DU3GDTbxGSWFsNFGFspq9-eXGLxBxCIMMIIz7dcmq2btfWb44DwS9AcV-0TkfM/s1600/Mt+Hardware+BLUE+GHOST.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMIGL-0HKb5rSOW-AWhkCzfpULYgSGCsK89p2zFEP9ZQlD9X0Sh6Q9g7-2-fNRrDcysf-m_qKOoIe1DU3GDTbxGSWFsNFGFspq9-eXGLxBxCIMMIIz7dcmq2btfWb44DwS9AcV-0TkfM/s1600/Mt+Hardware+BLUE+GHOST.jpg" height="320" width="319" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Mountain Hardware Ghost Whisperer Insulated Jacket</span></b><br />
Seeking to lighten my pack weight, I ditched my 22 oz. North Face jacket for the much lighter 6 oz. Mountain Hardware Ghost Whisperer jacket. When I held the Ghost in my hands, I was amazed at how flimsy the jacket appeared. The shell material has the look of tissue paper, and the jacket is almost transparent, but it is insulated with 800 down fill.<br />
<br />
I tested it thoroughly on my daily 5 mile walks, in bitter 12 degree weather. This down jacket, coupled with my newly acquired Eddie Bauer Hangfire Hoodie, kept me warm. I know that if I need extra warmth with my GoLite Quilt, the Ghost Whisperer will come to the rescue. <b>Weight: 6 oz.</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRB8730QLQGp3zDmpQ2QRoVcASe4VUO3AvBs08reEQeX8sBb2n1XOf3eJIK79CRi-RZ0t4pB-zf2DetQWMqBEyiXaUTJgYyWJ7lOrHUxw3XW4jb9tfv98um8A2TeJFbMza9a32csd447A/s1600/hangfirehoodie-600x983.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRB8730QLQGp3zDmpQ2QRoVcASe4VUO3AvBs08reEQeX8sBb2n1XOf3eJIK79CRi-RZ0t4pB-zf2DetQWMqBEyiXaUTJgYyWJ7lOrHUxw3XW4jb9tfv98um8A2TeJFbMza9a32csd447A/s1600/hangfirehoodie-600x983.jpeg" height="400" width="244" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Eddie Bauer Hangfire Outerwear Hooded Jacket</span></b><br />
My wife brought this jacket home for me; she said the reviews were very good on it. I was skeptical. Nevertheless, I wore it as an outer jacket over my down Ghost Whisperer jacket on my morning walks. I loved the results. The jacket is made of mid-weight stretch fleece which doesn't inhibit my movement and it's easy to put of or take off over my down jacket. I love the layering options it gives me. It's so easy and comfortable to wear, that I'm opting to wear it in place of a long sleeve shirt. The hood fits snug around the head - no need for draw strings and it zips up far enough around the face that it works like a balaclava. It's also functions as a wind breaker and it is water resistant. It should be a good jacket. <b>Weight: 15.2 oz.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b><b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHwXwygvs2uxK9QwDuQ0LJvIVu4GO3MtUsmg58BwSM6ij9OHNJ0ivor1Ek0-PVQ8Sg7iearqtDLVR5EdTp4A7vAInIeveU3RK2E1wdjcnZ2aiT-pFYinY6IH5_SLtEWPkM_Yq4Imcz28o/s1600/darn+tough+socks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHwXwygvs2uxK9QwDuQ0LJvIVu4GO3MtUsmg58BwSM6ij9OHNJ0ivor1Ek0-PVQ8Sg7iearqtDLVR5EdTp4A7vAInIeveU3RK2E1wdjcnZ2aiT-pFYinY6IH5_SLtEWPkM_Yq4Imcz28o/s1600/darn+tough+socks.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Darn Tough Socks</span></b><br />
For the PCT, I used doubled-knitted Wright socks Cool Mesh II. I thought they were excellent socks and would purchase them again; however, my preference in length is crew length - I like to pull them up my ankles. My local REI no longer carries them, so I decided to try the Darn Tough Socks. I must admit, I've been sucked in by the hype. They're suppose to have a life-time guarantee, and if they wear out, supposedly I can send them back to the company for replacements. From the reports of another hiker, he said he had to replace this brand every 350 miles. I just looked online and find that I can order the Crew length Wright socks from SocksAddict.com for $12.00 a pair - same as at REI. I firmly believe the double-knit socks greatly reduce the propensity for blisters that hikers are prone to get.<b> Weight: 2 oz.</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBs8zw8dd-VbwEJQayz8BCiIWwYxwThSoF2s5K5TKcoIM0iI1q76iea00lPCR__mX8rS6qR1JE6WjHpFfqOMjAMaCTVkTnf65MqfQKK04iS0kzEfNroM43sIM39apvvXWx5jFYSuDEEQ/s1600/moab+ventilator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBs8zw8dd-VbwEJQayz8BCiIWwYxwThSoF2s5K5TKcoIM0iI1q76iea00lPCR__mX8rS6qR1JE6WjHpFfqOMjAMaCTVkTnf65MqfQKK04iS0kzEfNroM43sIM39apvvXWx5jFYSuDEEQ/s1600/moab+ventilator.jpg" height="167" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><b>Merrell Moab Ventilator Shoes</b></span></div>
</div>
Shoes are everything - they will make or break a long-distance hike. I loved the Keen Voyager shoe with its roomy toe box, but the problems with delamination put the kabosh on buying any more of this brand. My foot is a size 12 and I normally wear a size 13 shoe. For long-distance hiking, I buy a size 14 to ensure sufficient wiggle room in the toe box. In talking with the shoe salesman at REI, about having sufficient width in the toe box, he informed me that Merrill shoes can be purchased in extra wide widths. He had a pair of 14W in stock which I purchased, and I've been wearing them every day. Merrill is an excellent brand, and I feel comfortable that I'll get a lot of mileage out of these shoes. I tried wearing inserts with them, but found they were uncomfortable and not really needed.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXtAun66Wf0tP4_HzKgYS0hGM6JDSaLI1T4Zhyg5mxGLrsPa_mxOCTHKZ-SYrtqzDCggrG8Ucv_Mt9U43Pb_qIEdSq76_7-6G0eJ6AQ7pyrWWrq2IeQNvDwpGkUdchPY9zDSopUlS2dM/s1600/Copper+Spur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXtAun66Wf0tP4_HzKgYS0hGM6JDSaLI1T4Zhyg5mxGLrsPa_mxOCTHKZ-SYrtqzDCggrG8Ucv_Mt9U43Pb_qIEdSq76_7-6G0eJ6AQ7pyrWWrq2IeQNvDwpGkUdchPY9zDSopUlS2dM/s1600/Copper+Spur.jpg" height="247" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Big Agnes Copper Spur 1</span></b><br />
My decision to go with a different tent was two-fold: I wanted one that was truly self-standing, and had a double wall, meaning a rain fly. I had a few issues with the Tarp Tent Rainbow. To keep water out of the tent, it needs to be properly staked, but due to the terrain, this was not always possible. Likewise, the loop and hook fabric tabs that looped around the trekking pole to hold the arching center pole taut, when they were wet and dirty, they often failed. I saw several Copper Spurs on the PCT and the owners were pleased with the performance. After the AT hike, I'll give a post-trip assessment of it. <b>Weight 2 lbs 8 oz.</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRhx4htgM0gdpvlQM9s1Z14eLX8j-lufMss67Jdo6EWXpBWxsyLJBSD73HEKtFw0L5Kb0tVSF3Ye93G_2qgoCYRloHk0fOfG9oTeBKH5Tc82QMlYMRZU4CzHeP76VQRvj3tLWMmb53sNA/s1600/White+Sierra+Pants.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRhx4htgM0gdpvlQM9s1Z14eLX8j-lufMss67Jdo6EWXpBWxsyLJBSD73HEKtFw0L5Kb0tVSF3Ye93G_2qgoCYRloHk0fOfG9oTeBKH5Tc82QMlYMRZU4CzHeP76VQRvj3tLWMmb53sNA/s1600/White+Sierra+Pants.jpg" height="320" width="247" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">White Sierra Teton Trail Convertible Pants</span></b><br />
I really wanted to purchase another pair of the REI brand stretch hiking pants that I found at the REI store in Bend, OR, but they no longer seem to be available. I looked at stretch fabric pants made by Columbia and pRana but for one reason or another they didn't work for me. It could have been that they didn't have cargo pockets, which are essential for hikers. On the recommendation of another hiker I ordered a pair of White Sierra trail pants. They're not made with stretch fabric and appear to be much like TNF or REI or Columbia hiking pants, but priced much less - $41 versus $60 - $70 for other brands.<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPG0TPzZKVr1623GnhYxgcT4wmBGjx708Q-Xa4K1JFjdbTvTPgshcUI2LMYMwKGRMicl5yU9-xdYu6ZmsBwhMHJpyFHgH0aj8tNMpzUvsOA9mMYpVzsDhz47NNDI2gYzNcXrIsQ0_ikl4/s1600/Jetboil+Stove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPG0TPzZKVr1623GnhYxgcT4wmBGjx708Q-Xa4K1JFjdbTvTPgshcUI2LMYMwKGRMicl5yU9-xdYu6ZmsBwhMHJpyFHgH0aj8tNMpzUvsOA9mMYpVzsDhz47NNDI2gYzNcXrIsQ0_ikl4/s1600/Jetboil+Stove.jpg" height="320" width="257" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;">JetBoil Stove</b><br />
Twice on the PCT, I had my wife bring me my JetBoil stove and twice, I sent it home. Considering what I was carrying in my pack, it just seemed to bulky. This time, my Osprey Aether 60 is a bit bigger and the JetBoil doesn't seem out of place. Instead of eating all my meals cold, I'm determined to take the time to boil water, which the JetBoil does exceptionally fast, and enjoy a hot breakfast and dinner each day.<b> Weight: Stove with two 4 oz fuel canisters and cooking cup/pot 11.6 oz.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b><b><br /></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEtpPF8H2ASZM8sMWk1t02kN50Z5PljsUB_06HPj8IYGTj_HSE0lpaM3powh5bSkXenT-auBVQhRo-4BuxruE_3IqheyCDINUrgB-nA1p9i-_A_F4jJmpJZypEJxQlwfD6-aQWGkuKT4/s1600/BD+Spot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEtpPF8H2ASZM8sMWk1t02kN50Z5PljsUB_06HPj8IYGTj_HSE0lpaM3powh5bSkXenT-auBVQhRo-4BuxruE_3IqheyCDINUrgB-nA1p9i-_A_F4jJmpJZypEJxQlwfD6-aQWGkuKT4/s1600/BD+Spot.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Black Diamond Spot Head Lamp</span></b><br />
I'm willing to give this brand and model of headlamp a try to see if it's any better than the others I've tried - Petzel, Princeton Tec, generic. It's an LED lamp rated at 130 lumen. Weight: 3.2 oz.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgccZYoNmEtOAznR-FSq1NNDkMnMuKAkuIKVphO1AT5wgu1Oc0pNTOMjxmQW_bB-AgK40HjhXlrqNaIipl1rN6Yq6C7uWVrtQ_b0ZEW7kykfL4gYHLIGFUgYDkoji9hZEpf1VjNbkaDCyA/s1600/ipod+classic.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgccZYoNmEtOAznR-FSq1NNDkMnMuKAkuIKVphO1AT5wgu1Oc0pNTOMjxmQW_bB-AgK40HjhXlrqNaIipl1rN6Yq6C7uWVrtQ_b0ZEW7kykfL4gYHLIGFUgYDkoji9hZEpf1VjNbkaDCyA/s1600/ipod+classic.png" height="320" width="194" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;">iPod Classic</b><br />
Last hiking season, I walked most of the trail without listening to any music or books on tapes. And I was fine with that, for most of the trip. But by the time I reached Oregon - 1700 miles into the journey, I was really tired of listening to the voices in my head. I saw other hikers using the small iPod Shuffles to listen to music, so I asked my wife to purchase one, load some music onto it and send it to me. I received it at the Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood. It helped to ease the monotony of hiking 12 hours a day. A Shuffle is limited to 2-3 GB of memory; the iPod Nano-16 GB and the iPod Touch-64 GB. For the AT and the CDT, I purchased the outdated iPod Classic with 160 GB. Already, I've noted that the battery life for the Classic is not as great as the smaller iPod Nano. The unit was a used one purchase on Amazon. I hope it lasts. <b>Weight: 1.9 oz</b>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_gwHiKqydT1Y_-7MhWTB_R4XBUlnIe20cr0GxJAtS_fjopWsVTfRlx99TmR4M9SbzN96Lwyn9I9XORjZUOdBimbzfnvmlSSKDO4gt1neXakAhNhCZFvX1PsZGQNTYqIkxAMA3Ce2cuU/s1600/EZ-Share.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_gwHiKqydT1Y_-7MhWTB_R4XBUlnIe20cr0GxJAtS_fjopWsVTfRlx99TmR4M9SbzN96Lwyn9I9XORjZUOdBimbzfnvmlSSKDO4gt1neXakAhNhCZFvX1PsZGQNTYqIkxAMA3Ce2cuU/s1600/EZ-Share.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;">EZ-Share SD Camera Card</b><br />
I did not blog on the PCT, so having instantaneous access to my photos was not a concern.This hiking season will be different. I will have a Microsoft Surface II Tablet with which to blog, and having access to my photos will be vital for keeping the blog updated. With this little wizard of a card in my camera, I can select the images I want and send them to my phone, which will automatically upload them to my Dropbox. (Cloud Service) Text and coordinating pictures can be downloaded to my blog effortlessly. I'm looking forward to seeing how this all works. Getting the images from the camera to the phone was not intuitive after reading the instructions. However, a knowledgeable geek at Best Buy was able to walk me through the steps.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_N9QzYJj_SAm_DlAZxnEBl5_-Tr4ev4Xdd1pjnfF96UPDdTYA7nigA6__6Hv8OQMRIiONhyF-NWvavbEMxsTO5n1f1sf7LVb7XKi0ShdJgn89vjxIilRh6dQYD0phUmuEyTTv_rnIPU/s1600/surface+II.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_N9QzYJj_SAm_DlAZxnEBl5_-Tr4ev4Xdd1pjnfF96UPDdTYA7nigA6__6Hv8OQMRIiONhyF-NWvavbEMxsTO5n1f1sf7LVb7XKi0ShdJgn89vjxIilRh6dQYD0phUmuEyTTv_rnIPU/s1600/surface+II.jpg" height="223" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;">Microsoft Surface II Tablet</b><br />
The Surface II Tablet is the one luxurious item I'm taking with me on the journey. With its detachable keyboard, it will allow me to type my blog without having to resort to using the keypad on my phone, which is virtually impossible for me to do. It adds 2 lbs to my pack weight, but for this endeavour, I deem it worthwhile. <b>Weight: 2 lbs.</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-57450716348096055772015-02-16T08:22:00.003-08:002015-02-19T17:01:24.958-08:00Gear Review PCT 2013<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #0c343d;">For my 2013 hike, I spent a considerable amount of time searching the records, journals and archives of previous PCT hikers in an effort to ascertain the appropriate gear needed for such an arduous undertaking. I felt I could benefit greatly from other's experiences, by reading their accounts and judging for myself whether the items they picked for their expedition would be suitable for my journey. Now that the hike has been completed, I can give an honest assessment of the equipment I used. Some items I chose based on the recommendations of others, while others items were taken just because they were hanging in my closet. For this journey, I was very sensitive to the weight of every item, and I often made my buying decisions based on its weight. In the end, I'm not sure it made that much difference.</span></div>
</div>
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyB3FIyebrqki_gzQ7FNs1Yli16nX88In9qsgqewg-QGDChewYkAdLpqdIFtofpFvb-kxtWhwwM3d_MxiNNAA8t3rKdTVpIDU8LmhHWP2ZJ-UAeRuvPh_9UQnnuVJXgIUB2kMhnvSLctY/s1600/Ultralight+tips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyB3FIyebrqki_gzQ7FNs1Yli16nX88In9qsgqewg-QGDChewYkAdLpqdIFtofpFvb-kxtWhwwM3d_MxiNNAA8t3rKdTVpIDU8LmhHWP2ZJ-UAeRuvPh_9UQnnuVJXgIUB2kMhnvSLctY/s1600/Ultralight+tips.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></span></a></div>
<span style="color: #0c343d;">I read Mike Clellands book <u>Ultralight Backpacking' Tips</u> and gained considerable insight into the mindset of the Ultralight backpacker. If you're new to the world of long-distance backpacking, I can highly recommend reading his book. It will furnish the new hiker with a great understanding of the terminology of backpacking, i.e., Base weight, Pack weight, The big three, Ultralight, etc., and what to look for when searching for just the right equipment. I wouldn't get to hung up on being a "gram wiene." This is the hiker who cuts the end off of the toothbrush; who makes toothpaste dots instead of carrying a tube of toothpaste, or trims the edges off of the maps. It's true, ounces make pounds and the only way to get rid of pounds is to get rid of ounces. For the PCT hike, I think I got my base weight down to 15 lbs. That's everything in the pack except food and water. For the 2015 Appalachian hike, my base weight is around 17 lbs. Adding 4 days of food and 2 liters of water, my pack weight is 32 lbs. </span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><br />After having completed the PCT, my honest consensus is, for future hikes, if I like the item and it's useful, I'll take it regardless of the weight.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGoIVHHXUyTzVWL9FSD_DsOPDqZOgaj2piP8Q1PguFm17uTbWLalwB8Mlqt4sefJEmM4XQUT6uAwA39QUZcOJn8XKM16lm7PicVwUfaZQWe1H_NAT1HpuF7neaSx4l0ETIfbPEv2ArAk/s1600/ULA+Pack+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGoIVHHXUyTzVWL9FSD_DsOPDqZOgaj2piP8Q1PguFm17uTbWLalwB8Mlqt4sefJEmM4XQUT6uAwA39QUZcOJn8XKM16lm7PicVwUfaZQWe1H_NAT1HpuF7neaSx4l0ETIfbPEv2ArAk/s1600/ULA+Pack+2.jpg" height="320" width="241" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">ULA Catalyst Backpack - Large</span></b><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;">I choose it because it was in the lightweight pack category, and had raving reviews from a multitude of long-distance hikers who had used it. At only 48 ounces, it could carry up to 40 lbs. It has a large mesh back panel for stashing odds and ends, two side pockets for caching water bottles, and two hip pockets for holding snacks, cameras, sunglasses or GPS unit. Likewise, a bear vault fit easily in the top.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0c343d;">By the time I arrived at Lake Tahoe, I was experiencing severe back pains, particular on the muscles bordering both sides of my spine. No matter how much adjusting I did with the straps, I could never get the pain to go away Fiddling with the adjustments I could ease the pain for awhile, but it stayed with me all the way to Canada. I would still recommend the pack. <b>Weight: 48 oz.</b></span><br />
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3gKnCmKLiSAngUNLU97nuZNTKbSAHkbqTqisdbIn_8MfY8LHPHyBUlDLPYo_jCNVk196TGChEtBELzPI4bahJjKZJQUer5gP3U2lFMNQYsFtdJhLk08Tq4fjWws4JwKWKmOpB1_qxnsA/s1600/GoLite+Quilt+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3gKnCmKLiSAngUNLU97nuZNTKbSAHkbqTqisdbIn_8MfY8LHPHyBUlDLPYo_jCNVk196TGChEtBELzPI4bahJjKZJQUer5gP3U2lFMNQYsFtdJhLk08Tq4fjWws4JwKWKmOpB1_qxnsA/s1600/GoLite+Quilt+-+Copy.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">GoLite Quilt </span></b><br />
Fill: 800 Down. I was comfortable with the concept of just having a quilt to lay over me, rather zipping myself into a mummy bag, If the temperatures dropped, I'd bundle up by putting on my North Face Redpoint synthetic jacket and my Mountain Hardware fleece lined hat. Bundling up in all my clothes and putting the bag inside my Titanium Goat bivy sack, I have slept in my backyard with a foot and half of snow and temperature down to 12 degrees. It was a little tight, but I made it through the night.<b> Weight: 22 oz.</b></div>
<div>
<br />
It's too bad that GoLite went out of business.<b style="font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"> </b></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBNKTK3rUc0osdvp3C54fnifPRNeUawEsp0wtPYqAEsFGHMygG0TtoSKaflBMHUhKPUYR1iEI8CXOoQ3iRxIDxUJOhjz_ekOmgAdRRJV1yKgBtlnrlrU7z-o-CxN1BVzmsLNMBpIUSm5A/s1600/Neo+-+Air+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBNKTK3rUc0osdvp3C54fnifPRNeUawEsp0wtPYqAEsFGHMygG0TtoSKaflBMHUhKPUYR1iEI8CXOoQ3iRxIDxUJOhjz_ekOmgAdRRJV1yKgBtlnrlrU7z-o-CxN1BVzmsLNMBpIUSm5A/s1600/Neo+-+Air+-+Copy.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Therma-Rest NeoAir Pad</span></b><br />
This was a wonderful piece of equipment, and I'm glad I opted for the long size, so that my feet (heels) didn't have to lie on the hard ground. I'm 6'3" and all of me fit on the air mattress. </div>
<div>
It's made of a very lightweight material that crinkles like a potato chip bag when in use. Because I usually left camp before everyone else, I would tend to camp apart for others, so that the noise of the bag being folded wouldn't disturb them. It acquired a few holes, but they were easy to patch. Towards the end of the journey, the interior baffles began to separate so that there was just a big hump in the middle of the mattress. I was disappointed in this, but I figure I got my money's worth. I had to discard it at the end of the trip. <b> Weight: 23 oz.</b><br />
<div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNTgftrCC7n_8H3NqoaN-D2t_kWkKM4Vzytadi9-8Xzfj45XAZiq8fGzvGj56JbIHNQfRtQl0hUmlzucGDtkwP9Mm34rod6-FTmU_0uW5tTb0SxHu3XR6uOwRyM2Y0msi-g50Tq15LbY/s1600/titanium+goat+bivy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNTgftrCC7n_8H3NqoaN-D2t_kWkKM4Vzytadi9-8Xzfj45XAZiq8fGzvGj56JbIHNQfRtQl0hUmlzucGDtkwP9Mm34rod6-FTmU_0uW5tTb0SxHu3XR6uOwRyM2Y0msi-g50Tq15LbY/s1600/titanium+goat+bivy.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;">Titanium Goat Bivy Sack</b><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;">This lightweight bivy weighs all of 6.7 oz. It added a little warmth to the GoLite quilt, but primarily I used it to keep the bag clean, as well as hold the quilt close around my body. The zipper extended down both sides which made getting in and out of the bag easy and it has an option of mosquito netting over the face. I chose the netting and utilized it several times. I used the bivy every night on the trail. </span><span style="color: #0c343d;">The bivy was not water-proof, and I knew that when I bought it. <b>Weight 6.7 oz.</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><b><br /></b></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtaJtQNkNQok3NUYLVeH0JTi8aX9lS93GHtI6giNI0HOKK_v7aAoeqt7ofOtYNSKGY9BTxu6EHWvfL8MEDX9Fc74l7XlA8tn_oy5ay6EqX0fXwRxRaY4H1CsW5RKQJdCgeaI32kQXNx-s/s1600/tnf+groundcloth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtaJtQNkNQok3NUYLVeH0JTi8aX9lS93GHtI6giNI0HOKK_v7aAoeqt7ofOtYNSKGY9BTxu6EHWvfL8MEDX9Fc74l7XlA8tn_oy5ay6EqX0fXwRxRaY4H1CsW5RKQJdCgeaI32kQXNx-s/s1600/tnf+groundcloth.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #cc0000; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The North Face Ground Cloth</span></b><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;">For 35 years, I've had an old TNF ground cloth that's been used on hundreds of river trips. For the PCT, I thought it was a little heavy, so I trimmed about a third of it. Now days, no one makes light weight ground cloths - they're all footprints for tents; however, for the AT in 2015, I will purchase a Gossamer ground cloth. They weight next to nothing. <b>TNF Ground Cloth Weight: About 7 oz.</b></span></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF70aM7d6BrJ0aogExotuN5Ttuw2QtFnjUmHmX93HowYGOaduhNvt8TwKOpm3TSr__tblB4viqtUGJ4-gBzoaYh171av_F3KqsVNobcyQ8QNTM6LM_P0kOnfnbjqWRWt6QYFnUCMP2LPM/s1600/tarptent+open.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF70aM7d6BrJ0aogExotuN5Ttuw2QtFnjUmHmX93HowYGOaduhNvt8TwKOpm3TSr__tblB4viqtUGJ4-gBzoaYh171av_F3KqsVNobcyQ8QNTM6LM_P0kOnfnbjqWRWt6QYFnUCMP2LPM/s1600/tarptent+open.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">TarpTent Rainbow Solo </span></b><br />
Tent selection was a nightmare.There were so many and each had its pros and cons. I finally settled on a Tarptent Contrail model, based on its weight but sold it before the trip began. I decided I needed a side entry tent versus a front entry, plus being free standing. I stayed with Tarp Tent and purchased the Rainbow Solo. Using trekking poles, it was free standing. It was roomy with adequate headspace and I could pull my pack in with me, or leave it protected in the vestibule. Set up time was quick as it didn't need to be staked out. My only complaint, the Velcro tabs that looped around the trekking pole to keep the center pole taut, often failed when the tabs got wet and dirty. <b>Weight: 2 lbs, 3 oz.</b></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqvUqdPg3Tl62bEPEoN8E4iAkldUdBtAIZSwyRl4mBIUyFIOWKMAyFmE6ugURY4FOOj4InP3GF770tViYFgHv5NbwQgn9hxerXH-O8DxAG1m6v4wXeRtDjBgqkx7Y4B7F4y0VqOBMCOc/s1600/z-pad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqvUqdPg3Tl62bEPEoN8E4iAkldUdBtAIZSwyRl4mBIUyFIOWKMAyFmE6ugURY4FOOj4InP3GF770tViYFgHv5NbwQgn9hxerXH-O8DxAG1m6v4wXeRtDjBgqkx7Y4B7F4y0VqOBMCOc/s1600/z-pad.jpg" height="300" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;">Therm-a-Rest Z Fold Pad </b><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;">I already had a sleeping pad, so this item was not necessary, but having already purchased it, and as much as it weighted little to nothing, I took it with me. I cut it down to a 3/4 length and used it extensively whenever I needed to sit on the ground, i.e., to make lunch, rest or take a nap. </span></div>
<div>
<b>Weight: n/a</b></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihV6g5lqBcgC_36oxnZLqGDrIum7YrjMhc4Ky4VvTJdpjxKRVzz9vh819llygTa81xkBNFIoL-2x-RMgB3KKAyjVcpmECZ7kTHLenDg0bWnhz8bheTrw0DEX1-hNADTtXgmOML3ihepIk/s1600/tnf+ss+orange.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihV6g5lqBcgC_36oxnZLqGDrIum7YrjMhc4Ky4VvTJdpjxKRVzz9vh819llygTa81xkBNFIoL-2x-RMgB3KKAyjVcpmECZ7kTHLenDg0bWnhz8bheTrw0DEX1-hNADTtXgmOML3ihepIk/s1600/tnf+ss+orange.jpg" height="320" width="273" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;">Short Sleeve Vapor Wick Shirt </b><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;">This is a The North Face Vaporwick shirt I had hanging in my closet for ten years. It was comfortable to wear, quick to dry and, did not stink after extended use, plus the fabric did not snag. The shirt is no longer available, but there are plenty of such shirts on the market from a variety of manufacturers. The photo is an example of the shirt I wore every day for five months. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdGzpB-9PUboJx8AEcJi_vp8fiC-in4DDQJ3usxGdoC1vLOX44pbzZxfIXbCQZTP2cDxB0Db0JtKsI-cTdBuJi-Pyao-dZQ3K4ppY17YG7a6xrfWO6cu7TuJ-3SLgBF0Y22XW-T4i8ME/s1600/tnf+ls+blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdGzpB-9PUboJx8AEcJi_vp8fiC-in4DDQJ3usxGdoC1vLOX44pbzZxfIXbCQZTP2cDxB0Db0JtKsI-cTdBuJi-Pyao-dZQ3K4ppY17YG7a6xrfWO6cu7TuJ-3SLgBF0Y22XW-T4i8ME/s1600/tnf+ls+blue.jpg" height="320" width="319" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;">Long Sleeve, Lightweight, Stretch Fabric Shirt</b><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">This is another shirt I had hanging in my closet for many years. It's a The North Face Flight Series medium weight pullover. This particular model is no longer available, but the current model is called the Isotherm. It's a breathable, moisture wicking, wind resistant pullover made with stretch polyester fabric and stretch Merino wool panels. I absolutely loved this product. If the weather were just a bit nippy, or the chilly wind picked up, this was my go to windshirt.</span> </span><br />
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQH11HoaA6mjO_HcEeVhJvm7J8UBsHgLkr33SZu4DNXxSiNRfwC9jcOhpnLz-ZnFxc1NLK8ZIDz1uxsul7ShEm03dP7LJR3zSMMVO7y4NgQRcjIyh8Gqi10K3583yzlacxQ91pM5HRew/s1600/Houdini+jacket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQH11HoaA6mjO_HcEeVhJvm7J8UBsHgLkr33SZu4DNXxSiNRfwC9jcOhpnLz-ZnFxc1NLK8ZIDz1uxsul7ShEm03dP7LJR3zSMMVO7y4NgQRcjIyh8Gqi10K3583yzlacxQ91pM5HRew/s1600/Houdini+jacket.jpg" height="320" width="319" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Patagonia Houdini Wind Shirt</span></b><br />
Is a windshirt necessary for the PCT. I wasn't sure. Some hiker gear lists included one, while others did not. A popular brand on the trail was the Patagonia Houdini Windshirt. They are pricy and I debated whether or not to get one. I have a Patagonia Outlet store in my area, so I popped in one day to see what was available. I found an ugly color Houdini in my size for $35, so I purchased it. On the trail, I used it a couple of times, but found that I prefered my long sleeve TNF stretch fabric pullover. About half way through the trip, I sent the windshirt home.<br />
<b>Weight: 4 oz.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large;"><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6BILsmWsmnTmM9gG6vLVBvpm0fJiSqD85iEwTuNH7e4SyMyLTvRxJSenS_O5PkacP94CekWw6DpVQbHXD8-6784UPCadWEUaeZuFT3O84kSk7krOBLn29jumbS6eTnZQFv7XVbus7hvM/s1600/REI+stretch+pants+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6BILsmWsmnTmM9gG6vLVBvpm0fJiSqD85iEwTuNH7e4SyMyLTvRxJSenS_O5PkacP94CekWw6DpVQbHXD8-6784UPCadWEUaeZuFT3O84kSk7krOBLn29jumbS6eTnZQFv7XVbus7hvM/s1600/REI+stretch+pants+-+Copy.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;">REI Brand Hiking Pants</b><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;">I went through three pairs of hiking pants - one pair of The North Face brand and two from REI. The first two pair of pants were basically the same, just different brands. None were zip-offs. The stitching on the back pockets and the inseam were the big culprits, plus wear spots began to show. The last pair was an REI brand made with stretch fabric and the pockets were internal, so no stitching. They were the best and I still have them and wear them. REI no longer makes this pant, but they carry similar stretch pants from Columbia, and pRana. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ4BsSm8bP418-xEijLeF_UmudQ8SsVcYwb1_6AOVi68w9fJsyRbwvmZ6g9jQZ0M4z6KGOpMl9T1zkEmf2komy4hkCBde-tCLeTkofnKCHiBPvonxkUOk8tLDw6V3ITI9Ip_vg1HoIXbA/s1600/WrightSock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ4BsSm8bP418-xEijLeF_UmudQ8SsVcYwb1_6AOVi68w9fJsyRbwvmZ6g9jQZ0M4z6KGOpMl9T1zkEmf2komy4hkCBde-tCLeTkofnKCHiBPvonxkUOk8tLDw6V3ITI9Ip_vg1HoIXbA/s1600/WrightSock.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Wright Cool Mesh II Hiking Socks</span></b><br />
I did my due diligence when looking for socks and ended up buying the Wright sock based on the fact that it's a knitted doubled sock, thus reducing friction on sole of the feet. They were not the hoped for cure-all for blisters, but I think I fared far better than many others on the trail. I went through four pair and will buy them again. My preference in size is crew length, but they no longer seem to be available from REI. I don't care for the shorter anklets or mid-ankle size. <b>Weight: 2 oz.<span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: large; text-align: center;"> </span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnROnXI0gZKkg1UvliSFVvAcLizprCyJe77ol6OmHN8SfsTp7Eng52WVhiNxlDdcm0_MvQPP4YMmZpuC9kqjSgv8VopOkgRR67m7Oi1V6evN2krxb6Xi46w9KpCr6PRnHInlx14AzC8ZM/s1600/keen+voyager+shoe+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnROnXI0gZKkg1UvliSFVvAcLizprCyJe77ol6OmHN8SfsTp7Eng52WVhiNxlDdcm0_MvQPP4YMmZpuC9kqjSgv8VopOkgRR67m7Oi1V6evN2krxb6Xi46w9KpCr6PRnHInlx14AzC8ZM/s1600/keen+voyager+shoe+-+Copy.jpg" height="215" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Keen Voyageur Shoes</span></b><br />
Footwear on the PCT tended to be lightweight trail runners, of which there are a plethora. I chose to go with a little sturdier shoe and went with the Keen Voyager based on the feature that it had a wide toe box which is essential for long-distance hiking. Because the feet swell, the toes need plenty of room to spread out. I bought five pair, and all five pair failed. Problem: the soles delaminated from the uppers. REI gave me credit for all five. I loved the shoe with the wide toe box, had no problems with blisters between the toes. I finished the trail - from Bend, OR to the border, wearing Brooks, Cascadia Model running shoe, with insoles. Will be searching for a new shoe for the AT.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLG6AzhWLuxG-B7LxhDwLqoUxZqgovWy1h84ZWYOwhdnjpGYwxAz42c4tKyxATczRoH0u8nfu3nIdLvPFizp6ucmM2yz9bbhTmsyNwUtnlKclFt_nqZwd1W11aYmVnCJQrVWnwbVh8xKo/s1600/tnf+redpoint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLG6AzhWLuxG-B7LxhDwLqoUxZqgovWy1h84ZWYOwhdnjpGYwxAz42c4tKyxATczRoH0u8nfu3nIdLvPFizp6ucmM2yz9bbhTmsyNwUtnlKclFt_nqZwd1W11aYmVnCJQrVWnwbVh8xKo/s1600/tnf+redpoint.jpg" height="320" width="273" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">North Face Redpoint Insulated Jacket</span></b><br />
Once again, hanging in my closet was a The North Face synthetic jacket. The model was the Redpoint filled with PrimaLoft, an exceptionally warm insulation fill. Not wanting to spend the money on another cold weather jacket, I took this one with me. It served me very well, the only drawback was its size and weight. It weighted 22 ozs. versus a Ghost Whisperer at 6 ozs. and wasn't readily compressible. <b>Weight: 22 oz.</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvl2mcYmpbO0Lo_DVRpz1lO7605vzNKRLOXjLxvvp3CsHh1xXwawCNomuNPP9YoOJBlsqs7aj8KwdmzoHxDC1qQ6ilm8sCoAetW_phwRSHhNjVEnEiVzm0eMm6J8_YPVaDJ6w-Atma_Fw/s1600/frogg+togg+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvl2mcYmpbO0Lo_DVRpz1lO7605vzNKRLOXjLxvvp3CsHh1xXwawCNomuNPP9YoOJBlsqs7aj8KwdmzoHxDC1qQ6ilm8sCoAetW_phwRSHhNjVEnEiVzm0eMm6J8_YPVaDJ6w-Atma_Fw/s1600/frogg+togg+-+Copy.jpg" height="320" width="319" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Frogg Togg Rain Jacket</span></b><br />
I had a lot of options here, but I finally chose the Frogg Togg based strictly on weight and price. Compared to more pricey and aesthetically looking rain jacket, the Frogg Togg is a Plain Jane, but it served its purpose. In the north Cascade Mountains in Washington, I often slept in the jacket in an effort to provide extra warmth. It only lasted one season and was discarded. <b>Weight: less than 4 oz.</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3st9LVfHwWKu-OkmUS5ikjBVZlW4MyCsTguKODQhbXP80gxRLqwNmz05Ve7lLfjm9n5ng5Bw5AzX5uEcRLmAAbny6O1NpDzJjf3OVzldHOFLKmphPTvXE3Iccd-tZsDqy69RZln-94o/s1600/tnf+rain+pant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3st9LVfHwWKu-OkmUS5ikjBVZlW4MyCsTguKODQhbXP80gxRLqwNmz05Ve7lLfjm9n5ng5Bw5AzX5uEcRLmAAbny6O1NpDzJjf3OVzldHOFLKmphPTvXE3Iccd-tZsDqy69RZln-94o/s1600/tnf+rain+pant.jpg" height="320" width="297" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">The North Face Venture Rain Pants </span></b><br />
Having owned an outfitting store in St. George, Utah, I ended up with a lot of The North Face product in my drawers and closets. Rain pants are a prime example. I took with me The North Face Venture Rain Pant. They were wind and waterproof. Additional features included an elasticized waist with drawstring, zippered cuffs for ease in slipping over shoes and loop and hook taps for sealing out mud and moisture. I can recommend the product. <b>Weight: 7.9 oz.</b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6wx2o5VALMsN3jR0u45IjrA3K84zryX6cCdDl5SV6v9p9cFNh5jYpLq_yjhrINvqO1-RCzqluQApgWTUrosoWyzwC-dW1EgONxkSHHAICHV5upKgMLPecxREvmS6RjoV5rt6Al3wOv8/s1600/Mt+Hardware++++3+Dome+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6wx2o5VALMsN3jR0u45IjrA3K84zryX6cCdDl5SV6v9p9cFNh5jYpLq_yjhrINvqO1-RCzqluQApgWTUrosoWyzwC-dW1EgONxkSHHAICHV5upKgMLPecxREvmS6RjoV5rt6Al3wOv8/s1600/Mt+Hardware++++3+Dome+-+Copy.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Mountain Hardware Dome Perignon Fleece Hat</span></b><br />
Because I have an REI store two miles from my home, I tried on a lot of cold weather hats before making a selection. My preference was the Mountain Hardware Dome Perignon, a fleece hat that pulled down snug over my ears. It's made with sweater fleece, has an anti-pilling face, and is lined with windproof fabric to protect against chilly winter breezes. It has a stretch insert at the back of the head providing for a perfect fit, and the fleece lined ear band felt good against my ears.<b> Weight: 3 oz.</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZnG9pFCmVExol_Vpp8NNn8G6BgVFoUVmXLYF4qbZj7ooR0N75XJ4Tj6RENPbw7LtXQtTgznH7zAdGmfPOVbqcPRRVQlDfswuTXQitZR57lpUIHbNer8bgt5sFy0IJWsycvvuFOrGr_eU/s1600/Fox+River+Mitten+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZnG9pFCmVExol_Vpp8NNn8G6BgVFoUVmXLYF4qbZj7ooR0N75XJ4Tj6RENPbw7LtXQtTgznH7zAdGmfPOVbqcPRRVQlDfswuTXQitZR57lpUIHbNer8bgt5sFy0IJWsycvvuFOrGr_eU/s1600/Fox+River+Mitten+-+Copy.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Fox River Winter Gloves</span></b><br />
I've never had much success with gloves with fingers. Invariably, after prolonged exposure, my fingers get cold. For some time now, I've been wearing Fox River wool mittens. I like them because I can rub my fingers together for warmth, or curl my hand into a ball for the same purpose. Likewise, I have access to my fingers for taking pictures, undoing zippers, getting snacks - all without having to take my gloves off. Yes, they do get wet, but even so, the wool still gives a modicum of warmth under the most trying of circumstances. For the AT, I'm going to have a pair of waterproof shells made for them. <b>Weight: 4.4 oz.</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8pNyv_EYfB3ECPXPIqtiVVklYfLM4HJvEU4EMGz0opvRO8GgCintjQiVH2jm-sj1ulZEwcx9Odu8E7-rcQkArOPklZD2YANCuE6284QvgT7kMm8D24_gaYKvc705wZDiY2ABDihM7F3M/s1600/explorer+hat+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8pNyv_EYfB3ECPXPIqtiVVklYfLM4HJvEU4EMGz0opvRO8GgCintjQiVH2jm-sj1ulZEwcx9Odu8E7-rcQkArOPklZD2YANCuE6284QvgT7kMm8D24_gaYKvc705wZDiY2ABDihM7F3M/s1600/explorer+hat+-+Copy.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">REI Paddler Sun Hat</span></b><br />
Again, having the REI so close to my home, I was able to try on a lot of different styles of sun hats. The choice came down to price and looks. Some were dorky but all were functional. I went with the Paddler Hat which provided great protection from the sun in the California desert, and did fairly well in moderate rain. In Bend, OR my wife presented me with an official PCT ball cap hat and I wore it for the rest of the trail.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgaogVRZBvcAsFyfENKFi_0k9Gzu1zi9M068IxcGgLRYjJsH2g7_aVHbAX8_Q49pKEPtwPk4x8pmk0jEi6ccQaQ7ke7tnjjPK1vybByabAimjrD4NbkJmTcgAG7l_r-5YWPUcioFPhyphenhyphenbQ/s1600/PCT+Hat+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgaogVRZBvcAsFyfENKFi_0k9Gzu1zi9M068IxcGgLRYjJsH2g7_aVHbAX8_Q49pKEPtwPk4x8pmk0jEi6ccQaQ7ke7tnjjPK1vybByabAimjrD4NbkJmTcgAG7l_r-5YWPUcioFPhyphenhyphenbQ/s1600/PCT+Hat+-+Copy.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Official PCT Association Hat</span></b><br />
In Bend OR, my wife and daughter drove from Salt Lake City, Utah to spend a few days with me. My wife surprised me with a new PCT Association hat which I proudly wore for the rest of the trail journey.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKmcrh1ByTn4nc7VfkUgMYioxBoZPF0e9hH-DaF_rivg7KCInN_LulzTHkeUbsyvax057NNuf7tPeB3Bx7zVkG7yW1tOG1FA3063vYUpyYRw22enp5vOWRw-Fq9eSKaq4AM24NLg8Xwm4/s1600/eye+dropper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKmcrh1ByTn4nc7VfkUgMYioxBoZPF0e9hH-DaF_rivg7KCInN_LulzTHkeUbsyvax057NNuf7tPeB3Bx7zVkG7yW1tOG1FA3063vYUpyYRw22enp5vOWRw-Fq9eSKaq4AM24NLg8Xwm4/s1600/eye+dropper.jpg" height="238" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;">Eye Dropper Water Filter</b><br />
There are a number of water filter options: hand pump, squeeze bottle, pills, chemicals, bleach. I've used them all and decided to go with the simplest method, which for me was bleach contained in an eye dropper. Two drops per liter and let sit for 20 minutes to give the chlorine gas time to evaporate. I used this system throughout the course of the trail and had no problems. <b>Weight: .2 oz.</b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRIq5kziVPCXGAGyPi0_tcX1vuXkPrPCPZbYbuorQZC7-1CHeGH54buxc3W__J2IyRNREzzRn_vpion8WZOIfbC5u0qUGaQLwV4a0nO9ohyphenhyphennaLU-64sW8KYhDHQZCP94ejvNyfdOKEOc/s1600/headlamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRIq5kziVPCXGAGyPi0_tcX1vuXkPrPCPZbYbuorQZC7-1CHeGH54buxc3W__J2IyRNREzzRn_vpion8WZOIfbC5u0qUGaQLwV4a0nO9ohyphenhyphennaLU-64sW8KYhDHQZCP94ejvNyfdOKEOc/s1600/headlamp.jpg" height="127" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="color: #cc0000; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;">Head Lamps</b><br />
Head lamps were a constant source of irritation. I went through several brands and models: Petzel, Black Diamond, Princeton Tec. My issues with these units: switches would turn on in the pack, lamps were dim, items not well made. For the AT 2015 trek, I am taking a Black Diamond Spot - 130 lumens. It's suppose to be bright, well made with a switch that won't accidently turn on. Time will tell. <b>Weight: n/a</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBcuvTsZa9f-mwPA4aQ1EUiF28tyrct1LAjWjA_cFMIUSgR_R39X7iEUG8VyodQMwQXj6ULY3_4IK7w4Js3HfeDzsqw0KwMzUCN3sbheKckYrp2B3YSXnI29qBmUOlFWAqxlMj36GIr5k/s1600/platapus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBcuvTsZa9f-mwPA4aQ1EUiF28tyrct1LAjWjA_cFMIUSgR_R39X7iEUG8VyodQMwQXj6ULY3_4IK7w4Js3HfeDzsqw0KwMzUCN3sbheKckYrp2B3YSXnI29qBmUOlFWAqxlMj36GIr5k/s1600/platapus.jpg" height="320" width="160" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Platypus 2-Liter Collapsible Water container</span></b><br />
I carried one, 2-liter Platypus, collapsible water container inside my pack. This container, augmented the 1-liter, water bottles I would buy in the grocery stores. I had no problem with the container; it never leaked and the cap stayed on tight. <b>Weight: 1.1 oz</b>.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-sQLpSMySN2vlbc4o30B3oIsXTmeiyWs6I8SDssDoowHVqoWjd9z7l18w0-qIHKV3VOM0TzixlJaDUSSnN2LG7O2yLUijLWdvC9YUIXiUkdHmjvWBChGhyphenhyphennSmY8NHRJI1ri18SbT1Fa0/s1600/camelbak+lobo+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-sQLpSMySN2vlbc4o30B3oIsXTmeiyWs6I8SDssDoowHVqoWjd9z7l18w0-qIHKV3VOM0TzixlJaDUSSnN2LG7O2yLUijLWdvC9YUIXiUkdHmjvWBChGhyphenhyphennSmY8NHRJI1ri18SbT1Fa0/s1600/camelbak+lobo+-+Copy.jpg" height="320" width="235" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">CamelBak 100 oz. Reservoir</span></b><br />
I saw a few other hikers wearing Camelbaks on their chests, and liked the idea. I purchased the Lobo model, which is 3-liters. Carrying the water weight on my chest took that weight off my back which made a big difference. Likewise, the two zippered pouches gave me immediate access to snacks (candy) and a convenient place to store notebook and pen, sunglasses, maps and eating utensils. I won't use this pack on the AT, but will take it with me on the CDT and the Hayduke Trail. <b>Weight: n/a</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsnalTMr6u0hg4q4Arx-8qR5SfSu5N83Tf-QuGtq_py-Q3NPC7_5xafAKVywpVuxWJCfnh6wGve-gFSd5Y60DC3WeYHJJAaGIB_cQX4URDYiAHFUKoc_dfpCgTtlGlvJtvdShHyLgQAnY/s1600/holmes+glasses+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsnalTMr6u0hg4q4Arx-8qR5SfSu5N83Tf-QuGtq_py-Q3NPC7_5xafAKVywpVuxWJCfnh6wGve-gFSd5Y60DC3WeYHJJAaGIB_cQX4URDYiAHFUKoc_dfpCgTtlGlvJtvdShHyLgQAnY/s1600/holmes+glasses+-+Copy.jpg" height="320" width="319" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Home Depot - Mike Holmes Sunglasses</span></b><br />
This is my favorite. I lose and break sunglasses too often to bother buying expensive, polarizing, glasses. Now, I go to Home Depot and buy el Cheapos. But they are fashion designer ones - specifically Mike Holmes, the noted home renovator seen on TV.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKbXJvXvI7CBd3UUThQixX1Ip1ORB9j7GmtE2cGBARsWCzDZfnpzTf4KIX1yYintUBzSqw25yBTBk-A49cdj0c3eDovg8MKYeofzNRBfGSx2OBNBCUb5qUZdt7znDpqHEoUzYkLYCXsTg/s1600/swiss+army.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKbXJvXvI7CBd3UUThQixX1Ip1ORB9j7GmtE2cGBARsWCzDZfnpzTf4KIX1yYintUBzSqw25yBTBk-A49cdj0c3eDovg8MKYeofzNRBfGSx2OBNBCUb5qUZdt7znDpqHEoUzYkLYCXsTg/s1600/swiss+army.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Swiss Army Classic Knife</span></b><br />
When it comes to knives, small is better. I chose the Swiss Army Classic for its size and limited number of options. The only reason I needed a knife was to have a blade to open my packages, and cut hard salami and cheese and a pair of tweezers to extract slivers or thorns.Anything more would just have been extra weight.<br />
<b>Weight: 2 oz.</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS8-393V1Q1OvHIFHgBBVbmcZgEKboIqgHFLx3vZiDye1_7EngUlQIGgUQLg4wXXQRb37oGD7ToKZf0XPbHfUaxINpEmS_QAdRXbIeEGDnD1PTsB0GgVSkMv8h9RLcPh44enAxaIhAmog/s1600/spot+tracker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS8-393V1Q1OvHIFHgBBVbmcZgEKboIqgHFLx3vZiDye1_7EngUlQIGgUQLg4wXXQRb37oGD7ToKZf0XPbHfUaxINpEmS_QAdRXbIeEGDnD1PTsB0GgVSkMv8h9RLcPh44enAxaIhAmog/s1600/spot+tracker.jpg" height="320" width="268" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Spot Tracking Devise</span></b><br />
It was at my wife's insistence that I took the Spot tracking device with me. Yet with it, she was able to track my daily location almost in real time. When the option tracking is turned on, the unit sends out a location signal to an overhead satellite that in turns bounces it back to earth. Eventually the signal shows up as a small dot on a Google Map that my wife can pull up on her computer and watch me walk. I could run, but I couldn't hide. Additionally, in an emergency, I can send out an SOS signal and the local search and rescue unit will be notified which is usually the county sheriff. Downside: when tracking is turned on, Lithium batteries only lasted about four days.<b> Weight: 3.2 oz.</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjcpA9-IhkKYsVEjWg6DkUG2vPZb4CGyngp3U0Z9NlZfIeb3E4zL-iESoBiwRu6kP5-o7D4awwNurdbhUBLTXkiQX3MKy3YkvlYHVSLdGj-scgND-_rqb45A12Rs_d1QMUcNrNaOXUlh4/s1600/cannon+camera+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjcpA9-IhkKYsVEjWg6DkUG2vPZb4CGyngp3U0Z9NlZfIeb3E4zL-iESoBiwRu6kP5-o7D4awwNurdbhUBLTXkiQX3MKy3YkvlYHVSLdGj-scgND-_rqb45A12Rs_d1QMUcNrNaOXUlh4/s1600/cannon+camera+-+Copy.jpg" height="276" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Cannon PowerShot SX 200 IS Camera</span></b><br />
For several years now, I have been using a Cannon PowerShot SX200 IS. I kept this camera in my pants pocket throughout the trip. It took great pictures, and periodically I would remove the SD card and send it home to my wife who in turn would post the images to my computer. In my resupply boxes, I would then receive a new SD card. For future trips, I will be using a wi-fi SD card in the camera, which will automatically send the images to my smartphone which in turn will automatically send the photos to my Dropbox account. Then, from the trail, whenever I have a wi-fi connection, I can access my photos and place them with the text of my blog. I won't have to wait until I'm home to do this. <b>Weight: Carried in front pant pocket.</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4IooOPk0FGmW3AJxG9seS3ID8mlTiX9_avpjNoaLOz37Xmarf_LVeVk_2fbbmyHroSOq2gNKTwa7lCIHnz5ec0z_eDli9J8cRLGrmXQIZejq2_vKG0D1KqpR06aju7ZJYeZlraJa-KY/s1600/droid+phone+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4IooOPk0FGmW3AJxG9seS3ID8mlTiX9_avpjNoaLOz37Xmarf_LVeVk_2fbbmyHroSOq2gNKTwa7lCIHnz5ec0z_eDli9J8cRLGrmXQIZejq2_vKG0D1KqpR06aju7ZJYeZlraJa-KY/s1600/droid+phone+-+Copy.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Version Droid Smart Phone</span></b><br />
I use a Samsung Droid smart phone. It takes quality pictures. After downloading Guthook's app for the various trails, I can use it for navigation. I carry an extra battery for it, as well as a recharging unit called New Trent. On the trail, I keep the phone in Airplane mode, to conserve battery power. <b>Weight: Carried in front pant pocket.</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDWkGHz4d0fErxHfDShlywhrEDW4dCF-YQpYShb7yyaf_LJDwbZGRrQ8t9eqjNCpShxSsu_YqH8P0pJRZVABzN3UBLAf_vI-FeAF-on4_eeceo0c2v-ONecf6JBfzhn459-5Vz8Pw2xSg/s1600/leki+poles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDWkGHz4d0fErxHfDShlywhrEDW4dCF-YQpYShb7yyaf_LJDwbZGRrQ8t9eqjNCpShxSsu_YqH8P0pJRZVABzN3UBLAf_vI-FeAF-on4_eeceo0c2v-ONecf6JBfzhn459-5Vz8Pw2xSg/s1600/leki+poles.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Leik Trekking Poles</span></b><br />
Choosing a trekking pole seemed to be a hit or miss proposition. They all do the same job, it was just a matter of choosing from the options, which were: material - carbon fiber or aluminum, anti-shock or not, twist lock or snap lock, cork handles or rubber handles. I chose aluminum, anti-shock, rubber grip, twist lock poles for about $69.00. The aluminum never broke, the twist lock never collapsed, and the spring loaded anti-shock didn't fail. <b> Weight: n/a</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4FBnPFulZ_JfMeIhLfuRS6l4uOfkpU_1yumJi7htiSYwhxZtExRZTMVA3sjQQYSmgGtQWsAb2Kepto-mPiLvb02fZPMDLFHBlkQy4lsgeY1R4cJF3o7C8rAoERr8wMenAEE4o4aZtRV0/s1600/ipod+shuffle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4FBnPFulZ_JfMeIhLfuRS6l4uOfkpU_1yumJi7htiSYwhxZtExRZTMVA3sjQQYSmgGtQWsAb2Kepto-mPiLvb02fZPMDLFHBlkQy4lsgeY1R4cJF3o7C8rAoERr8wMenAEE4o4aZtRV0/s1600/ipod+shuffle.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">iPod Shuffle Music device</span></b><br />
For the majority of the trip, I had only my thoughts to keep me company. And that was fine; I had a lot of things to think about, and I enjoy my company. But after a while, I really got tired of the voices in my head. I often had argumentative conversation with people in my past, and of course, I always won the argument. By Bend, OR, I longed for something else. I asked my wife to send me a small, inexpensive iPod devise called a Shuffle, with some music downloaded on it. I received it at the Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood. It eased the strain of having to listen to myself all day long. <b>Weight: 1 oz.</b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTy9D5F-ZdGHETM9eo_bym23WDxs-7BFx-xwaOJegesM6HLMGlD2vJ4lfZSr8BfWEUjRQQZrw-wQmYekjsl6vR6JtnNbLgVCLqxlzegpI7y_0iKrfdWGQbu4I8OJmcTZXtju9eNEy8ICA/s1600/gps+garmin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTy9D5F-ZdGHETM9eo_bym23WDxs-7BFx-xwaOJegesM6HLMGlD2vJ4lfZSr8BfWEUjRQQZrw-wQmYekjsl6vR6JtnNbLgVCLqxlzegpI7y_0iKrfdWGQbu4I8OJmcTZXtju9eNEy8ICA/s1600/gps+garmin.jpg" height="299" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Garmin GPS</span></b><br />
Not having a clue as to what would be needed navigational wise for the PCT, I purchased a high-end Garmin GPSmap 62s, as well as the Garmin Nat Geo maps for the Western US and had them downloaded into the GPS. With Half Mile's help, I downloaded his track and waypoints onto the maps. I used the GPS throughout the duration of the trek,but I also had Guthooks PCT apps downloaded into my phone. When Guthook's app ceased to work, I was grateful to have the GPS, although I used it more to pinpoint my mileage on the trail, in relationship to where I wanted to be, rather than for navigational purposes. <b>Weight: n/a</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_PtoT0BaSVym13BEC5Bxv3yoiYunlBo9r-FqwNE8eVgM-OWwS9AoWEzNcI1zcDs2VIRf7QTDshkprF0XTa-1I7IHItcqM8kiG55DQx1UqujVohrmWx5EfluVUXVri-vqC6xGSRJ4SWXE/s1600/satellite+phone+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_PtoT0BaSVym13BEC5Bxv3yoiYunlBo9r-FqwNE8eVgM-OWwS9AoWEzNcI1zcDs2VIRf7QTDshkprF0XTa-1I7IHItcqM8kiG55DQx1UqujVohrmWx5EfluVUXVri-vqC6xGSRJ4SWXE/s1600/satellite+phone+-+Copy.jpg" height="320" width="211" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Satellite Phone</span></b><br />
When a local communication's company offered to let me take a satellite phone with me on the trail, in exchange for doing a live broadcast once a week, my wife insisted that I take it. I did, and on occasion it was nice to have it when I had no cell phone reception, but it wasn't necessary and it just added weight. <b>Weight: with phone, spare battery, charger and carrying case, about 1 lb.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifS6S-PN-0ci0BjGAEbB2HxNeLk8211gvU0XkVRAxXt60F0QUGmP1zfbsNhPoKL-9TQMrLJqA7w8Uohdz1LdE1IItnbib8wojWvi97dvSXd99aYNY_CxU0etJpVlyqWy-YEjCL4T4iwis/s1600/snap+on+lid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifS6S-PN-0ci0BjGAEbB2HxNeLk8211gvU0XkVRAxXt60F0QUGmP1zfbsNhPoKL-9TQMrLJqA7w8Uohdz1LdE1IItnbib8wojWvi97dvSXd99aYNY_CxU0etJpVlyqWy-YEjCL4T4iwis/s1600/snap+on+lid.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Stoveless</span></b><br />
I carried no stove with me, even though I had several soda pop can stoves and a JetBoil. I was stoveless for the entire five months. All of my dinner meals, and several of my breakfast ones only needed to be hydrated, and that could be done with cold water as well as hot water. An hour or two before I wanted a meal, I would place the contents in a plastic bowl, with a snap-on lid, along with the requisite amount of liquid, seal and wait. <b>Weight: 2 oz.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-71804383077006723802015-01-29T11:17:00.000-08:002015-02-17T13:29:20.629-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Richard "Rabbit Stick" Jones</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span> </span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<b>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr7rq1Q7rnT23cDmVBSePubgxPTHCDP77TcFee_FI1uWrZjCZuCIch3-5Cmg2CSZZbm1v7uY1gB1nbcMvDgi3BpQrqzeTmr7530hyphenhyphenwik8bcGPsHIpVHWlea387fyOsmLsfzR62RSSVF3g/s1600/IMG_0573.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr7rq1Q7rnT23cDmVBSePubgxPTHCDP77TcFee_FI1uWrZjCZuCIch3-5Cmg2CSZZbm1v7uY1gB1nbcMvDgi3BpQrqzeTmr7530hyphenhyphenwik8bcGPsHIpVHWlea387fyOsmLsfzR62RSSVF3g/s1600/IMG_0573.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li><b><span style="font-size: large;">Gender:</span></b> <span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;">Male </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Married:</b> <span style="color: #45818e;">Jodie H. Jones</span></span></li>
<li><b><span style="font-size: large;">Current Age:</span></b><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"> 72</span></li>
<li><b><span style="font-size: large;">Professional Career:</span></b> <b><span style="color: #134f5c;">Whitewater Tour Operator with operations on the Green and Colorado Rivers in Utah and the Main Salmon River in Idaho.</span></b></li>
<li><b><span style="font-size: large;">Place of Residency:</span><span style="color: #134f5c;"> Salt Lake City, Utah</span></b></li>
<li><b><span style="font-size: large;">Work Status: </span><span style="color: #134f5c;">Retired from river running, but not from life.</span></b></li>
<li><b><span style="font-size: large;">Hobbies:</span><span style="color: #6aa84f;"> </span><span style="color: #134f5c;">Long distance hiking, family history (genealogy), Model A Ford restoration</span></b></li>
<li><b><span style="font-size: large;">Children:</span></b><b> <span style="color: #134f5c;">Four</span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">;</span></b><b><span style="font-size: large;"> Grandchildren:</span></b> <b><span style="color: #134f5c;">Eight</span></b></li>
<li><b><span style="font-size: large;">Email Address:<span style="color: #741b47;"> </span></span></b><span style="color: #741b47;">richard@trailmagic1.com</span></li>
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /> </span></ul>
Hello friends,<br />
After completing the 2600 mile Pacific Crest Trail in 2013, I decided to start a blog, to record my experiences as a long distance hiker, as well as make mention of some of my other adventures. As I write, I am completing my preparation to hike the Appalachian Trail beginning in the spring of 2015.<br />
<br />
I began running rivers at age 14. My first trips were on the Colorado River, through Glen Canyon, now Lake Powell. The rivers were so fascinating for me, that after four years of college, I decided to make river running my life's profession. I quit school, incorporated a river company with the name of <a href="http://www.worldwideriver.com/" target="_blank">World Wide River Expeditions</a>, with operations centered in Moab, Utah and commenced an action packed, roller coaster ride of adventure that lasted well over 30 years. As a company, we added mountain bike tours to our offering of wilderness experiences. In 1988, I appropriated one of these bikes and rode it cross-country, from the Pacific to the Atlantic. This endeavor took four summers.<br />
<br />
The bike ride was an incredible experience, a wonderful way to see rural America up close. If the Atlantic Ocean hadn't been there, I would have continued my ride on to England and Ireland; but the ocean was there and I could go no farther. In my mind, I thought to myself, Richard, you know how to row a boat, why don't you just build a row boat, and row it across the ocean and complete the bicycle journey. And so I did.<br />
<br />
With the help of a yacht designer in London, England, who supplied me with plans for a boat, I spent three years in my workshop building a very high-tech, ocean going rowboat, and launched it off the coast of Portugal in the fall of 1998. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEIHYnKn26HSD5efLRVGdFkHZj1oEzHhyphenhyphent2vIqhdX_V_6GLzCKYC9a67rorWgLJdLRH_sN3z6nVHrY8Wg1kRVWILnXvYQ6NSc7u_BMZXrzOV5v0rdUbsTl5CfdUd_JZNkAAgwyz9MRve8/s1600/Richard+Row.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEIHYnKn26HSD5efLRVGdFkHZj1oEzHhyphenhyphent2vIqhdX_V_6GLzCKYC9a67rorWgLJdLRH_sN3z6nVHrY8Wg1kRVWILnXvYQ6NSc7u_BMZXrzOV5v0rdUbsTl5CfdUd_JZNkAAgwyz9MRve8/s1600/Richard+Row.jpg" height="423" width="640" /></a></div>
Hurricane storms were still battering the Portugal coast, making progress south towards the Canary Island precarious. I pulled the boat off the ocean and elected to try another time.<br />
<br />
In the fall of 2000, I shipped the boat back across the Atlantic, this time to the Canary Islands. I launched from the Canaries and began a 4,000 mile journey across the ocean - with Miami, Florida being the destination. As fate would have it, I was shipwrecked on a little island in the Bahamas, only 400 miles from Miami, when the boat overturned and all the electrical equipment, equipment that was vital to the success of the journey, was destroyed. I was rescued from the island by a passing freighter.<br />
<br />
In 2000, just before leaving for the ocean, I sold the river business to my Moab managers. After the ocean voyage, I opened an online store, along with a retail store, to sell outdoor camping and backpacking equipment. When my lovely wife Jodie was accepted as a doctoral candidate at the University of Utah, I shut down the stores and moved back to Salt Lake. Now I hike, and restore Model A Fords.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_QXdApj-Mye0SyWv9Mledhjr-YWXy4lJgvyKvbHV2TMooxoH3OrkF7q8hZ3etT8s-UQ4lxqP6PPTcFWzWlpvKSsgpDb9QjrEAQK6VklD2q_4Fbt6_lRkZ3mjHTCNLivxcmkhQghtPgk/s1600/Phaeton+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_QXdApj-Mye0SyWv9Mledhjr-YWXy4lJgvyKvbHV2TMooxoH3OrkF7q8hZ3etT8s-UQ4lxqP6PPTcFWzWlpvKSsgpDb9QjrEAQK6VklD2q_4Fbt6_lRkZ3mjHTCNLivxcmkhQghtPgk/s1600/Phaeton+2.jpg" height="481" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
I found this car in Hawaii and had it shipped to Los Angeles where I picked <span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">it up. It's a 1931, Model A Ford Phaeton. It is to be my wife Jodie's graduation </span><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">present when she graduates from the University of Utah with her Doctorate in </span><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">communications.</span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxykTzkF5QIdcxLWhQarq14171PV3C41f1WfHURUiVKN04LROarGHpZ7yS7ZmOINqp0u3wDdP3K7x6nfzNzEI8BG7ihznhhlTmVthmgaYu-Lz_KgupLrrsmWKXvg9-3gLEzRUBMt6vTic/s1600/Phaeton+-+Finished+product.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxykTzkF5QIdcxLWhQarq14171PV3C41f1WfHURUiVKN04LROarGHpZ7yS7ZmOINqp0u3wDdP3K7x6nfzNzEI8BG7ihznhhlTmVthmgaYu-Lz_KgupLrrsmWKXvg9-3gLEzRUBMt6vTic/s1600/Phaeton+-+Finished+product.jpg" height="481" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">This is what the 1931 Phaeton will look like when fully restored.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxtJ0d4nBG_kX9czbQ1MdvavzktRiSqk2zzptA0Doj1jK7EHY7gvRPHfABtHK5hkUMj4q0jvQ1lvx3qwlx6mcWJ1dwAzFBzNKahVuO1S8jewYmxF6zIaY4ysDXT4MGCKwui9w2rVrUqM/s1600/2014-11-21+12.11.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxtJ0d4nBG_kX9czbQ1MdvavzktRiSqk2zzptA0Doj1jK7EHY7gvRPHfABtHK5hkUMj4q0jvQ1lvx3qwlx6mcWJ1dwAzFBzNKahVuO1S8jewYmxF6zIaY4ysDXT4MGCKwui9w2rVrUqM/s1600/2014-11-21+12.11.27.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
This is a 1931, Model A Ford 5-window Coupe, I purchased in 1966. This <span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">year - 2015 could be the year that it finally gets finished. These projects take </span><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">time and patience to finish.</span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ux_GNZdNCa0p2PNQyV0kD-gREUbIdkP1EppSb5Jqt9d5GByzd-x-SI87e4RBSPQXj8mNpwx9yxJ0Ojf_h_rxnzDRdhwQ6eLDF9D2-tBJ2nBW9ORUKdXEhjeQZWj1Ss83CuSK__ch13k/s1600/IMG_0754.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ux_GNZdNCa0p2PNQyV0kD-gREUbIdkP1EppSb5Jqt9d5GByzd-x-SI87e4RBSPQXj8mNpwx9yxJ0Ojf_h_rxnzDRdhwQ6eLDF9D2-tBJ2nBW9ORUKdXEhjeQZWj1Ss83CuSK__ch13k/s1600/IMG_0754.JPG" height="481" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Atlanta, Georgia, a warehouse full of perfectly restored Model A Fords. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="text-align: left;">My hiking goal is to become a triple-crowner. I completed the Pacific Crest Trail in 2013 and this year, 2015 will give me the Appalachian Trail, and next summer, 2016 I'll start the Continental Divide Trail - New Mexico to Canada, only 3,000 miles. My ultimate hiking goal is to complete the 800 mile Hayduke Trail that traverses the Red Rock country and canyons of southern Utah and northern Arizona. I considered the Hayduke Trail to be the most brutal and hazardous trail to navigate.</span></div>
<br />
As a side note, I like kittens and a peanut butter and apricot/pineapple jam sandwich is my favorite meal.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-36884867775695098032013-09-28T08:30:00.000-07:002015-03-03T14:17:26.884-08:00Part 212 - Bibliography<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Bibliography<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Adamson, H., & McHugh,
J. (n.d.). Retrieved September 22, 2014, from </span><a href="http://www.allmusic.com/song/comin-in-on-a-wing-and-a-prayer-mt0003900067/lyrics"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">http://www.allmusic.com/song/comin-in-on-a-wing-and-a-prayer-mt0003900067/lyrics</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Alexander, C. (1998). <i>The
Endurance: Shackleton's legendary Antarctic expedition</i>. New York: Knopf</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Alexandra, J. (2009, August 31). Station fire claims 18
homes and two fighters. Retrieved September 20, 2014, from articles.latimes.com/2009/aug/31/local/me-fire31<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Amundsen, R. (2014,
September 18). Retrieved September 20, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roald_Amundsen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Amundsen, R., & Chater,
A. (1913). <i>The South pole; an account of the Norwegian Antarctic expedition
in the "Fram,"
1910-1912,</i>. London: J. Murray;.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Auhenticmaya. (2011, January
28). Retrieved September 20, 2014, from http://www.authenticmaya.com/maya_cosmology.htm<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Belleville California -
Waiting for the Mother Lode. (n.d.). Retrieved September 20, 2014, from </span><a href="http://www.legendsofamerica.com/ca-holcombvalley.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">www.legendsofamerica.com/ca-holcombvalley.html</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Benson, L. (2013, May 28).
69 Year old Richard Jones attempts hike from Mexico to Canada. Retrieved
September 20, 2014, from </span><a href="http://www.deseretnews.com/article/865580680/69-year-old-Richard-Jones-attempts-hike-from-Mexico-to-Canada.html?pg=all"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">http://www.deseretnews.com/article/865580680/69-year-old-Richard-Jones-attempts-hike-from-Mexico-to-Canada.html?pg=all</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Benson, L. (2000, December
1). <i>Deseret News Lee Benson Column</i></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">BNSF railway skykomish
facility. (2013, January 1). Retrieved September 23, 2014, from https://fortress.wa.gov/ecy/gsp/Sitepage.aspx?csid=34<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Bogue, V. (1881, January 1).
Naming of the pass. Retrieved September 23, 2014, from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stampede_Pass (W.P. Bonney,
Secretary, Washington State<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Bonney, W. (1881, February
1). Naming of the pass. Retrieved September 23, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stampede_Pass</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Bromstein, E. (n.d.). Thirty
jobs with weird, futuristic sounding titles. Retrieved September 23, 2014, from
http://www.workopolis.com/content/advice/article/30-futuristic-sounding-job-titles/</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Clelland, M. (2011). Know
the Lingo. In <i>Ultralight backpackin' tips: 153 amazing & inexpensive
tips for extremely lightweight camping</i>
(p. 5). Guilford, CT: FalconGuides.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Clark, D.,
& Gale, M. (1997). <i>Puppies for sale, and other inspirational tales a
"litter" of stories & anecdotes that hug the heart & snuggle the soul</i>. Deerfield Beach, Fla.:
Health Communications.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Coyote, P. (1996, June 8).
The Diggers Archive. Retrieved September 23, 2014, from http://www.diggers.org/freefall/elsa.html</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Doctrine and covenants of
the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints ; The Pearl of great price.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> (p.
D&C 38:30). (1981). Salt Lake
City, Utah, U.S.A.: Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Doctrine and Covenants of
the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints The Pearl of great price.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;"> (pp.
D&C 121:7-8). (1981). Salt Lake
City: Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day saints.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Drakesbad Guest Ranch.
(n.d.). Retrieved September 22, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drakesbad_Guest_Ranch</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Drury, G. (2000). <i>The
historical guide to North American railroads</i> (2nd ed., pp. 293-294).
Waukesha, WI: Kalmbach Books.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Dunsmuir. (n.d.). Retrieved
September 23, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dunsmuir,_California</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">East Peoria, Illnois.
(n.d.). Retrieved September 20, 2014, from </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_Peoria,_Illinois#cite_note-11"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_Peoria,_Illinois#cite_note-11</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Erwin, J. (n.d.).
Declarations of Independence. Retrieved September 23, 2014, from </span><a href="http://www.jeffersonstate.com/jeffersonstory.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">www.jeffersonstate.com/jeffersonstory.html</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Fisher, M., & Fisher, J.
(1957). <i>Shackleton</i>. London: Barrie.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Gray, W. (1975). <i>The
Pacific Crest Trail</i> (pp. 110-111). Washington: National Geographic Society.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Gray, W. (1975). <i>The
Pacific Crest Trail</i> (p. 184). Washington: National Geographic Society.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Geologic history. (n.d.).
Retrieved September 23, 2014, from http://oe.oregonexplorer.info/craterlake/geology.html</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Hastings, L., & Carey,
C. (1932). <i>The emigrants' guide to Oregon and California</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Hill, R. (1999, September
29). New look at an old landslide. Retrieved September 23, 2014, from http://landslides.usgs.gov/recent/archives/1999bonneville.php</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Historic Columbia river
highway. (n.d.). Retrieved December 23, 2014, from </span><a href="http://www.columbiariverhighway.com/columbia_river_highway_history.htm"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">http://www.columbiariverhighway.com/columbia_river_highway_history.htm</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Howard, C.
(1992, January 1). Handcart companies. Retrieved September 24, 2014, from http://eom.byu.edu/index.php/Handcart_Companies</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">James 1:5. (1979). In <i>Holy
Bible</i>. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Jones, Raymond F., The
School, Astounding Stories, Campbell, 1954<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Jones, R. (1962). <i>The
Cybernetic Brain</i>. New York: Avalon Books.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Jones, R. (1975). <i>The
king of Eolim</i>. Don Mills, Ontario: Harlequin Enterprises Lim <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Journals of lewis and clark.
(n.d.). Retrieved September 23, 2014, from http://www.lewisandclarktrail.com/section4/orcities/portland/rapids/index.htm
ited<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span lang="DE-CH" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: DE-CH;">Kimball,
E. (n.d.). Heber C. Kimball. </span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Retrieved September 19, 2014, from http://eom.byu.edu/index.php/Kimball,_Heber_C.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Kimball, R. (2012, September
7). Campo, California, A brief history. Retrieved September 18, 2014.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Kirk. (n.d.). ADF druidism
and me. Retrieved September 23, 2014, from http://www.druidkirk.org/druid/index.html</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Lehmann, H., & Hunter,
J. (1993). <i>Nine years among the Indians, 1870-1879 the story of the
captivity and life of a Texan among the Indians</i> (p. 21). Albuquerque, N.M.:
University of New Mexico Press.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Lewis, C. (1901, May 1). The
disappearance of mount mazama. Retrieved September 23, 2014, from </span><a href="http://gesswhoto.com/mt.mazama.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">http://gesswhoto.com/mt.mazama.html</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Macintosh, H. (1999,
February 22). Stampede pass. Retrieved September 23, 2014, from </span><a href="http://www.historylink.org/index.cfm?DisplayPage=output.cfm&file_id=931"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">http://www.historylink.org/index.cfm?DisplayPage=output.cfm&file_id=931</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Mark 9:23. (1979). In <i>Holy
Bible</i>. Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mark Twain quotes. (n.d.).
Retrieved September 20, 2014, from http://thinkexist.com/quotation/i-m_glad_i_did_it</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">partly_because_it_was_worth_it/166444.html</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">McDonnell, J. (2011).
ADZPCTKO - "The Kick OFF" In <i>Yogi's PCT handbook, Planning Guide</i>
(p. 39). Shawnee Mission, KS: Yogi's
Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">McDonnell, J. (2014). <i>Yogi's
PCT handbook, Trail Tips and Town Guide</i>. Shawnee Mission, KS: Yogi's Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Michelson, M. (2012,
November 14). Tunnel Vision. <i>Outside Magazine</i></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Moses 1:33, Salt Lake City,
LDS, 1999<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Most Popular Titles With
Location Matching "Vasquez Rocks Natural Area Park. (n.d.). Retrieved
September 20, 2014, from http://www.imdb.com/search/title?endings=on&&locations=Vasquez
Rocks Natural Area Park - 10700 W. Escondido Canyon Rd., Agua Dulce,
California, USA&&heading=18;with locations including;Vasquez Rocks
Natural Area Park <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Murphy, R. (n.d.) North
American Rails . Retrieved September 20, 2014,
from </span><a href="http://www.northamericanrails.com/bnsf_-_cajon_pass/cajon_pass_-_sullivans_curve_area"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">http://www.northamericanrails.com/bnsf_-_cajon_pass/cajon_pass_-_sullivans_curve_area</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Olsen, A.,
& Allphin, J. (2013). <i>Follow me to Zion: Stories from the Willie
Handcart Pioneers</i> (pp. 92-93). Salt Lake
City: Deseret Book.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Origin of the lemuria
legend. (n.d.). Retrieved September 23, 201, from http://www.siskiyous.edu/Shasta/fol/lem/index.htm</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Ormsby, W., & Wright, L.
(1942). <i>The Butterfield overland mail,</i>. San Marino, Calif.: The
Huntington library.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Oxford Dictionary. (n.d.).
Retrieved September 24, 2014, from http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/mettle</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Petiqura, E., Howard, A.,
& Marcey, G. (2013, November 26). Prevalence of earth-size planets orbiting
sun-size star. <i>National Academy of Science</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Poe, E. (2005, November 30).
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Raven. Retrieved September 20, 2014, from http://www.gutenberg.org/files/17192/17192-h/17192-h.htm
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Port of cascade locks.
(n.d.). Retrieved September 23, 2014, from http://portofcascadelocks.org/</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Randy Miller's Predators in
Action. (n.d.). Retrieved September 20, 2014, from
http://www.predatorsinaction.com/<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Raytheon Company: Customer
Success Is Our Mission. (n.d.). Retrieved September 20, 2014, from raytheon.com/capabilities/products/tow_family<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Relative
Finder. (n.d.). Retrieved September 28, 2014, from http://roots-fb.cs.byu.edu/</span><b><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Riffenburgh, B. (2004). <i>Shackleton's
forgotten expedition: The voyage of the Nimrod</i> (p. 107). New York:
Bloomsbury Roosevelt, T. (1917, January 1). Citizenship in a republc. <i>Kansas
City Star</i>, p. 4.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Sahagun, L. (2012, April 7).
Reforestation not taking hold on land burned by Station fire. Retrieved
September 20, 2014, from </span><a href="http://articles.latimes.com/2012/apr/07/local/la-me-dead-trees-20120408"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">http://articles.latimes.com/2012/apr/07/local/la-me-dead-trees-20120408</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Sarmento, I. (2013) (I’m Fine)
Personal Conversation, used with permission<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Schaffer, J. (2004). <i>The
Pacific Crest Trail</i> (7th ed., Vol. 2, p. 199). Berkeley, CA: Wilderness
Press.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Schaffer, J. (2004). <i>The
Pacific Crest Trail</i> (7th ed., Vol. 2, p. 268). Berkeley, CA: Wilderness
Press<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Schaffer, J., & Selters,
A. (2004). <i>The Pacific Crest Trail - Oregon & Washington</i> (7th ed.,
Vol. 3, p. 135). Berk</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">eley,
CA: Wilderness Press.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Schaffer, J., & Selters,
A. (2004). <i>The Pacific Crest Trail - Oregon & Washington</i> (7th ed.,
Vol. 3, p. 302). Berkeley, CA:
Wilderness Press.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Schaffer, J., & Selters,
A. (2004). <i>The Pacific Crest Trail - Oregon & Washington</i> (7th ed.,
Vol. 3, p. 310). Berkeley, CA:
Wilderness Press.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Schifrin, B Schaffer, J.;
Willett, T., (2004). <i>The Pacific Crest Trail</i> (7th ed., Vol. 1, p. 158).
Berkeley, CA: Wilderness Press.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Schifrin, B Schaffer, J;.;
Willett, T., (2004). <i>The Pacific Crest Trail</i> (7th ed., Vol. 1, p. 191).
Berkeley, CA: Wilderness Press.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Schifrin, B Schaffer, J;.;
Willett, T., (2004). <i>The Pacific Crest Trail</i> (7th ed., Vol. 1, p. 277).
Berkeley, CA: Wilderness Press.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Sego Lilly. (n.d.).
Retrieved September 22, 2014, from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calochortus_nuttallii</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Shaw, F. (2004). <i>Locating
Air Force base sites: History's legacy</i>. Washington D.C.: Air Force History
and Museums Program, United States
Air Force.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Shettle, M. (n.d.). Historic
California Posts. Retrieved September 22, 2014, from </span><a href="http://californiamilitaryhistory.org/MCASMojave.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">http://californiamilitaryhistory.org/MCASMojave.html</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Slate peak
lookout. (n.d.). Retrieved September 24, 2014, from
www.firelookout.com/wa/slate.html</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Stanton, R. (n.d.).
Hoskaninni Papers. Retrieved September 20, 2014, from 4 </span><a href="http://www.riverguides.org/History/HoskaninniPapersCrampton1961Opt.pdf"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">www.riverguides.org/History/HoskaninniPapersCrampton1961Opt.pdf</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Stewart, G. (1960). <i>Ordeal
by hunger; the story of the Donner Party.</i> (New ed.). Boston: Houghton
Mifflin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Stone, S. (n.d.). Hippy time
line. Retrieved September 23, 2014, from http://www.hippy.com/timeline.htm</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Stringham Schools - Premier
Real Estate Schools. (n.d.). Retrieved September 20, 2014, from </span><a href="http://stringhamschools.com/"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">http://stringhamschools.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Timberline lodge. (n.d.).
Retrieved September 23, 2014, from </span><a href="http://www.historichotels.org/hotels-"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">http://www.historichotels.org/hotels-</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">resorts/timberline-lodge/history.php</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tuburcio Vasquez. (n.d.).
Retrieved September 20, 2014, from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiburcio_Vásquez<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">TrainWeb.org. (n.d.).
Retrieved September 20, 2014, from trainweb.org/cajongroup/Part3.pdf<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">United States Army Airborne
School. (n.d.). Retrieved September 22, 2014, from </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Army_Airborne_School"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Army_Airborne_School</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Wagner, B. (n.d.). Nash
rambler history. Retrieved September 23, 2014, from http://www.amcrc.com/feature/nr.html<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 200%;">Washington, T. (2001,
February 6). Smoking the great outdoors. Retrieved September 23, 2014, from http://www.salon.com/2001/02/06/moab/</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Water and Power Associates.
(n.d.). Retrieved September 20, 2014, from http://waterandpower.org/museum/Construction_of_the_LA_Aqueduct.html<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Webb, R. Personal
conversation with Roy Webb, Special Collections Library, University of Utah,
2014<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Wescott, D. (2014, August
31). Rabbitstick-WinterCount: August 2014. Retrieved September 19, 2014, from </span><a href="http://rabbitstick-wintercountblog.blogspot.com/2014_08_01_archive.html"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">http://rabbitstick-wintercountblog.blogspot.com/2014_08_01_archive.html</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Willow Fire Archaeological
Studies, San Bernardino National Forest, California - Federal Emergency -
Projects - SRI. (n.d.).
Retrieved September 20, 2014, from www.sricrm.com/projects/willow.html<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Wolfe, T. (2008). <i>The
right stuff</i> (2nd ed., p. 1). New York: Picador.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Wrightwoodskihistory.
(n.d.). Retrieved September 20, 2014, from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wrightwood,_California#History</span><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-14672613326617503382013-09-27T08:17:00.000-07:002015-03-08T09:04:57.875-07:00Part 211 - Canadian Border Authorities<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">The
calls were placed - one to the American Border Patrol and one to the Canadian
border authorities. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">While they waited,
they chatted amicably about various and sundry items. The officer said that the
Indians had illegally been collecting mushrooms and had close to a $1,000 worth
of the fungi. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">He removed them from the
bed of his truck and threw them into the woods as he talked. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">He also didn’t know a lot about the PCT, and
Coincidence was more than happy to fill him in on the specifics.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Before long, the American Border Patrol
called back to say they had no issues with the American, but when the Canadian
border authorities returned the officer’s call, the response was,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Arrest
the suspect on violation of the Emigration Act.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
jovial and amicable manner of the Conservation Officer immediately changed and
he said, in a most authoritative tone of voice,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Sir, I
need you to turn around and place your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Whoa,”
said Coincidence, “I didn’t see that one coming.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Neither
did I,” said the officer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">It was
a long ride to the town of Hope in the back of the police cruiser, made even
more difficult having his hands cuffed behind his back, but Coincidence
prevailed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">In
Hope, he was taken to a detention facility of the Royal Mounted Police and
placed in a small cell, but not before being searched. Later that evening, he was transported to
Vancouver, and was somewhat upset when he overheard his guards mention
something about a "hearing." Coincidence recounted that before being
taken to the transport, not only was he again handcuffed, but he was also
shackled with leg chains, which made it difficult to walk in his bare feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
ride to Vancouver was long, over an hour, and upon arriving, he was again
placed in a small cell, where he remained for the night. As he drifted off to sleep, he found it ironic
that he started the morning walking through the forests, and ended the day in a
jail cell. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
morning interview Coincidence had with a Canadian border official centered on
the small detail of why he had deviated from his planned border crossing at
Manning Park, and also, the nitpicky detail that his permit had expired by two
days. Coincidence explained to him the difficulty
of crossing the snow-covered mountains. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“So,"
said the official," you just want to go home?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Yes,”
replied Coincidence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Well,
we really have no need to keep you further; I’ll see that you’re released as
quickly as possible.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Later
that afternoon, a cab ride was provided for Coincidence to the U.S.-Canadian border
where he quickly passed through. Once on
the American side, he placed his hand on a large sign that said, “Welcome to
America,” then turned to face Canada, flipped it the bird, and walked away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">In
retrospect: Thru-hikers, particularly
those crossing into Canada at Manning Park, carry two official documents with them;
first, the Long Distance Hiking Permit issued by the Pacific Crest Trail
Association; and two, the Canadian Identification Permit for entry into Canada.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Either
permit can be requested for examination by the appropriate authorities. Chances are, a hiker will never be asked to
show their permits, but there are consequences for not having them. Personally, I had a Forest Service ranger ask
for my Long Distance Hiking Permit while hiking to Fuller Ridge in the San
Jacinto Mountains, and as Coincidence found out, the Canadian permit is valid
only for crossing into Canada at the border crossing specified on the permit –
which is Manning Park. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I’m Fine’s Ending<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Like Ernest Shackleton, I’m Fine wasn’t about to give up.
Even after having rescued himself and
making his way to civilization at Stehekin, one would think that being as close
to death as he was, he would have taken the heavenly opportunity to flee the
snow and icy-covered mountains and frozen wilderness and beat a hasty retreat
to the comforts of his parents' home in Pennsylvania. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">But I’m
Fine, like Shackleton and most PCT hikers, carried within himself the ever-smoldering
embers of the “Wanderfire,” that never say “never.” I marvel at and applaud the indomitable spirit
of I’m Fine who, rather than take the easy way out by saying,<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“The
path ahead is too hard, I’ll pass,” recouped and plunged back into the
mountains, with as fierce a determination as I’ve ever encountered, to complete
the journey he started. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">No one
would have faulted him for leaving the mountains; he had given his best and the
mountains had nearly snuffed out his life. But I’m Fine is of a particular breed of
individuals, not uncommon to those found hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, where
determination, courage, commitment, and vision are required qualifications for
even considering a long-distance hike.
I’m Fine persevered, prevailed, and conquered even as did Roald Amundsen
and Ernest Shackleton. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Although
I’m Fine, and Coincidence endured a bit more on the trail than the average PCT
hiker, they nevertheless typify the strength of character most hikers bring to
the starting point at Campo. These are
the type of people who would have sailed with Amundsen and Shackleton, and these
are the type of people future PCT hikers might want to compare themselves with
along with the character strengths of the twentieth-century polar explorers;
doing so will give the aspiring PCT hiker a good barometric reading as to the
feasibility and potential success of their anticipated 2,665-mile adventure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Richard Jones
(Trail name: Rabbit Stick) Pacific Crest Trail Thru-Hiker, Class of 2013<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">P.S. I still have a one-owner, low-mileage, only
driven on Sunday trans-oceanic rowboat for sale, as well as a bear vault. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-17741874967329367272013-09-26T08:09:00.000-07:002015-03-04T15:34:44.969-08:00Part 210 - Coincidence's Story<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Coincidence’s Story</span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Coincidence, a thirty-nine-year-old health-care
professional from California, arrived at Rainy Pass on October 2, 2013, a few days
after the first major snowstorm of the season had shut down the trail for most
PCT hikers. He and his small group of
five camped at the pass, and were joined the next morning by a larger group of
fellow hikers who had tried to continue on from Rainy Pass the day before but
had been turned back by the deep snow. They
had retreated to the trail town of Winthrop for resupplies and the acquisition
of additional winter clothing and snowshoes and were back for a second attempt.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
newly arrived group was actually two smaller groups, one that was going to make
another attempt up the PCT from Rainy Pass, while the second group had elected
to proceed to the border via the East Bank Trail along Ross Lake.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">After
the initial attempt the day before by everyone to ascend the mountain passes
north of Rainy Pass and having to retreat, the smaller of the two groups that
arrived this morning felt that their best effort would be to roadwalk twenty
miles west to the East Bank Trailhead, then proceed thirty-two miles north, along
the east side of Ross Lake, until reaching the border.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">When
the two groups split to go their separate ways, Coincidence was left standing
alone in the parking lot; he said he was undecided as to which group he should
go with. He wanted very much to continue
on up the trail to Hart’s Pass and beyond, but his gut feeling told him not to
go. He was wise and listened to the
whisperings of the spirit, and fell in behind the group beginning the
twenty-mile road walk to Ross Lake, accompanied only by female hiker Horney
Toad, who had hiked with him to Rainy Pass the day before.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Arriving
at the East Bank Trailhead late in the afternoon, he saw other hikers engaged
in conversation with National Park Rangers. It was then that he learned that the trailhead
and the trail itself fell under National Park Service jurisdiction and was
therefore closed to the public because of the government shutdown, which began
on October 1 and would last until October 16, 2013.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Coincidence
was in shock at what he was hearing; how could his own government deny him, as
well as the other hikers, access to what they felt was public property, indeed
their property, as citizens of the United States. No amount of arguing with the rangers produced
any positive results; they were adamant about their orders from their superiors
that no one was to have access to any property administered by the federal
government, and were threatening to ticket, arrest, and jail anyone who dared
to do otherwise. This was as true for
the Ross Lake National Recreation Area as for Mount Rushmore, Yellowstone, and
Yosemite National Parks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Across
the nation, the American public was outraged by the closure of these national treasures,
and as an example of their anger and frustration, veterans, in an act of civil
disobedience, removed the metal barriers surrounding the open-air World War II
Memorial in Washington, D.C., a monument that normally had no park service
personnel present.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">It was
widely reported in the media that the National Park Service had been ordered to
make the government shutdown as painful as possible for the American public,
orders originating from top levels of government, to highlight the Obama
administration’s disagreement with congress about funding for Obamacare and
being denied congressional permission to raise the national debt. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Coincidence
and the others knew nothing about what was happening on a national scale; they
only knew that their little section of the world had suddenly crumbled, and
they were being asked to vacate the premises – the parking lot of the East Bank
Trailhead that was administered by National Park Service, but belonged to all
Americans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">One by
one, the dejected hikers returned to their vehicles, if they had one, or
accepted rides from others, if they did not. Only Coincidence refused a ride, and finally,
he was the only one left standing in the parking lot, besides the rangers, who
had retreated to their vehicles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Confused,
bewildered, in shock and with no plan in mind, Coincidence began walking towards
the trail; he passed the NPS rangers sitting in their vehicles, and kept on
moving. They put their SUV in gear and
pulled up alongside of him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Where
you going, buddy?” they asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Coincidence
politely replied, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“I’ve
just hiked 2,630 miles, all the way from Mexico, and I’m thirty miles from
completing my once-in-a-lifetime journey, and you’re telling me I can’t
continue; to be honest, I’m in total shock, and I just want to keep walking."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“We
understand," said the rangers, "and we’re sympathetic with your
predicament, but we have orders not to let anyone proceed. Let us give you a ride to the nearest town.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Coincidence
accepted their offer, climbed into the back seat of the SUV, and was driven to
the small town of Marblemount, six miles west of Ross Lake. He settled in for the night at the Buffalo Run
Inn, but he did not sleep. He was
frustrated and angry, and from these agitated emotions, he developed a
plan. He wasn’t quitting; he hadn’t come
this far in his long journey from Mexico, now on the threshold of victory, only
to be denied the accomplishment of his goal by some fat dude in Washington, who
had no concept of what it meant to labor physically for a goal; no, he would not
be denied his just rewards. He would go
forward, even if it meant going to jail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Early
the next morning, October 4, 2013, Coincidence hitched a ride back to the
trailhead with a hunter. Fearing that
the rangers would be there when he arrived, and they were, he asked the hunter
to let him out a little past the trailhead parking lot. Once he was out of the pickup truck,
Coincidence scrambled down the embankment where he hid for the remainder of the
day, until the rangers left. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Late in
the afternoon, with heart pounding, he climbed to the top of the embankment,
and seeing no NPS Rangers or vehicles in the parking lot, bolted across Highway
20, into the parking lot, and up the trail. He kept moving at a quick pace, fearful that
tracking dogs and mounted police were right on his trail. It wasn’t until seven miles later that he finally
stopped for the evening and made camp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Coincidence
was elated and euphoric at his accomplishment. He had outwitted his adversaries, and was now
seven miles closer to his goal. He slept
well that night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">On the
trail early the next morning, Coincidence kept moving at a brisk pace; the
trail, which followed along the edge of the lake, eventually turned to dirt roads
as it neared the Canadian border, and then, there it was – a large sign that
read, “International Border,” and adjacent to it was Monument 72, a silver
obelisk marking the US-Canadian border.
He had made it; he had walked all the way from Mexico to Canada, even if
it wasn’t the official ending point of the journey, and his only regret was
that his friends could not be there with him to enjoy this delicious moment of
celebration.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Farther
up the road on the Canadian side was a campground that was shuttered for the
season. There were several cabins
scattered around a central common area, and upon trying the door of one cabin,
he found it was open, and like Goldilocks from the story of <i>The Three Bears</i>, he went in and made
himself right at home, which included building a roaring fire in the custom
stone fireplace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Kudos to
Coincidence for pursuing his dream and not letting any obstacle deter him from
achieving the goal he set out to accomplish. While all others in the face of adversity
turned back, Coincidence alone, in the true spirit of Amundsen and Shackleton,
plowed ahead, not letting the hardship of an early winter snowstorm or the
might of the United States government stop him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">But,
the "fat lady hadn’t sung yet," and as Earl Nightingale would say,
“And now for the rest of the story.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">On the
third day of his caper, having escaped the long tentacles of the CIA, the NSA,
the IRS, the CSI, and the NPS, Coincidence, from the cabin door, stepped out
onto the Canadian road and again began walking north. He was still a long way from civilization,
the town of Hope being the nearest center of transportation, which meant either
a long road walk or hopefully a ride with a local camper or fisherman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Not far
from the border, he spotted the vehicle of a Canadian Conservation Officer,
whose occupant was interrogating a group of First Nation (local Indians)
individuals who were clustered on the ground in front of the officer. Coincidence, not sure of what to make of the
situation, walked on by, and waved to the group as he passed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Do I
need to be concerned,” he thought. “No,
I have my Canadian PCT entry papers, the ones I’ve been carrying and protecting
from damage all the way from Mexico; I’m good to go.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Moments
later, the car carrying the Indians sped down the road, dust and gravel flying
everywhere, and were quickly out of sight. And then, the vehicle belonging to the
Canadian Conservation Officer slowly pulled alongside of him, and the officer
politely asked him about his activities – where’d he come from, where he was going,
etc. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Coincidence
explained to him about being a PCT thru-hiker, and having been thwarted in his
attempt to cross into Canada because of the snowstorm, and then produced his
Canadian entry permit. The officer
examined the permit and said he needed to make a couple of phone calls. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-19715578148563867762013-09-26T08:03:00.000-07:002015-03-03T14:11:32.434-08:00Part 209 - Epilogue<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Epilogue</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">During my last four days on the trail, starting at
Cutthroat Pass just a few miles north of Rainy Pass, a slow-moving winter began
moving into the area; first it was just drizzling rain, but as the snow levels
lowered, the drizzle turned to sleet and then to snow. Woody Pass was the high point on the trail
through the northern part of the Cascades, and OTC and I walked across it with
a little more than a foot of snow on the ground– nothing to get too excited about,
and on Wednesday, September 25, I crossed the border into Canada. Two days - forty-eight hours later, a massive
winter storm, coming off the Pacific Ocean, slammed into the North Cascade
Mountains, laying down, in most areas, a minimum of three feet of snow in the
high mountain passes and effectively shutting down the trail, from Snoqualmie
in the south, through Stevens Pass, Stehekin, Rainy Pass, Hart’s Pass, and
beyond – in the north.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Individual
hikers became stranded; while small groups began to congregate at Andrea Dinsmore’s
Hiker Haven in Baring, twenty miles down the road from the ski resort at Stevens
Pass, and trail towns like Winthrop, thirty-five miles east of Rainy Pass, to
assess the situation and formulate plans for moving forward, if it were at all
possible. Others, who were close to
Stehekin, decided that it was time to close up shop for the season, and took
the boat across the lake to the town of Chelan, and called it quits for the
year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">On
Tuesday, October 1, 2013, the first day of the U.S. government shutdown, a
small group of seven hikers - Toots Magoots, Tears for Beers, Atlas, Fun Size,
Lighthouse, Delightful, and Cuddles, who had been resting in Winthrop and
formulating plans for pushing on into the North Cascade Mountains, started from
Rainy Pass. They were young and determined,
and not about to let a snowstorm deprive them from achieving their cherished
goal after having traveled so far and suffered and sacrificed so much. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Without
much difficulty, they hiked to Cutthroat Pass and a little beyond, but the lead
hikers who were breaking trail – Fun Size and Lighthouse, by this time were
postholing through three feet of snow, with those coming behind following in
their footsteps; but the pace was slow – only one mile an hour. At one point, the trail circled around a large
rock lying beside the trail; here, a snowdrift over four feet high had formed
at the edge of a steep slope and it wasn’t deemed prudent to try and break
through it. The group turned around and
headed back to the parking lot at Rainy Pass, thoroughly disappointed at being
turned back</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
group studied their maps, looking for an alternative route, one at a lower
elevation that would allow them to proceed towards the goal of crossing into
Canada, even if it wasn’t at the official PCT crossing. After considering several alternatives, the
group decided to try a trail – located twenty miles west of Rainy Pass, called
the East Bank Trail. Starting at Highway
20, the trail entered the North Cascade National Park and followed along the
east bank of twenty-three-mile-long Ross Lake, a large man-made reservoir formed
by damming the Skagit River for hydroelectric power and operated by Seattle
City Light. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
following morning, October 2, 2013, the group of seven, headed by trail angel
Aloha driving a green van dubbed the Pickle Jar (Aloha is Toots Magoots husband
who had been following her and providing support along the trail), pulled into
the trailhead parking lot at the East Gate Trail. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">To
their amazement, they saw two National Park Service vehicles parked in front of
the entrance to the trail, effectively blocking it, along with yellow plastic
tape with the words, “Caution, do not enter,” printed on it strung around the
perimeter of the trailhead. Other
hikers, who had the same idea as the seven from the Pickle Jar about hiking the
East Bank Trail to Canada, were engaged in conversation with the two NPS
rangers standing beside their vehicles, emblazoned with the words “U.S. Park
Ranger.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Bottom
line: Because of the U.S. government
shutdown, access to all national parks and recreational areas, in essence any
entity under federal jurisdiction, was now closed to the public; this included
river trips through the Grand Canyon, as well as entrance to the Ross Lake
National Recreation Area and the North Cascade National Park, which meant that
Pacific Crest Trail hikers, or recreationalists of any type, were temporarily
being barred from entering the national parks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The two
NPS rangers were polite and very apologetic about the ban they were being
compelled to enforce. They knew the
decision was out of their hands, and as employees of the federal government,
they were obligated to perform their duty, regardless of their personal
feelings about the matter. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The hikers
huddled among themselves, a dejected lot of humanity if ever there was one.
Many shed tears and hugged one another as the phrase was muttered over and over
again,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“It’s
over with, it’s over with.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">And,
indeed, it was, at least for this little group. There was no further recourse to pursuing the
trek north; the winter snows had shut down the Pacific Crest Trail, and the
U.S. government had shut down the one possible alternative trail. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Back in
Skykomish, at Dinsmore’s Hiker Haven, the last of the Class of 2013 PCT hikers
were assembling; their situation was a little bleaker than those who were
farther up the trail, but in the end, just as disparaging. Several groups from Hiker Haven started north
from Stevens Pass; one made it sixteen miles, the other eighteen miles; but
ultimately, both groups had to retreat. Reality
was, winter had arrived in the North Cascades, and no amount of wishing or
determination was going to alter the fact. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Several
unfortunate hikers still on the trail woke up to find their tents buried under
several feet of snow, and realized they could neither go forward or backward
and had the foresight and clarity of thought to sit tight until local search
and rescue teams could extract them from their snowy captivity. Such was the case for the Japanese hiker, Taka,
who was located in the Milk Creek drainage south of Stehekin, and Make-Do and
Kokonut, south of Trout Lake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Likewise,
an extensive ground and air search was conducted by local SAR teams and friends
of Rocket Llama, just north of Trout Lake. After several days of sitting tight, rationing
her food and other supplies, being passed over by search helicopters, she
determined from a study of her maps, that by heading east down the Killen Creek
drainage at mile 2,253, she could intersect a Forest Service road. This she did and was successful in connecting
with search and rescue personnel who had been scouring the terrain along the
PCT for over a week. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Now, in
hindsight, was it worth my effort to rise early and be on the trail by four
thirty every morning? With only
forty-eight hours to spare before the big winter storm hit, and reading the
accounts of many who had to abandon the trail for this year, and the accounts
of a handful who had to be extracted from the mountains by search and rescue
teams, I would say that’s a definite yes.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">From
day one, back in Campo, I always had this underlying feeling that I needed to
keep moving up the trail at a brisk pace, and not dally. Some would call it a "gut feeling,"
and I can go with that, but my experience with prayer and listening to the
"whisperings of the spirit," are more in keeping with my line of
thinking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">In
closing this long account of my experiences along the PCT, I finish with the
story of a thru hiker who I believe is qualified to stand as a representative
of all the hikers from the class of 2013 for endurance, tenacity, bravery,
commitment, and determination, the same enduring qualities that Shackleton and
Amundsen possessed in setting a goal, preparing for and pursuing it, and then
enduring to the end until the goal was accomplished. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-2115783144309444902013-09-24T07:57:00.000-07:002015-03-03T14:10:28.285-08:00Part 208 - PCT - Thanks For the Memories<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Day 5 – September
25, 2013<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I slept in this morning, and why not; there was not a big
hurry to be on the trail; it was only six miles to the border. I found OTC sitting in the doorway of his
tent, boiling water for coffee and his morning gruel of thick, pasty oatmeal,
laced with dehydrated fruit. He offered
me hot water and a packet of hot cocoa mix, which I gladly accepted. The morning was crisp, and our breath was
frosty, which made the hot beverage all that more satisfying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">We were
both very cognizant that this was the last day of our epic journey, and for a
moment we reflected on the magnitude of what we had accomplished. We started in early spring from the Mexican border
when the days were long, the mornings warm, and flowers were just beginning to
bloom. And over the months, as we
steadily marched north, almost imperceptibly, the seasons had changed, until now,
the full force of winter in the high mountains was just hours away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I told
OTC that I would be at the border about noon, and asked if he might be there
around the same time, so that we could take pictures of each other. He said that probably wouldn’t happen as he
anticipated meeting his wife, Cora, at the border at four this afternoon; he
said he was going to stay in his tent for a while, catching up on his journal
writing, and probably taking a nap. As a
last interaction between us, he gave me a note to give to Cora when I saw her
on the trail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I pack
up and bid him farewell, and told him that if he and Cora made it into Manning
Park by ten tomorrow morning, breakfast will be on me. My last memory of OTC was seeing him still
sitting in the doorway of his tent drying his gloves with the heat of his
Jetboil stove.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I’m not
a wordsmith, and thus it’s difficult for me to put into words what I’ve
experienced these last few days in the mountains of the North Cascades just
prior to crossing into Canada. I’ve seen
pictures of these mountains in the springtime, when the grass is green, flowers
are in full bloom, and the trail is brown as opposed to being white; suffice it
to say, the area is unbelievably gorgeous in the springtime; but at the moment,
I’m here at the other extreme of the season - the onslaught of winter, just
moments away from the tipping point when the door to this vast wilderness will
be slammed shut and hidden away for the duration of many months. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I’m
seeing the mountains on the verge of hibernation, on the eve of slipping away
into a winter wonderland that no one will be allowed to penetrate, until the
guardians of the passes – the snow angels, once again grant their permission to
enter. The mountains are at their moment
of transition, from the carefree days of sunshine and lollipops, to the solemn
and austere days of cleansing and renewal, and OTC and I are brusquely being
ushered out the door, as though the mountains are saying, “Closed for the
season.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">It
would have been difficult, but not impossible, for me to have traversed these
mountains alone; after all, Cookie passed through two days before, and Swiss
Army will come through two days later. But
I’m here, alone, at this specific moment in time when the snows are just
beginning to cover the trail, and there was no one really in front of me
breaking trail. It’s not altogether
impossible to lose the tread, especially in moments of whiteouts or when the
clouds settle on the ground and obscure the landforms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I do
not believe that it was happenstance that OTC appeared on the trail at the
precise moment he did. I firmly believe
that those who are beyond the veil and who have been diligent in watching over
me during this trek knew I would need a companion, an escort with prior
knowledge of the trail, to see me safely through the quickly deteriorating
harshness of the fast- approaching winter.
Had it been anyone other than OTC, it might well have been a case of the
blind leading the blind. But, as it
turned out, my jolly companion for the last three days was a carefree, bushy
beard, wannabe Viking – OTC. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Thanks,
my friend; you performed a service that I’m sure you’re not even aware of. And like the "thanks" we hikers
express to all trail angels, it hardly suffices for the deep, profound
gratitude we feel, but, at the moment, it’s the best we can offer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Leaving
OTC in his tent, I searched out the spur trail that came down to the lake, and
would lead me back to the PCT. Wet shoes
punching through crusty snow uncovers twigs, branches, and stiff grass that
only days before were enjoying the warming rays of sunlight, but are now
resigned to receiving a crushing mantle of snow ten to twelve feet deep that
will block the life-sustaining rays of the sun until next summer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">In
moments, I’m back on the PCT and flying down the trail; I’m walking as fast as
I can go, but still being vigilant and cautious, as the trail changes from deep
snow, to slush, to ice, and then to mud. I don’t want to end my long, hard-fought
journey to a broken ankle two miles from the border, as did Gourmet in 2012. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Down
the stretch I fly, and when the trees open up so that the mountains are open to
my view, somewhere in the distance I know I’m seeing Canadian trees; I tell
myself they have to look different than U.S. trees, but in reality, everything
is green. Three switchbacks, a short
straightaway down a small hill, and then I’m there, standing in the small
clearing beside the legendary and almost mythical Monument 78; time is noon,
Wednesday, September 25, 2013. Goal
achieved; check that one off the bucket list and on to the next one – </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">maybe trek the
Great Wall of China, maybe another bike ride across America, or maybe a bike
trip to the South Pole using a fat tire bike, or even ride a rocket sled to the
moon as my father envisioned in his science-fiction short story titled: Rider
in the Sky.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">Peter Bird, my friend the English
ocean-rower, in an interview was once asked why he rowed the ocean. I don’t
remember his precise answer, but it was along the lines of trying to explain to
the questioner, what it means to live life at a level above the dull routine of
everyday living.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large;">I often get asked the same question
with regards to my bike ride across America, my solo ocean crossing of the
Atlantic Ocean, and my desire to hike 2665 miles across the mountains. It’s not
an easy question to answer, because there is no one, clear-cut answer. Most
often, I just reply, “Just because I can.” But that’s really quite superficial
and doesn’t really answer the question.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large;"> Having had a great deal of time on
the trail, to ponder this question, these are some more in-depth reasons why I
hiked the Pacific Crest Trail, why I rowed solo across the Atlantic Ocean, why
I biked across America, and why I will continue with these activities as long
as I’m physically able to so do.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Like Robert Frost’s poem, The Road Not Taken, I
choose the road less traveled </span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">because I </span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">dare to
dream. I do not</span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"> want to arrive at the en</span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">d of my
life having regrets about </span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">unfulfilled dreams.</span></span><span class="bodytext1"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I choose the road less traveled </span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">as a
means of pushing myself to the limits, to gain a better understanding of my
strengths and weaknesses.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I choose the road less traveled <span class="bodytext1">because, at</span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"> certain
level</span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">s</span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">, I am afraid of things.
Hiking, and navigating through the mountains, the open range lands, the
forests,</span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> the ocean,</span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"> builds my self-confidence.</span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> </span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"> At home, at work, at play, it enables me to
say, “I can do this hard thing.”</span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I choose the road less traveled </span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">because
it means I’m still alive, and my life has purpose. It means my life hasn’t
become one of simply knowing the times of all the daytime TV shows.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpFirst">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="bodytext1"> </span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I choose the
road less traveled </span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">to experience that which
is unconventional, life events that few people will ever know or understand.</span></span><span style="color: windowtext; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I choose the road less traveled to experience the splendor of
this wonderful country I live in, to be fully immersed in all that God has
created for my benefit.</span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I choose the road less
traveled to gain an appreciation of the people who are different from me, to
broaden my horizons; to gain a human perspective that I’m not acquainted with.</span><span style="color: windowtext; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I choose the trail less traveled </span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">because I’m different; my family history genealogy shows that
I share common ancestors with Lewis and Clark, Orville and Wilbur Wright,
Amelia Earhart, Oliver Cromwell, Horatio (Lord) Nelson, Edgar Allen Poe, Samuel
Clemens (Mark Twain), Ulysses S. Grant, Butch Cassidy, Buffalo Bill Cody,
Abraham Lincoln and Thomas Jefferson. </span></span><span class="bodytext1"><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">(Relative)</span></i></span><span style="color: windowtext; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span class="bodytext1"><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large;">I choose the road less traveled to add to my storehouse of
experiences; after all is said and done, I am the sum total of my experiences.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I choose the road less traveled </span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">to
interact with people, and to hear their stories.</span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I choose the road less traveled </span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">to see
what I’m made of, what I’m capable of enduring. In a world of cushiness and
softness, there’s not much opportunity to experience the harshness of life that
generations past have endured. On the trail, or on the ocean, I can experience
pain, and suffering, thirst and hunger, cold, heat, weariness and mind numbing
fatigue, and still find the will to keep going.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I choose the road less traveled </span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">as a
surrogate for those who physically may not be able to do so, or who lack the
time; in order to share my experiences with them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I choose the road less traveled </span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">to
gain knowledge about me; like putting up a mirror and looking at my reflection,
I seek feedback to make course corrections, in order to stay on the strait and
narrow path.</span></span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">I choose the road less
traveled to learn how to prioritize the demands on my time; to separate the
wheat from the chaff. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I choose the road less traveled </span><span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">knowing
that I will encounter circumstances that will require my total reliance, and
total faith in God for help and assistance. </span></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;">I choose the road less
traveled just for the fun of it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpMiddle">
<span class="bodytext1"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-fareast;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The U.S.-Canadian border is just a straight line of trees </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">that have been cut down, approximately fifty feet wide,
that extends from ocean to ocean. There
are no Royal Canadian Mounted Police officers in red coats and wide-brim hats
to check my papers that I’ve been protecting for 2,665 miles, fearful that if I
didn’t have them, I might be turned away from crossing into Canada; in fact,
there’s no one here at all. I do a
little "happy dance," sign the trail register hidden inside the
bronze obelisk, take a selfie, and then with no other celebration or antics to
perform, put my pack back on and begin the eight-mile trek to Manning Park
where I will meet my wife ,Jodie, and friends, Ken and Lois Cutler, at the
Manning Park Lodge. </span><span style="color: red; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="bodytextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
only euphoria I feel at the completion of this once-in-a-lifetime adventure, is
the knowledge that I can soon get off my feet, which I can no longer feel, and without
the weight of my pack on my back, once again be able to stand up straight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Many
miles from the monument, I meet beautiful Cora, OTC’s wife, valiantly trooping
up the trail with a fully loaded backpack, intent on making it to the border,
but now, obviously way late. We stop in
the middle of the trail, and I tell her that I have a note to give to her from
OTC. After reading it, she says she’s
bringing cookies to OTC, and would I like some? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Does
the sun come up in the morning?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Is the
Pope Catholic?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">She
drops her pack and extracts a medium-size plastic Tupperware container filled
with little cookies. Cora tells me to
take all I want. If she only knew what
dangerous words she’s just spoken. My
fingers tremble as I limit myself to three; the urge is to flee with the whole
container. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">In the
late afternoon, the eight-mile section of the Canadian trail ends at a paved
road, adjacent to a flowing stream that leads into Manning Park. As I set foot on the road, a vehicle
approaches with three eager faces peering out of the windows. It is my wife and friends. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Our jubilation at reconnecting with one
another is electrifying; there is so much joy and happiness. It would have been a real downer and total
letdown not to have had a cheering section waiting at the finish line. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Jodie
and the Cutlers flew into Seattle, rented an SUV and drove to Manning Park,
arriving at the lodge just a few minutes before I exited the forest onto the
paved road. Brownie was in the lodge,
and he gave them information on how to find the trail where I would exit. What great timing we all had. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">That
night in the lodge, after a shower, shave, dinner, and numerous desserts, I sat
in front of the communal fireplace visiting with Brownie, Laptop, Biers and
Ranch, the only trail hikers in the lodge at the time. We reminisced about our experiences for a long
time, as the four of them passed the bottle around. Finally, it was time to say “Good-bye,” which
we did with heavy hearts; we truly are comrades in arms, and we share a link
that will bind us together forever, a link that is 2,665 miles long,
affectionately known simply as the PCT.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Now, as
the saga of this long adventure comes to a close, as well as bringing closure
to so many of the other adventures I’ve been privileged to participate in, I
pass along a couple of quotes from three, well-known historical figures that
are pertinent to the stories and essays contained in this memoir.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">First –
from Henry Ford: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><i>“Whether
you think you can, or you think you can't--you're right."</i><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large;">And from Walt Disney who said,<i> “If you can
dream it, you can do it. Always remember
that this whole thing was started with a dream and a mouse.” </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: x-large;">And finally, from the signature song that the famous
comedian Bob Hope would sing at the close of his weekly television comedy show,
and which seems most appropriate to end this adventurous tale: </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><b style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Thanks
for the Memories</b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">.”</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh221IakcqFyANG5GiTnHPEQkwuMy7CVBJMaP63juWOvQfJuou0F_PXcM2quF9fDzUXyP9FhO5lZt6vbiFvUN9Iq-RrAepq-OmKe9UFqmu3xj5R5NT1mH8sv1e74ymVLcZedT6u5ruD5ss/s1600/IMG_6495+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh221IakcqFyANG5GiTnHPEQkwuMy7CVBJMaP63juWOvQfJuou0F_PXcM2quF9fDzUXyP9FhO5lZt6vbiFvUN9Iq-RrAepq-OmKe9UFqmu3xj5R5NT1mH8sv1e74ymVLcZedT6u5ruD5ss/s1600/IMG_6495+-+Copy.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
As I descend in elevation to the Canadian border, I encountered Yabba Dabba and his wife Hot Wings and their well-behaved dogs. They have been to the border, signed the register and are now heading back to Hart's Pass where they'll exit the trail. It was pleasing to get to know these good people.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48P3fZgTcdC2pd46DPuiZQyqrNJU0RU6VZy8ELmEReyDjMlU4TuYmNNBrw9VhL-6eqzihvhyLxJBuPmwbApjJAMv-cfA1JXeGOS7ElvBQAx-PYy1hGiys3H6BrSvmYsU1IdJU9xWKjfA/s1600/IMG_6496+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48P3fZgTcdC2pd46DPuiZQyqrNJU0RU6VZy8ELmEReyDjMlU4TuYmNNBrw9VhL-6eqzihvhyLxJBuPmwbApjJAMv-cfA1JXeGOS7ElvBQAx-PYy1hGiys3H6BrSvmYsU1IdJU9xWKjfA/s1600/IMG_6496+-+Copy.JPG" height="640" width="476" /></span></a></div>
And there it is, the US/Canadian border. It's just a wide swath of trees cut in a straight line from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSK9YyF0sdO03pbTEmZxWmQgdtEJwjoZJBI2whZxKRXcdWAdS74-u_0DAtZdHkv8fM9TUshNf234FHN3kfCbBNxOcTbBtffeVG-o9iPi6NtObo3zz4JzzB8YCppLlGxR_HAZFzg1ZlmVg/s1600/IMG_6497+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSK9YyF0sdO03pbTEmZxWmQgdtEJwjoZJBI2whZxKRXcdWAdS74-u_0DAtZdHkv8fM9TUshNf234FHN3kfCbBNxOcTbBtffeVG-o9iPi6NtObo3zz4JzzB8YCppLlGxR_HAZFzg1ZlmVg/s1600/IMG_6497+-+Copy.JPG" height="640" width="476" /></span></a></div>
This is the northern terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail. It looks much like its cousin the southern terminus.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFJJ3_EtJH3S1PTH9yeNt7MkvjD5wL5RlGAbLGjcWUXB-Z5h2aYVRb3kduMt2wlNInVCuvYHwjs-Gz3rqjZaXXfGyl54AkmsJWsQvkAmi8sjpPJU_n3RJdYbIlVrcoEyFQTc7-6iFZNA/s1600/IMG_6498+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFJJ3_EtJH3S1PTH9yeNt7MkvjD5wL5RlGAbLGjcWUXB-Z5h2aYVRb3kduMt2wlNInVCuvYHwjs-Gz3rqjZaXXfGyl54AkmsJWsQvkAmi8sjpPJU_n3RJdYbIlVrcoEyFQTc7-6iFZNA/s1600/IMG_6498+-+Copy.JPG" height="640" width="476" /></span></a></div>
Beside the terminus is Monument 78, the marker delineating the border. There are three parts to the monument and they can be pulled apart. In the bottom is the hallowed register. No one leaves without signing this important document. It attests to all that the long-distant hiker who started at the Mexican/US border five plus months ago, has accomplished the near impossible.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlv71tmd2kSvX3_a8g_asK8VLSkFyMaHHIBJn5Y1o7EfnUcQJjBPi6XQMMJ5CJ6fgKZPNndKHNlfU8YPOR3tEuIqOjVK3NDG5FaBsTnwA-76blUGKPTifzwattQLCUaHC7A36NLb9E0M/s1600/IMG_6501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlv71tmd2kSvX3_a8g_asK8VLSkFyMaHHIBJn5Y1o7EfnUcQJjBPi6XQMMJ5CJ6fgKZPNndKHNlfU8YPOR3tEuIqOjVK3NDG5FaBsTnwA-76blUGKPTifzwattQLCUaHC7A36NLb9E0M/s1600/IMG_6501.JPG" height="477" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Just like at the southern terminus, there was no one around, so I had to take a selfie as a testament that I had arrived at the end of the trail. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8fE896hXSzUuQLrXMalW9cajZB9CZ-2YOo-cwgwI5pJ-IosPkLK_DAuHTHqquKzamB7sa-gjNYtGZ0pQT_2Bpc0Lf4K6DBSKVWQtoaZywrmhc0QKmfU4v3b4amhPb-Rw6jVmdn0T8GBU/s1600/PCT+%231+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8fE896hXSzUuQLrXMalW9cajZB9CZ-2YOo-cwgwI5pJ-IosPkLK_DAuHTHqquKzamB7sa-gjNYtGZ0pQT_2Bpc0Lf4K6DBSKVWQtoaZywrmhc0QKmfU4v3b4amhPb-Rw6jVmdn0T8GBU/s1600/PCT+%231+023.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlv71tmd2kSvX3_a8g_asK8VLSkFyMaHHIBJn5Y1o7EfnUcQJjBPi6XQMMJ5CJ6fgKZPNndKHNlfU8YPOR3tEuIqOjVK3NDG5FaBsTnwA-76blUGKPTifzwattQLCUaHC7A36NLb9E0M/s1600/IMG_6501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlv71tmd2kSvX3_a8g_asK8VLSkFyMaHHIBJn5Y1o7EfnUcQJjBPi6XQMMJ5CJ6fgKZPNndKHNlfU8YPOR3tEuIqOjVK3NDG5FaBsTnwA-76blUGKPTifzwattQLCUaHC7A36NLb9E0M/s1600/IMG_6501.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">
</span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;">The beginning and the end.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-8741991918856143302013-09-23T07:16:00.000-07:002015-03-03T14:05:04.650-08:00Part 207 - My First Hot Chocolate <div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now
came, what for me was the fitting climax to the end of a very long and
adventurous trail, the climb up Woody Pass. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">To my left was Powder Mountain, a massive
black mountain with spiraling crags, and to my right was Three Fools Peak,
equally menacing looking. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I stood at
the base of the pass at a trail junction with an older section of the PCT, feet
frozen, hands stiff with cold, I hardly dared to think that the trail was
actually going to switchback up this gnarly, steep incline. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">OTC was way out in front of me, and if I hadn’t
seen his footprints in the snow in front of me, I would have had a hard time
knowing that the trail I was on was really the PCT.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
bleak mountains covered in snow and ice were intimidating and it was unsettling
being out here all alone; I knew from reading the journals of other hikers who
had passed this way, that many have experienced the same feelings</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I began
the climb, slowly placing one foot in front of the other, trying to follow
OTC’s footprints in the snow; I counted to eight and started over again, and I
kept doing this as it gave me visual confirmation that I was making progress up
the pass. Unbeknownst to me, this climb
to the top of Woody Pass would be the last elevation climb I will make on the
PCT (with the exception of a few additional feet leading to the Devil’s
Staircase). It would be the last of the
489,418 feet of elevation gain I will have accumulated on this five-month
journey. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
higher I climbed, the deeper the snow became and when I finally reached the
summit, dark, menacing clouds shrouded the pass; OTC's footprints all but
disappeared in this swirling mixture of snow, fog, ice and sleet, and for a few
moments, it became a guessing game as to the correct direction of travel. As I moved forward, the swirling clouds begin
to lift, and I could see that to my left, it was a virtual drop-off to the
valley floor several thousand feet below. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Ahead
was another small climb; the clouds moved back in, and I had absolutely no idea
where I was, or where the trail was leading me. And then suddenly, there was
OTC standing in the middle of the trail, tri-pod extended, and he was squinting
through the viewfinder in an effort to compose just the right picture of the
snow-covered mountains across the deep valley. After he captured his picture, I told him that
even if he didn’t have any Viking heritage in his ancestral line, he could
certainly pass for one. This made him
chuckle and he said he agreed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">We were
both on the downhill side of Woody Pass now, and in truth, it was downhill all
the way to the Canadian border. The snow
was about a foot deep on the summit as we began our descent down the Devil’s
Staircase, a descent of several hundred feet via switchbacks. The descent was treacherous, as the rocks were
snow and ice covered. One slip, one fall,
could do a lot of damage. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Standing
on a ridge overlooking the land below us, Hopkins Lake sparkled like a diamond
in a jeweled setting. The lake, at the
moment, was jade green in color, but the color periodically changed according
to the fluctuating mood of the overcast sky; it was surrounded by a mantle of
glistening white, dotted with green pine trees that had thrust their way
skyward through the blanket of snow. OTC
lingered on the ridgeline to take a picture of the lake, and then said that we
should camp in the trees at the water’s edge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Cautiously,
we made our way down the steep trail until we encountered the spur trail that
headed off to the lake. OTC led, and I
followed. From the crust on the snow, it
didn’t look like there had been other hikers here in the last few days; I knew
I wouldn’t have camped here if it hadn’t been for OTC’s suggestion to do so. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">It was a
good camp, and I was glad we stayed; we found flat ground under the trees that
was free of snow and ice, and within a half hour, we had our tents set up. OTC had a Jetboil stove, and had water boiling
for his meal in just a few minutes. He
called to me, and asked if I would like some hot water for whatever I was
cooking for the evening. I got hot water
for my Idahoan Instant Potatoes, as well as hot chocolate that Craig (OTC’s
real name) provided. I told him that
this was the first hot chocolate I had had on the entire trail, and it never
tasted better. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">For my
last night on the trail, I once again sleep in all my clothes, including my
rain gear, and still, I spent the night rubbing arms, torso, and thighs trying
to get warm enough to go back to sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I wish
I could say this was an emotional night for me, it being my last one on the
trail, but it wasn’t; it was a lot like the last 150 nights, except that right
now, I was just concerned about staying warm. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Tomorrow
I would be with family and friends and two days hence, I would be home,
catching up on five months' worth of honey do's. I would pick up right where I left off last
April; I know the garage needed a new roof; Jodie says the garbage disposal is
making awful grinding noises, and as always, the infernal sprinkling system
will need attention. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">But
there is something that is different now; something I didn’t experience during
my five-month voyage across the Atlantic Ocean. Now, I have a connection with every place I
have visited on the trail, every hiker and trail angel that has crossed my
path, every vista and horizon that came into view; and what’s more astonishing,
I can associate feelings and emotions with each of these places, with each
talented individual with an enduring trail name, and each event that makes up
the totality of the hike along the Pacific Crest Trail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I have
almost total recall of every incident, every person encountered, every section
of trail hiked, every storm weathered, and everything is imbued, surrounded and
imbedded with an appropriate emotion, a feeling, a passion, or sensation, or a
combination of all; the trail has become a perfect symphony of the things,
places, and events encountered; it’s been a perfect blending of the great and
spectacular scenes like Forester Pass, Goat Rocks, Glacier Peak, and North
Cascade snowstorms, coupled with the smaller details like Third Gate water source,
bear lockers at Crabtree Meadows, Tunnel waterfall, ants that rule the world, huckleberries,
Andrea Dinsmore, Stehekin Bakery, and trail closures across federal land. It’s like having a continuous telegraph wire
that connects me with all of these places, beginning at the rusty barbed wire
fence in Campo, and ending with a few wraps of wire around the base of Monument
78 at the Canadian border. <i>(Gray, p.184)<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">At any
time, at any place, under any circumstance, I can tap into one of these
memories and be entertained for hours, which, undoubtedly, is what I’ll do
during my twilight years. If someone
should see me on my porch in my rocking chair, staring into space at no place
in particular, you can be rest assured I’m reliving the glory days of hiking
the Pacific Crest Trail with friends with such funny-sounding names as OTC,
Swiss Army, Prophet, Commando, Cookie, Peter Pan, and Nurse Betty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7tQ9oQt79LzBdkmwF7HXTVTBZARkxxJDYzpLny7xzEmauVz1B37FnvceoveNzutHcsAxXtxcEJzYurj6KNv_nS6JCkUSEe_bmCLc-3bl0OCkrRA1K9my1km3aD32s6VKjfLO3fuUygs/s1600/IMG_6493+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7tQ9oQt79LzBdkmwF7HXTVTBZARkxxJDYzpLny7xzEmauVz1B37FnvceoveNzutHcsAxXtxcEJzYurj6KNv_nS6JCkUSEe_bmCLc-3bl0OCkrRA1K9my1km3aD32s6VKjfLO3fuUygs/s1600/IMG_6493+-+Copy.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
This is the reality of the North Cascade Mountains on September 24, 2013. This is the reason I felt compelled to keep moving forward, rather than take time off in trail towns. Forty eight hours later, a massive winter storm coming off the Pacific Ocean dumped four plus feet of snow, over the entire mountain range, effectively shutting down the trail for the winter. There were many behind me who had to abandon their attempt to finish the trail this year.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9M3rrANSI9GsvKNRGfJYOBsd8lpraPd45OJKhmm7JUppWV6tA_tAkGATE9Wj83XaGJBhREGT-wYUKoxOsAeNV22vZMp1-Os_iz-gpyqJtEfu7UPrBqmR8mTt7pZ_olGogy7da1ksSLeQ/s1600/IMG_6494+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9M3rrANSI9GsvKNRGfJYOBsd8lpraPd45OJKhmm7JUppWV6tA_tAkGATE9Wj83XaGJBhREGT-wYUKoxOsAeNV22vZMp1-Os_iz-gpyqJtEfu7UPrBqmR8mTt7pZ_olGogy7da1ksSLeQ/s1600/IMG_6494+-+Copy.JPG" height="477" width="640" /></span></a></div>
From our vantage point at the bottom of the Devil's Staircase, OTC and I looked down upon Hopkins Lake. OTC said we should camp there, and we did.<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-6853201929722171782013-09-22T07:10:00.000-07:002015-03-03T14:03:37.619-08:00Part 206 - Thank You Beth, Thank You!<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">The
warmth and tenderness and genuine compassion Beth extended to me were soothing
and comforting. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I thanked her and her
husband again and again for the kindness and generosity, and then they left.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">As I
walked back to the outhouse with my precious cargo, I passed the back of a
parked SUV and caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the back window.
The trail had taken its toll on my physique;
I saw that I was gaunt and scrawny, and where once I stood ramrod straight, I
was now stooped shoulder, like a slouch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I pulled
away from the reflection and told myself that what I just saw was only
temporary. Better times would come once
I began eating vegetables again and no longer walked with a heavy pack on my
shoulders. I sat down on the hard, cold
cement pad, and carefully unwrapped the first sandwich; it was a beef and
cheese combination, with lettuce and tomato and all the trimmings inside a
stomach-filling small loaf of bread. I knew I should go slowly in eating the
sandwich, but this was the first real food I had had in a long, long time, and
I showed it no mercy; in seconds, it was gone.
I so needed this bit of comfort food at this time in the trek. I had plenty to eat, and I wasn’t going to
starve, but eating this sandwich was as much physiologically beneficial as it
was physically beneficial. I saved the
other sandwich for later in the day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">With no
one else around, I packed up, bid farewell to the cement outhouse that once
again has provided refuge for a bedraggled hiker, and set out in the direction
of the trail, which was down the road a hundred paces. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I learned
that Hart’s Pass existed as a result of mining activity around the turn of the
twentieth century, and as I climbed the trail towards Slate Pass, I could see
the scars on the mountain from past mining activity. During the time of the gold rush, there were
two boomtowns established in the vicinity of the road that traversed the
mountain, and off to my right, I could see Slate Peak that currently had a
Forest Service fire lookout tower perched atop of it. <i>(Lester)</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">During
the Cold War of the 1950s, the U.S. Air Force took possession of the land,
blasted forty feet off the peak in preparation for the installation of a
permanent radar station to track incoming Russian missiles or aircraft; however,
the site was declared obsolete before construction commenced. The Forest Service took possession of the land
once again, erected a fire lookout station on the peak, this time on stilts, to
the same elevation of the peak before the forty feet were removed. <i>(Slate)</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
rain and snow had eased off a bit, but it was still cold; my climb was
continuing to take me higher into the mountains; Buffalo Pass, followed by
Windy Pass, were the next two landmarks on the trail that I needed to ascend
to. The climb was demanding, and
although I was still practicing "pressure breathing," I did have to
rest periodically. At one such rest
period, I turned around in the trail to gaze down the valley I had just walked
up, only to see a very strange creature approaching me. I knew it was a hiker, but it was a strange-looking
one. Despite the cold, the hiker was
wearing only shorts; his head was covered with the rain hood of his jacket that
was pulled tight around his head, so that only his face was showing, and even
then, not much could be seen, for the whole face was covered by the bushiest
beard I had yet seen on the trail. As the hiker approached, I called out, <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Hello,
who are you? Do you have a trail name?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
hiker floored me when he replied that his name was OTC. My gosh! OTC and I hadn’t seen each other in over two
thousand miles – a lifetime ago, back in the Sierras. I didn’t think OTC recognized me either, but
we embraced like long-lost friends. I
was so happy to have someone else on the trail with me, as I had considerable
consternation about traveling these last few miles alone, as the trail
continued to climb ever higher into the mountains, and the snow level continued
to drop. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">It was
a real blessing to have OTC with me, as he had hiked the trail fourteen years
ago, and was still somewhat familiar with it. We hiked together for just a few minutes, and
then he gradually pulled away from me, as his long legs propelled him up the
trail. I couldn’t keep up with him, but
I could catch up with him, as he stopped often to take pictures of the gorgeous
scenery. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">We hiked
another two miles when OTC informed me that there was a campsite ahead just
below Tamarack Peak and we ought to take advantage of it, for there was nothing
else available for miles. Without OTC as
a companion, I would not have recognized the small patch of trees as a
campsite, for it was off the trail a short way, and instead would have
continued tramping through the snow, until finally it would be too late to find
a campsite, as the trail for miles traversed across the steep slopes of the
snow-covered mountains. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Day 4 – Tuesday,
September 24, 2013<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">It snowed a little last night, but as OTC and I were
sheltered under the trees, we were spared the worst of the storm. I left an hour or so before him as he was
still cooking breakfast when I departed. Leaving camp, I walked the spur trail back to
the main trail, and began making new tracks in the freshly fallen snow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
terrain was obscenely steep; the snow in places was now more than a foot
deep. The swirling black clouds that
hide the peaks and obscured the trail continue to roll across the mountains and
the trail washouts that were just ten miles ahead; all these combined together
were going to make today one of the toughest days in the 2,665 miles of the
trail. Was I nervous? Definitely, but without OTC’s companionship, I
would be more than a little fearful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
mountains here in the North Cascades in winter are black, menacing, and
unforgiving to the strangers who enter into their domain. The snow that is white, fresh, and innocent
looking, does nothing to soften the harshness of the intimidating crags and
pinnacles. The mountains are Lords over all, and they know it. The hiker treads with caution and vigilance,
knowing that he/she is a barely tolerated outsider and that the mountain will
extract its full measure of justice for any carelessness on the part of the
visitor who begrudgingly is allowed to pass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">After
four miles OTC caught up with me, as I knew he would, and together, we pressed
on. I had to be extremely careful where
I placed my feet, as the trail was covered in snow and ice and one misstep
would send me careening a thousand feet or more down the steep mountain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Another
three miles of hiking brought us to the first of several menacing washouts that
Nurse Betty had warned me about. Since
the washouts happened on August 11, 2013, there hadn’t been enough hikers pass
this way to formalize a route through the washouts. Every hiker was responsible for finding their
own way through. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">What was dangerous
about the washouts was that all the rocks were loose. Each step down to the bottom of the gulley, as
well as each step up the other side, had to be carefully planned and tested to
ensure that the loose rubble and large boulders were not dislodged, causing a
landslide with the hiker ending up at the bottom of the rock pile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">OTC
went first and disappeared into the washout, which appeared to be fifteen feet
deep and twenty-five feet across. He had
difficulty with his route, so when it was my turn, I tried a different way; in
the end, they were all equally dangerous. It took us a good thirty minutes to carefully
climb in and out of the four largest washouts before we could continue up the
trail. OTC stayed with me to ensure that I made it through safely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">This
experience was nerve-racking, and injury was just a loose boulder away. The trail maintenance crews will really have
their hands full when they try to reroute the trail through this unstable mess.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0Z32_BowWMfkkPVzdo515OF2_QytOVjrwej4a6Smo3EQN0FDaoBWTRZZz3MFovNtK4LThPy2DM55Kl-KmwZ50EBV872RlC7qQtRzZGLCZInjVyrdn-TAWaJwsIy81WI2EQ9jK93sKE8/s1600/IMG_6489+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0Z32_BowWMfkkPVzdo515OF2_QytOVjrwej4a6Smo3EQN0FDaoBWTRZZz3MFovNtK4LThPy2DM55Kl-KmwZ50EBV872RlC7qQtRzZGLCZInjVyrdn-TAWaJwsIy81WI2EQ9jK93sKE8/s1600/IMG_6489+-+Copy.JPG" height="640" width="476" /></span></a></div>
It's hard to see OTC as he blends in so well with the background. I couldn't keep up with him, but I could catch up to him whenever he stopped to compose a picture, which was often.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OMqbiwMLE3OPcVeJ-K9XY20EnSRa4MRP6R62gnUPWUqWMaeJjX56EZh0AwV5MaGk8orx7YQj30E74HLL49T5qVKniqzMNEWF_AJJXU12S8YvajUgoa6pSbQrqe6ilLZOs48wUEsQTUU/s1600/IMG_6484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OMqbiwMLE3OPcVeJ-K9XY20EnSRa4MRP6R62gnUPWUqWMaeJjX56EZh0AwV5MaGk8orx7YQj30E74HLL49T5qVKniqzMNEWF_AJJXU12S8YvajUgoa6pSbQrqe6ilLZOs48wUEsQTUU/s1600/IMG_6484.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
The snow got deeper the higher OTC and I climbed.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8kyY0fHepAhIlVF0BcYlo36Ye0svFIBUsw4jkyARvBRDuCzX52PMEhuIPca2XxYRHKMqKeYeXMLYmw9s7BpMKHCWjtcYQYjNSOIXpucIpeqzV0Y0KH_QM8JCHvYFzyywKPgy0OU8TyH0/s1600/IMG_6485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8kyY0fHepAhIlVF0BcYlo36Ye0svFIBUsw4jkyARvBRDuCzX52PMEhuIPca2XxYRHKMqKeYeXMLYmw9s7BpMKHCWjtcYQYjNSOIXpucIpeqzV0Y0KH_QM8JCHvYFzyywKPgy0OU8TyH0/s1600/IMG_6485.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
It's not a lot of snow now, but the weather is about to shut down the entire North Cascade Mountain Range.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDslP_uYB_fqYorlrzuERYaGd9whpmS8k8SXiIYB_FhZkkmvhDK-BwUjil3IUg_J-yC-CUu5jZWcExjzlp-bwAArsv-lsxIPtajmVhBRCLiFzerad4zvylnL5KH9LVQWE1lYT9-GugtQ/s1600/IMG_6490+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDslP_uYB_fqYorlrzuERYaGd9whpmS8k8SXiIYB_FhZkkmvhDK-BwUjil3IUg_J-yC-CUu5jZWcExjzlp-bwAArsv-lsxIPtajmVhBRCLiFzerad4zvylnL5KH9LVQWE1lYT9-GugtQ/s1600/IMG_6490+-+Copy.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
Coming over the pass, it was a long traverse down to the bottom of the valley and then the trail started up again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2LrvvbbJnVEa_EsMczQ-hMj7wdGIWu3qRCEvi7gRgyKF2RlPCnjrisdkgD4m1oNtuCJVuIjhKl-8sgUpMksU3fKhl5TZ_78O5w0HM-UaRaSfszzuOvJrzktQeTbuiFIQNt9Z5CYemR2o/s1600/IMG_6491+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2LrvvbbJnVEa_EsMczQ-hMj7wdGIWu3qRCEvi7gRgyKF2RlPCnjrisdkgD4m1oNtuCJVuIjhKl-8sgUpMksU3fKhl5TZ_78O5w0HM-UaRaSfszzuOvJrzktQeTbuiFIQNt9Z5CYemR2o/s1600/IMG_6491+-+Copy.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
The trail has come over the pass in the middle of the photo. I'm now about to ascend Woody Pass, the last pass, on the PCT before descending to the US/Canadian border.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-31240990199617448922013-09-21T07:04:00.000-07:002015-03-03T14:00:30.377-08:00Part 205 - But What Did You Eat<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">On the
climb up Hancock Mountain, on all twenty switchbacks, I practiced
"pressure breathing" and can report that it made a significant
difference. I didn’t walk a whole lot
faster, but I also didn’t have to stop and rest very often. I found it ironic that I discovered this
simple, but effective breathing technique on the last few days of my journey;
but perhaps future, aspiring Pacific Crest Trail hikers will surely benefit
from this knowledge</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Climbing
and descending, never taking a break because I got cold when I stopped, I kept
a steady pace as I plodded through the never-ending green forest. Only by walking could I stay warm. I ate snacks continuously, but it was never
really enough to satisfy my insatiable hunger. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
rain continued its steady drizzle making the trail slippery with gooey mud;
several times, on a downhill course, my feet flew out from underneath me and I
landed in a heap in the middle of the muddy trail. I could see how easy it would be to twist an
ankle, or worse, break an ankle as Gourmet did last year. Hart’s Pass was my next resting point, and I
hoped I would arrive intact. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I had
no idea what to expect at Hart’s Pass; it was a total mystery to me. I had read a number of journal accounts of
hikers’ encounter with this last outpost of civilization – thirty miles before
the Canadian border, and from these accounts, I knew there was a well-maintained,
but infrequently used Forest Service road, a Forest Service guard station that
sometimes had a resident campground host, picnic tables and registration box,
and most important – a cement vault restroom that offered protection from
inclement weather. More than one account
talked about hikers, who in the midst of miserable, cold, snowy weather, would
sprint up the trail to partake of the shelter provided by the cement toilet. Some accounts talked about hikers actually
spending the night inside the cold, windowless structure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">After
hours of hiking in weather more suited to polar bears and penguins, it was now
time for my introduction to Hart’s Pass and the cold, impersonal cement vault
toilet. I approached the area by first
walking down a small incline; then as the trees opened up, there before me was
the Forest Service guardhouse, a time dated, wooden structure built before
1940, situated on a small knoll, with the well-maintained, but infrequently
used road running in front of it. Off to
my right was the picnic area, trailhead parking lot, and the much-venerated
cement vault toilet. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
trail I was on ended at the road, and I saw no continuation of it on the other
side; I walked down the road a ways, hoping to spot it, but no luck. Inasmuch as there was a pickup truck parked
in front of the guardhouse, I decided to save myself time and effort trying to
locate the trail, and just ask for directions from whoever answered the door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">One
knock on the side door awakened the sleeping giant that guarded the other side
of the door, and when the owner appeared in the doorway, it was all he could do
to restrain the large dog that was desperately trying to break free of its
leash in order to gain access to my legs that would probably taste like chicken
nuggets to him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">As
quickly as he could, in response to my question, the owner of the hyperactive
dog, the host of the campground, informed me that the trail took off from the
road that went down the mountain, to the left of where I first entered the
gravel road. I thanked him, and quickly
back away from the lunging dog.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I backed
down the path leading to the guardhouse and crossed the road to the cement
toilet. It was time to get acquainted
with this legendary cement structure. Out
of curiosity, I opened the door and peered inside. A quick glance told me there was nothing
special about this toilet; it smelled like all the rest I had ever seen and
used, but there was one unique feature about this one; it had a cement roof
over the small cement pad in front of the metal door, as well as two cement
walls that supported the cement roof, which provided a semblance of protection
from the wind and rain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Basically,
it provided protection from the weather, without having to put up a tent. And right now, I desperately need that
protection. Under normal circumstances,
no one in their right mind would cuddle up to a Forest Service outhouse, but at
the moment, the whole hiking situation was a bit strained, and I was willing to
embrace and make a friend out of the un-embraceable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I need
protection from the weather, a chance to rest from the constant rain, and an opportunity
to fix a proper meal without resorting to putting up my tent in the mud that surrounded
the picnic area. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I placed
my pack in the corner of the two cement walls, placed a plastic trash bag on
the cement floor, and started unloading my pack – lunch today will be another of
those never-ending peanut butter and jam sandwiches on a flour tortilla shell. It was strange that I never got tired of those
sandwiches; after five months, I still liked them, and the same could be said
for Idahoan Instant Potatoes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">While I
was making preparation for a meal, I didn’t hear the car approach and park in
the parking lot. But momentarily, I
noticed a woman approaching the outhouse; because my stuff was blocking the entrance
to the facility, I told her I would move it, but she said not to bother. I moved it anyway and then walked away from
the entrance to give her privacy. While
I waited, I walked over to the Forest Service bulletin board that had basic
information about camping regulations and camping fees, what to do with garbage,
and the fact that bears are still about. Beside the car was the woman’s
companion, her husband I assumed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">We chatted
for a few moments and presently the woman reappeared. Both of them were apparently totally unaware
of the Pacific Crest Trail, as she asked a number of questions pertaining to
the trail. One question she asked was, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“How
far have you walked?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Twenty-six
hundred and thirty miles,” I replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">And then, as though she hadn’t heard my
answer, she asked again, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“No, I
mean, how far have you walked?” and again I answered,<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Twenty-six
hundred and thirty miles.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">She
stood there with a blank look on her face, as it took a moment for my answer,
repeated twice, to register with her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Next
question: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“What
did you eat?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I
answered that I was just about to make myself another peanut butter and jam
sandwich with a tortilla shell. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">At this
reply, she turned to her husband and said, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Anthony
(not real name), we could give him my sandwich that we had made at the sandwich
shop back in town; in fact, we could give him both of our sandwiches.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I was
stunned at this offer of generosity; I asked,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“What
will you do?” to which she replied, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“We’ll
just get new ones when we get back to town.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">And
with that, she turned her husband around, undid the straps to his knapsack,
reached in and pulled out two large, custom-made sandwiches complete with meat,
cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and slathered with pickle relish, mayonnaise, and
special sauce– the works, all on sourdough and whole wheat buns, easily the
equivalent of two foot-long Subway sandwiches. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">As she
handed them to me, I lost my composure, and quietly begin crying. I was humbled to my core. My shoulders, which were already rounded from
the weight of the heavy pack, sank lower, and I just stood there, unashamed,
and wept. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Like a
mother reaching out to her child to give comfort and provide solace, the woman,
whose name was Beth, approached me, placed her arms around me and held me
tight, just like a mother would. And I
cried more. And not just because of the
bounteous food that had been given to me, but because of the constant strain
and physical hardship I had endured on this long journey, not that I was
complaining, for I chose to be here. Beth said, “This is the hug your wife would
give you, if she were here.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-3150340681987457282013-09-20T06:57:00.000-07:002015-03-03T13:59:04.050-08:00Part 204 - Bodil Freezes to Death<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Day 3 – Monday,
September 23, 2013</span></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Even though I was camped under the trees last
night just before Glacier Pass and somewhat sheltered from the drizzling rain,
I awoke to an inch of snow on the ground; it was a harbinger of what was to
come. At this point, with snow falling and knowing I needed to hurry
along, I didn’t fully realize how close I was to total disaster - to either
being stranded in the mountains, surrounded on all sides by three feet of snow;
possibly needing an air rescue; or having to retreat down the mountain to
Hart’s Pass or Rainy Pass, and ending the journey just miles from the border.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was cold last night, but not to the point of
freezing the water in my water bottles; nevertheless, I was constantly rubbing
body parts in an effort to gain enough warmth to go back to sleep. I
had three days left to make it to the border, and the end of the trip was
playing out as I feared it would – snow in the high mountains of the North
Cascade Range. It was now a race against time to get out of the
mountains and to the lower elevations surrounding the Canadian border before
the trail was covered and lost in the snow. Because of my age, I had
known from the very beginning of the journey that I couldn’t afford to waste
time on the trail; I have had to push, push, push. Within the next
three days, I will know if the days of getting up early and making miles before
other hikers were even stirring, was worth the effort.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Out of my tent and on the trail, I pushed on. Hancock
Mountain loomed in front of me, and it would take twenty switchbacks to climb
to the top.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today was as cold and miserable as it has ever
been on the trail. I was wearing every piece of clothing item I
possessed, which wasn’t much. The wind bit at my cheeks and turned
my nose red; my nose dribbled constantly and wiping it with the fabric of my
rain jacket only agitated and aggravated the soreness of it. My wool
mittens were wet and offered only marginal protection from the rain and cold. My
shoes – well, they haven’t been dry in days, and I can’t feel my feet.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I struggled up the trail, moving higher and
higher into the snowy mountains, I was cognizant of some of my ancestors who,
145 years ago, also struggled with early September/October snowstorms on the
windswept plains of Wyoming as members of the Martin-Willie Handcart companies.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Martin-Willie Handcart
Companies</span></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mormon pioneers, during the decade of the 1860s,
made the trek across the Midwest to the mountain valleys of the Great Salt Lake
mainly by wagon train. But oxen and wagons were costly and travel
was slow and many of the new converts arriving on the American shores were poor
and could ill afford the cost of even this simple mode of transportation. Church
leaders had seen ‘49ers trudging through the newly founded city of Salt Lake,
heading for the gold fields in California pushing wheelbarrows loaded with all
of their belongings, moving much more rapidly across the prairies than
conventional wagon trains and at considerable less cost; thus was born the idea
of letting new emigrants use handcarts that could be pulled and pushed across
the land.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ten companies of Mormon emigrants made the
thirteen-hundred-mile handcart journey from Iowa City, Iowa, the western
terminus of the rail line, to the Great Salt Lake; but in 1856, two companies
of approximately 980 souls, ran into trouble in central Wyoming when early
winter snows descended upon them. During this time on the trail,
approximately 280 people died from sickness, exposure, and other maladies.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Their late departure from England had a snowball
effect on the rest of their journey to the Salt Lake Valley, and was the cause
of so many of their hardships. Iowa City, Iowa, was the jumping-off
point for the great journey to the West, but the James G. Willie and Edward
Martin companies didn’t leave until August 17 and 27 respectively, while normal
starting time was before July 7th.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’ve driven my pickup truck across Wyoming in
the wintertime, and when the wind is howling and the snow is in full blizzard
mode, it’s not a place for man or beast, and I can’t even begin to imagine what
these ill-prepared European immigrants had to endure being as poorly dressed as
they were. Most had no gloves, and many had no hats, only scarves to
wrap around the ears and head. Socks were a luxury item and shoes or
boots did little to protect the feet from frostbite. The most
difficult part of the journey was pulling the carts up and over fifteen-
mile-long Rocky Ridge in knee-deep snow in a howling blizzard.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">On one night alone, thirteen members of the
Willie Company died and were buried in a common, shallow grave in Martin’s
Grove, along the Sweetwater River. <i>(Howard)</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">The tender story of ten-year-old Bodil Mortensen
is often told during reenactments of the handcart trek across Rocky Ridge by
Mormon youth. Bodil’s father in Denmark could not afford to pay the
fare for all members of the family to travel to Utah at one time, so the father
sent the family piecemeal. Little Bodil was sent with other Danish
immigrants to join her sister in Utah, who had come the year before.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">On the painful trek across Rocky Ridge, Bodil
was given the responsibility to watch over other children; after twenty-seven
hours of trudging through the heavy snow, the company reached their campsite
along the Sweetwater River. Turning over her charges to other
adults, Bodil went to collect firewood. When she was found the next
morning, she was resting against the wheel of a wagon, twigs of sagebrush
clutched in hand, frozen to death. <i>(Olsen, 2013)</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">On the bus ride out of Stehekin back to the
trailhead, two older couples sitting behind me who were staying at the Stehekin
Valley Ranch, were talking about their hiking days when they were younger. I
couldn’t help but hear their conversation and listened a bit harder when they
started talking about a breathing technique called "pressure
breathing." Both men reported that they had employed this
technique on long climbs to high elevation, with great success.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now, I was all ears, as I listen intently to their
conversation, hoping they would divulge the secret of "pressure
breathing." At last one says, “Yeah, it was just a matter of
forcing out the last bit of carbon dioxide in the lungs by exerting pressure
with the diaphragm, rather than just exhaling with the chest.”</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I had labored up the mountains, day after
day, for months on end, never really being able to get sufficient oxygen into
my lungs, I listened to their conversation, and thought,</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Could it really be this simple? Could
I really increase my blood oxygen level just by exhaling – using my diaphragm,
rather than exhaling normally by the rise and fall of my chest?"</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfP6QlGgbKWTYJSz9KRKD9-P01FRvnGNHfCg-eZTG3Kg2M-sE9bX0rjIVCIAMPkwvU-q6wKKkuFhZVDZ5M-ZZ2P1Mghb8eevSbskchVN8E_vXC-kwY4DmNdeYSPL56Cd8w2VfnJ6Rn-WA/s1600/PullingTowardZion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfP6QlGgbKWTYJSz9KRKD9-P01FRvnGNHfCg-eZTG3Kg2M-sE9bX0rjIVCIAMPkwvU-q6wKKkuFhZVDZ5M-ZZ2P1Mghb8eevSbskchVN8E_vXC-kwY4DmNdeYSPL56Cd8w2VfnJ6Rn-WA/s1600/PullingTowardZion.jpg" height="314" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="text-indent: 0in;">Mormon pioneers struggling with their handcarts on the Wyoming plains.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-67373873667976916642013-09-19T06:44:00.000-07:002015-03-03T13:57:18.486-08:00Part 203 - Cutthroat Pass and Snow<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Day 2 – Sunday,
September 22, 2013<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">It was a dreary, dismal morning as I poked my head out of
the tent, to see what the day was going to bring. The rain was light, but it was also starting
to turn to snow as I made preparations to pack up my camp. I slept in all my clothes again last night,
including my rain suit, but it was still a cold night. My tent was wet, but I rolled it tight so
that it would slide easily into its stuff sack. Rain trickled down the back of my neck as I hoisted
my heavy pack to my shoulders and made the proper adjustments with the straps. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">After all these months on the trail, and the
many miles that have been covered, the pack was still heavy when I lifted it up
to sling it across my back, but once on my back, the weight was marginal. It felt comfortable; in fact, without the
pack on my back, I couldn’t walk a straight line – I was off balance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Up the
trail, in the early morning hours with light snow falling, I started the day’s
climb up to Cutthroat Pass. Within twenty
minutes of climbing, I saw the orange tent of the family with the little girl,
a few yards off the trail. The father
was up, standing outside the tent preparing breakfast. I left the trail and walked over to where he
was standing. I wanted to ask him how
his small daughter did with the trail yesterday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">He
replied that she did fine, that this was her third hike, and she truly enjoyed
being in the wilderness. Seeing that
there was movement in the tent, I asked if I might take a picture of the
family. He agreed and poked his head in
the tent and invited mom and daughter to come outside. Mom was dressed, but the
five-year-old, whose name was Sophie, is still wrestling with her shoes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Outside
the tent, the three stood in a row, mom and dad on each side of three-foot
Sophie, who was understandably shy. I
took several pictures with my Canon and then asked Sophie if I might take just
a picture of her; she agreed, as did her parents. I zoomed in and snapped several photos, but
because the viewfinder was foggy, I was not really sure about the composition
or quality of the pictures I had taken. I
took my leave of the family, and returned to the trail. Later, when I had time to review my photos, I
saw that in the first photo of Sophie, she was just standing there as a normal
child would, but in the second photo, without any coaching from her parents,
she had pulled the funniest face that absolutely cracked me up. It was a choice photo of a very small child in
the wild wilderness of the North Cascade Mountains.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">As I climb
higher the snow intensified until finally I was standing on the top of barren,
windswept Cutthroat Pass. Off to my right,
the mountain fell away into a large valley in which flowed the Cutthroat Creek;
to my left, I could see that the trail traversed across the steep, steep slope
of the mountain until it disappeared over Granite Pass. Cutthroat Pass was covered with a few inches
of snow, and more was falling. I was
concerned as to whether I should proceed on or find a place to camp and wait
out the storm</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">At this
point, the snow was not heavy; the trail was easy to find, and normally I
wouldn’t be concerned, but I was alone in the high mountains and to be honest –
a bit apprehensive. I decided to wait
out the storm, but there were no flat places on which to pitch a tent. After a quarter mile of walking, at the bottom
of a long scree slope, I saw what appeared to be flat rocks. I decided to set
up camp there. It was not easy walking
down the slope, and I knew I was going to curse myself when I had to walk back
up, but at the moment, it seemed the expedient thing to do. Upon reaching the bottom of the scree, I found
that the flat rocks were not all that flat, but I made the decision to be here,
and I would have to make it do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Just as
I was setting my tent out, high on the trail above me, I saw Lucky Man and
Yashinka hoofing it up the trail. Through
the snow, we waved at one another, and I was thoroughly chagrinned at being so
wimpy for wanting to seek shelter in such a relatively light snowstorm. By the time I got back on the trail, the two
of them were almost out of sight as they hiked over Granite Pass. These two, whose brief companionship I had enjoyed
and with whom I had walked with for thousands of miles, I would never see
again. The reality of ending the trip
and having all acquaintances and friendships scattered to the four winds was
gripping. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
trail on this side of the mountain and beyond Granite Pass traversed across
exceptionally steep mountainsides. It
was in this area that many hikers who continued their attempt to keep pushing
north, were eventually turned back by the deep snow after the massive snowstorm
on September 27 shut down the trail. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">After
climbing over Granite Pass and following the trail as it made its long traverse
across the mountain, I hiked over Methow Pass and proceed towards Glacier Pass,
where I would spend the night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">As I
hiked, I fantasize about having a bakery like the Stehekin Pastry Company bakery.
On the ocean voyage, I thought often about having my own bakery, devoted to making
cookies, and now, I found myself doing the same thing here on the trail. For whatever reason, I have a fascination with
pies and baked goods; maybe it’s a trait passed down through many generations
of European ancestry. What was unique
about the Stehekin Bakery was that it was a seasonal bakery far from the
crossroads of town life. When the vacation
season was over with and the tourists had stopped coming, the bakery shut down
– but what a captive audience they had during the tourist season.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I
fantasized about establishing a bakery and pie store in the desert, up the
Colorado River from Moab, Utah. It, too,
would be a seasonal bakery catering to mountain bikers and boaters, and like
Stehekin, during the tourist season, the bakery would have a captive audience. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46isDpCWXBxbN3ROfdE7mWj6Ei4rmjR-wwkDnverCGYBUahwlCo6_kxbe5c34asOmrmBaSeiy7f1P-aZdSoUbYsAnfrPBDKffpLgMzJozPeC3eu-76Fi5uOI508Ax58lp9NFpON1zYlQ/s1600/IMG_6477.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46isDpCWXBxbN3ROfdE7mWj6Ei4rmjR-wwkDnverCGYBUahwlCo6_kxbe5c34asOmrmBaSeiy7f1P-aZdSoUbYsAnfrPBDKffpLgMzJozPeC3eu-76Fi5uOI508Ax58lp9NFpON1zYlQ/s1600/IMG_6477.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
After leaving my campsite this morning, I encountered the family which had passed last evening with the non-stop talking young girl.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9v3CLNIojQrUpHfK9babJF5_O01g5bbs9ecKQRbRwDzlA2YMRD1KNw95JeVhwYHa2aP7CE73Ib4NpeRNI4RwHlKKXvAfdmLzuWqXhLG7ItuSLBt2EvruESkFttuFG5F-oTswUqwBDAnw/s1600/IMG_6478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9v3CLNIojQrUpHfK9babJF5_O01g5bbs9ecKQRbRwDzlA2YMRD1KNw95JeVhwYHa2aP7CE73Ib4NpeRNI4RwHlKKXvAfdmLzuWqXhLG7ItuSLBt2EvruESkFttuFG5F-oTswUqwBDAnw/s1600/IMG_6478.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
Mother and daughter were still in the tent when I arrived, but they agreed to come out to meet me and have their picture taken.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugvE9yGweVUWWWzUNKZ4-UDri8rZUCx_OLqT49wfEza8n2rXJzzdn5YrevTFiaF7pb6AZTw_evz7RW_viE9-A86GrFpu5Xg9q7E7ZoNZhTwx65_xTJEYEuFAIvKwGqI0DMfD85v6-4w0/s1600/IMG_6479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugvE9yGweVUWWWzUNKZ4-UDri8rZUCx_OLqT49wfEza8n2rXJzzdn5YrevTFiaF7pb6AZTw_evz7RW_viE9-A86GrFpu5Xg9q7E7ZoNZhTwx65_xTJEYEuFAIvKwGqI0DMfD85v6-4w0/s1600/IMG_6479.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
The five year old girl's name was Sophie, and when I checked my camera pictures later, I see that this is the face she gave me when I asked if I could take her picture by herself. Love the photo.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-36107708159628605202013-09-18T06:21:00.000-07:002015-03-03T13:54:57.258-08:00Part 202 - "You're Almost There<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Day 1 – Saturday, September 21, 2013<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Today, September 21, 2013, is the first of my last five
days on the mountain. The end is so
near, yet still so far, and I’m sorry to say, I really want this trip of a
gazillion miles to be over with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Judging
from the steel bear lockers found in the campground, I was in bear country
again; normally, I’ve been sleeping with my food ever since jettisoning my bear
canister at Donner Pass, and have experienced no problems other than a few mice
or maybe chipmunks. But just to be safe,
I stored my backpack with all its food smells inside the steel box. It must be bear proof, as it took me a few
minutes to figure out how to open the box.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">I was
on the trail by 6:00 a.m.; I had wanted to be moving earlier, but a headlamp
was now needed for early morning hiking, and all three of my headlamps have
malfunctioned – so, I had to wait for a reasonable hour to begin walking</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">From my
camp to Rainy Pass, it was only thirteen miles, not much as distances goes, but
it was all uphill, nearly twenty-three hundred feet of climbing. There are high mountains on either side of the
trail, so basically, I was walking in the valleys alongside flowing streams. The peaks, which rolled on forever, were
capped with glistening snow, signaling that winter was fast approaching, and it
is a sure sign to me that I need to keep hustling to make my eighteen miles per
day, in order to exit the trail next Wednesday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The trail
followed along Bridge Creek, crossing it several times on its climb towards
Highway 20, which in turn crossed over Rainy Pass; and like always, when
walking alone, I was deep in thought when my concentration was interrupted by
movement behind me. Turning around to
see what the commotion was, I suddenly come face-to-face with a group of
robust, fast-hiking teenage hikers, being led in the front and followed up in
the rear by camp counselors in their early twenties. I stepped off the trail to let them pass, and
they’re moving so fast that I didn’t have time to engage any of them in
conversation. In a flash, they were
gone, and I never saw them again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The one
thought that flashed through my mind as they effortlessly glided out of sight
after turning a corner in the trail – Ahhhh youth, what a glorious time that
was in my life, a time when all nine lives were still intact, a time when I dared
to swim a raging river, a time when I dared to climb rock cliffs without ropes,
a time when nothing bad could happen to me – then, I had to grow up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Where
the trail finally crossed Highway 20, I stopped to eat my lunch; the sun was
out, but it was still cold enough to keep my jacket on. I had a new food supply which meant a new bag
of frosted animal cookies, and I savored them one by one as I slowly devoured
them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Across
the road and back in the trees was a large parking lot where people could leave
their cars who were hiking in the area. As
I made my way to the trailhead, I passed, what I assumed to be a family -
husband and wife and small child making their gear ready in preparation for
getting on the trail. The woman, who was
very friendly, asked if I was a PCT thru-hiker, and when I said, “Yes,” she clapped
her hands together in excitement and said, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">“Oh,
you’re almost there.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">The
weather was turning foul and starting to drizzle, and the child was small. I hoped the parents were right about bringing
her into the forests in such menacing conditions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">It was
4:00 p.m. when I left the parking lot,
and I only hiked another three miles to a decent campground at the base of
Cutthroat Pass before stopping for the night. The camp had a small stream of water running
through it, so I decided to stay, having exactly made my eighteen miles for the
day. My tent was almost up when I heard
voices on the trail; it was the couple from the parking lot and their five-year-old
daughter who was chatting and singing as she walked, paying no attention to the
cold and slow drizzles. We waved at one
another as they passed by, and I watched them for a while, until they were out
of sight. I daresay that most children
would be whining and moaning if they had to endure an uphill climb in the cold
and rain, but this little girl was as happy as a lark. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">It’s
only 6:30 p.m. as I settled in for the evening, but I was tired and really wanted
the rest. Lucky Man and Yashinka came
into camp just before dark, and I motioned to them that there were additional
campsites down by the stream. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-38962023526507390142013-09-17T06:35:00.000-07:002015-03-03T13:54:33.364-08:00Part 201 - To "Mine" Own Self - Be True<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>To “Mine” Own Self – Be True</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Everyone
was in awe of Seth Goldberg’s principles, values, inner strength, and total
peace of mind. As a devout Jew, he was faithful to his beliefs and true
to himself. Even though he was mellow, Goldberg was definitely not a
passive soldier. When it came to fighting the enemy, he was always the
first volunteer for the terrifying missions. In fact, Goldberg saved the
life of every single man in his platoon at least once. He was a highly
decorated soldier at the end of World War II and his story will help each of us
put the war in its proper perspective.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Because
Goldberg was a true hero in every sense of the word, you would think that he
would have received many promotions and become a high-ranking officer during
the war. Quite the contrary. The officers were afraid to promote
Goldberg because he had the reputation of being a German-lover. Even
though he was Jewish, he didn’t hate the Germans like everyone else. He
said they were about the same as us, perhaps a little bit more hardheaded, but
basically the same. He said they had wives and girlfriends and families
who loved them and prayed for their well-being, just as we had. Goldberg
was not only empathetic, but he also spoke excellent German. Just before
the war broke out, Goldberg had attended college for three years in Germany
where his German roommate became his best friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">If
Goldberg liked the Germans so much, how was he able to fight them so well?
He simply replied, “The only way to stop the evil, corrupt Hitler and his
Nazis is to defeat the German people who have let themselves be deceived by
Hitler.” He said it was wrong to kill the Germans, but it was more wrong
for Hitler and his Nazis to annihilate innocent people and deceive the entire
world. Goldberg said that sometimes we are forced to choose between two
evils, and Hitler had to be stopped at all costs!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Once,
Goldberg stayed up all night trying to help save the life of a young German
soldier who had a bullet in his chest. The boy died early the next
morning and his fellow soldiers knew they saw a tear in Goldberg’s eye as he
began digging the grave.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Seth
Goldberg’s final story unfolded a few months after that incident took place.
In it lies the true nature of war.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The
platoon next to his caught a German trying to steal supplies. One of
their men was injured while arresting the German. The captors brought the
German to their camp on the way to the brig. The captain sentenced him to
be shot at dawn. As the night wore on, the men sat around the fire
talking about the homes they wondered if they would ever see again. The
German prisoner was walking towards the brig, and suddenly as the light of the
fire illuminated his face, Goldberg sprang to his feet. The muscles in
his neck and arms were bulging and tense. He shook his head and blinked his
eyes to confirm what he thought he saw. Then he leaped towards the
German. The guard’s first reaction would have been to protect the German,
for it wasn’t uncommon for a soldier to try to kill a prisoner when he
remembered that the prisoner had killed one of his buddies. But in this
instance, that was not the case. Before anyone had a chance to do
anything, Goldberg and the prisoner were hugging each other and kissing each
other on the cheek as they exchanged a few words in German. Everyone
watched in stunned amazement. That is, everyone except the guard, who shouted,
“Weiterlaufen schwein.” (Keep walking, pig.) The guard broke Goldberg’s
grip and resumed walking towards the brig. The guard looked at Goldberg
and said, “You ought to be shot, you pig-lover.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The only
thing that kept Goldberg from smashing the guard in the mouth was his deeply
instilled respect of authority. He turned around; every muscle in his
body quivered and he clenched his fists so tightly that he forced the blood out
of them. He sat back down and just stared at the ground.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The
captain received word of this little episode and immediately ordered Goldberg
to report to his tent. Tents are not soundproof and everyone within the
immediate vicinity clearly heard the captain order Goldberg to be the fifth man
on the sunrise firing squad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">When
Goldberg came out of the tent, the men asked him what he was going to do.
They reminded him that his refusal to obey a direct order would result in
his being shot himself. Goldberg replied, “I understand the consequences, but
how can I shoot my best friend, the man who was my college roommate? How
can I shoot a man my family loves – a man who has a wife and kids, - a man who
actually has changed my life for the better?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">So what
did Seth Goldberg do? Before I tell you the rest of the story, what do you
think you would have done? It would be hard to shoot your best friend,
but the German was going to die regardless of whether you personally pulled the
trigger. Refusing to shoot would mean that two men would die, instead of
one. What good would you be to your country if you were dead? Right? On
the other hand, what kind of life would you have if you knew that you knowingly
had served on the firing squad that executed your best friend?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">If you
understand the rules of war, you will argue that Goldberg’s role in the firing
squad wouldn’t make him guilty of the German’s death. The German would
die as a victim of martial law and Goldberg, as a participant in martial law,
would be acting as a soldier, not a murderer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Now, the
end of the story? Early the next morning, the firing squad executed both
Seth Goldberg and the German soldier who had been his best friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Let us
all seriously contemplate Seth Goldberg’s legacy – the blatant reminder of the
brutal ramifications of war – so that we no longer think of it in terms of
country against country or one political system and leaders against another.
War is common person against common person; man, woman, and family
against man, woman, and family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">We, as
brothers and sisters in the family of man, need to love, tolerate, and mutually
respect one another – only then can we “give peace a chance.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">In honor
of Seth Goldberg, let each of us first identify what principle (integrity =
virtues) we would be willing to die for and then passionately live for that
principle every single day of our lives. Only then can each of us claim,
as Seth Goldberg claimed, “to Mine own self I have been true.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>(Clark)</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnR1bxf7GZH67aXA8djVzlA6FmPG3PQOyUb9gMdjnHIsJngFMem060HZgLhb02E6HU-8kqW3YdjZTL0Sv_7Pq-pU0bOB3vz9Kvqt_hh9R6VJyOAPNcr5zrqS4_Mluv-NVQ_IwpuUwnAC4/s1600/German+POW+Mapleleaf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnR1bxf7GZH67aXA8djVzlA6FmPG3PQOyUb9gMdjnHIsJngFMem060HZgLhb02E6HU-8kqW3YdjZTL0Sv_7Pq-pU0bOB3vz9Kvqt_hh9R6VJyOAPNcr5zrqS4_Mluv-NVQ_IwpuUwnAC4/s1600/German+POW+Mapleleaf.jpg" height="640" width="612" /></span></a></div>
A German POW.</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-52451053194569205632013-09-16T21:04:00.000-07:002015-03-03T13:53:33.731-08:00Part 200 - I Stole It All <div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">As I
walked, I noticed that the trail paralleled an old wagon road called the Old
Wagon Trail.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span> It led to the first camp called Bridge Creek
Campground, and here, just inside the campground, which was relatively large,
was Joker sitting on a picnic table.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I walked
over to the picnic table and sat down next to him. He was alternately
looking at his maps and his smartphone, and I could tell he was someone who was
fully engaged with his electronic gadgets. After back-and-forth conversation,
mostly with me asking questions, he said he couldn’t live without listening to
music 24/7. He told me he had numerous games, movies, and TV reruns
downloaded onto his smartphone, and that once in camp and in his tent, he would
spend several hours playing games or watching a movie on the small monitor
screen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">After
getting this explanation from him about his phone, I asked him to show me his
iPod, which was about the same size of his smartphone. Personally, I’m
not really up to speed with electronic gadgets – it’s a generational thing; the
only music device I’ve ever listened to, besides a radio, was the tape cassette
player I had with me on my ocean voyage, so iPods are somewhat new to me,
although I do have a tiny iPod shuffle that I listen to. I asked Joker to
tell me about it, as it looked to be a little more complicated, and with many
more features than my postage-stamp size shuffle. He explained some of
the features and then said that the unit would hold 160 gigabytes of
information, which didn’t really compute with me. He continued by saying
that he had more music and books on tape downloaded into the iPod than he would
ever be able to listen to while on the trail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Now I
knew there was a cost to downloading music and books on tape to an electronic
device such as an iPod, and naively I asked Joker if he purchased all that
music. “No,” he said, and without flinching or batting an eyelash or
looking squeamish or showing any embarrassment, he proudly proclaimed,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“I stole
it all!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I didn’t
know how to respond, other than to ask,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“How did
you do that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He told
me about a file-sharing website that a user can link to, and after merely
registering with the site, has free access to files that others have uploaded
to the website.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Joker
left, indicating he was going to walk to the next campsite three miles up the
trail, and I was left to ponder on his comment,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“I stole
it all!” and it hit me hard that there was something wrong with Joker’s
attitude. I sensed that he felt empowered that he’d done something shady
and had gotten away with it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I asked
myself, “Is there a lapse here in ethics or perhaps a deficiency in integrity?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I
recognized that someone, in this case Joker, had benefited from someone else’s
hard work, i.e., songwriters, musicians, music directors, authors, and hadn’t
felt the need to compensate the individual for his/her work and effort, you
know, the small royalty fee one normally pays.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">How
important is this fee to the author of the pirated work? Other than the
initial payment for the story my father wrote, titled<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>This Island Earth</i>, the
small royalty fee for each copy sold was the only income my father had to
support his family of five children. It was bad enough when the agent who
was supposed to send the check to my father for the film rights to this novel,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>This Island Earth</i>,
which was made into a move in 1955, one of the first science fiction movies
ever to be made, absconded with the check.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">What is
there to say about ethics? Companies write a code of ethics that their
employees are expected to adhere to, i.e., keep honest books for the government;
society has ethics, codified or universally understood, i.e., refrain from
violence against others; and religion has ethics, i.e., don’t commit adultery.
In essence, ethics are a set of rules that help govern one’s behavior;
ethics are black or white, they’re right or wrong, never gray; they’re only
made gray by the choices we make and rationalization we do, to justify our
choices.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Integrity,
on the other hand, is a set of virtues – honesty, compassion, trust, respect
for others, that are rigidly adhered to. Integrity as a set of virtues
are not compromised; they can’t be bought, at any price, including one’s life.
Whereas many people can be ethical – living within the boundaries of the
law though always looking for loopholes, but lack the action associated with
integrity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Acting
ethically is what man does when others are present; integrity is how man acts
when no one but God sees him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It’s
unethical to steal from others; my father deserved every royalty payment he was
entitled to, and just because someone could download his material without
compensating him doesn’t make it right; its’ acting in an unethical manner and
without integrity.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">To
illustrate, in a very graphic manner, the importance of ethics and integrity,
of standing up for what you believe in, even if you stand alone, I share a
story from WWII about an American Jewish soldier named Seth Goldberg.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-43515532140458847392013-09-15T20:52:00.000-07:002015-03-03T13:53:12.434-08:00Part 199 - The Stehekin Valley Bakery<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">The bus
was packed with hikers returning to the trail after spending a night in
Stehekin, along with six tourists who were sightseeing. I knew all the
hikers and said “Hello” to each one as he/she filed off the bus. As they
were standing around, fiddling with their packs, getting ready to head up the
trail, I proposed to them that we take some group pictures, as this would be
the last time I will see any of them. They agreed and I asked one of the
tourists to take the pictures. These resulting digital pictures are
priceless, and are some of the best hiker photos I have of the entire trail.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">The bus
was ready to leave and I joined the tourists for the ride back into town.
One of the men, who was more talkative than the others, wanted to know if
I was Rabbit Stick; when I answered, “Yes,” he extended his hand and said he
was pleased to meet me, then turned to the others on the bus, and announced,
“We found him.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">I was not sure of what to make of all this or what he was referring to,
but then he added, “Your fame has preceded you.” I was still baffled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">It turned out some of the other hikers on the bus had been talking about
the seventy-year-old hiking the trail, who years earlier had rowed a boat
across the Atlantic Ocean. When they
discovered this person was I, they wanted to talk, but I didn’t. This type of conversation was always
embarrassing, so I try to shut it down as quickly as possible. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">En route to the small town of Stehekin and the boat landing at the upper
end of Lake Chelan, about twelve miles away, the shuttle bus made the first of
its four stops – the Stehekin Valley Ranch. For hikers who desired to overnight in
Stehekin, lodging can be expensive, but the Stehekin Valley Ranch generally has
accommodations and was a delightful place to stay; subsequently, groups of
hikers would often split the cost and share a room. To my surprise, I found Brownie here. He was among a number of guests getting on the
bus for the ride to town. He said he had
spent the night here and was now taking the shuttle to the next stop –</span><b style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"> The
Stehekin Valley Bakery</b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">, where he was going to hang out until the bus made the
return trip at noon, when he would get back on and return to the trailhead. I asked him how it was staying in the cabin
with a bed, clean sheets, pillows, hot shower, and a dining hall with sumptuous
meals provided; his basic response was, he didn’t want to torture me with the
details.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">The bus wound its way down the narrow valley, flanked on the right by
the Stehekin River, and on the left by a high mountain, the tops of which could
not be seen from the valley floor. Scattered
among the trees were cabins and homes, some of which were for permanent
residents while others were intended for the thirty- to forty-thousand guests
that visited Stehekin each summer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">The next stop was the Stehekin Bakery. I didn’t know if it was because I had been on
the trail for so long, that the mere thought of spending time in a bakery was
so overwhelmingly appealing, or because the quality of the baked goods were
heavenly beyond description; more than likely, it was both. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">I had a hole burning in my pocket as I stepped off the bus. I couldn’t wait to spend what cash I had left
on whatever sweet, sticky items the bakery had in stock. When it was my turn to stand in line, I simply
couldn’t make up my mind what to order, when actually I wanted one of
everything. I think that was why Brownie
had come back to the bakery. I didn’t
recognize a number of items, so I just started pointing, and telling the clerk
I would take one of those, one of those, and one of those. The items were expensive, as one would expect,
inasmuch as all ingredients had to be brought in by boat, as there were no
roads into Stehekin; however, the establishment could have charged a lot more for
their pastry, and I would gladly have paid the price; I was ready for all
things sweet. I walked out with two
sticky buns, a cinnamon roll, a couple of cookies, and a pint of milk.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 10.2pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Stehekin was an absolute place of beauty, serene
and pristine and only wide enough to have one street going into town.
Actually, it was not even a town; it was just one large building at the end of
the road – the North Cascade Lodge that began and ended at the waterfront where
the boat dock was located. The lodge hosted a restaurant, a small
convenience store, and had a variety of room accommodations depending on the
number of people in the party. A hundred yards west of the lodge was the
only other building in town – the post office, where hikers went to pick up
their resupply packages. There were not enough food supplies at the
convenience store for hikers to resupply with, so everyone had a box waiting
for them at the post office.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-line-height-alt: 10.2pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">Across the street from the lodge entrance was the boat dock for boats
and seaplanes, which was the only way to access this precious jewel of a community
at the western end of fifty-mile-long Lake Chelan. I was so impressed with the area that I would
definitely return for a visit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">While packing the contents of my resupply box into my backpack, waiting
for my sleeping bag to dry, and washing out my socks in the bathroom sink of
the lodge’s public restroom, I missed the noon shuttle heading back to High
Bridge and the start of the trail, but I did make the two o’clock shuttle,
which again stopped at the bakery. The
shuttle driver didn’t stay long, but I rushed in quickly and made additional
purchases; all total on my two visits to the bakery, I spent twenty-eight
dollars, and would have spent more for later consumption on the trail, if I had
had room in my backpack. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">The bus was full as we departed from the boat dock adjacent to the
lodge, but only four of us would be going all the way to High Bridge at the end
of the road; the other passengers got off at the Stehekin Valley Ranch, where
they had overnight accommodations. Besides
trail hiker Joker (not his real trail name), and myself, there were two brothers
on the bus who were on a quest to hike to the top of nearby McGregor Mountain
where their father, years before, had been employed as a fire watch lookout. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">As the bus passed the post office in town, it slowed down a bit, as there
was rock and rubble debris next to the road, and men with excavating equipment
were standing off to one side of the road conferring with each other, and
occasionally casting glances in our direction. The object of their inquisitive eyes were the
remains of a massive landslide that roared down a small creek several weeks ago
(September 5, 2013), destroying a number of cars parked in a public parking lot
and wreaking havoc with the only through street in town. Park Service personnel, along with contracted
workers, were still working at cleaning up the mess and extracting the vehicles
still buried under the mud and rubble. Just
poking through the blackish mud and broken rocks were the remains of an ancient
SUV, probably an early Dodge Caravan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">Before Joker set out on the trail, which continued its way up the
mountain behind the restored Park Service horse corral, he took the buds from
his iPod and inserted them into his ears. It was the largest iPod I had ever seen and I
was intrigued by it, but before I could ask questions, Joker started up the trail
and was quickly out of sight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">It was late afternoon now, and I knew I would not be going far up the
trail. My maps indicated there were two
camps to choose from – one in five miles and the other within eight miles. I told myself I would make the decision of
where to camp when I reached the first one, and could better gauge the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhefSCYDKWf7gmKOLUniqP-pP_nRUPLe-bPswViEYsrvyn_-kYbgMlLES6p_R61y6vPdyVq1YkE4MftDzsXDh4Z8O0g327yhYPsZFWBvd0u9lII8LoHLe11vO-uQztPCRcfXoYOuZHx4jM/s1600/Goodies.Stekehin+Bakery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhefSCYDKWf7gmKOLUniqP-pP_nRUPLe-bPswViEYsrvyn_-kYbgMlLES6p_R61y6vPdyVq1YkE4MftDzsXDh4Z8O0g327yhYPsZFWBvd0u9lII8LoHLe11vO-uQztPCRcfXoYOuZHx4jM/s1600/Goodies.Stekehin+Bakery.jpg" height="481" width="640" /></span></a></div>
By the time a hiker, who has already hiked 2,500 miles reaches the Stehekin Bakery, all reasonable expectations of what he/she might find are completely blown out of proportion. The bakery becomes the holy shrine for which the long pilgrimage has been made. Had I had the money and the time to enjoy my purchases, I would have bought one of each, and not faulted myself for my weakness. My rational would be that this was going to be a once in a life time experience and I wanted to make the most of it.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHFPjb01HnAOU6AApuoTbtvBiEptrY5fodZlyTEidD9UywqH2qHls7r_QApkCqzm2YHK1xJpS0yAq8eWIW4PtU1do9A1gSNne_MaHVK0q79aTSs3wENKlBy7ABVnPJaPudD4Xcv5bZJU/s1600/IMG_6465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHFPjb01HnAOU6AApuoTbtvBiEptrY5fodZlyTEidD9UywqH2qHls7r_QApkCqzm2YHK1xJpS0yAq8eWIW4PtU1do9A1gSNne_MaHVK0q79aTSs3wENKlBy7ABVnPJaPudD4Xcv5bZJU/s1600/IMG_6465.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
Behind me, as I take this photo is the boat dock and Lake Chelan. In the photo is the main building that constitutes Stehekin - The Stehekin Inn, cafe and store.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2h6kAwKvgAowTgxRyFr_uOXkdOW4hFAgl06e7yEBTdyX4YpHHlP_8RbEj_Fdo73dvkAZb7O_U3jKD1MYCWcPYNyT-brBimWWKikSIBkTs9cdTCiLA-99j4xnJ4QzRE2GlC-m1LsrIPeo/s1600/IMG_6466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2h6kAwKvgAowTgxRyFr_uOXkdOW4hFAgl06e7yEBTdyX4YpHHlP_8RbEj_Fdo73dvkAZb7O_U3jKD1MYCWcPYNyT-brBimWWKikSIBkTs9cdTCiLA-99j4xnJ4QzRE2GlC-m1LsrIPeo/s1600/IMG_6466.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
Another shot of the same building.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gY9pmCZ-u7ahuOnrlVUp64aPSwPgFEE6kicLjHb6yW2q8pp_A1-C3i2S4Xa4shxZVYqCq7787zZYjNCxvyr0Kt34ih2IlGjWQZWpChZYByurwfmfvEJgyqzsyLrsx1hMtolHJyY_Xwg/s1600/IMG_6467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gY9pmCZ-u7ahuOnrlVUp64aPSwPgFEE6kicLjHb6yW2q8pp_A1-C3i2S4Xa4shxZVYqCq7787zZYjNCxvyr0Kt34ih2IlGjWQZWpChZYByurwfmfvEJgyqzsyLrsx1hMtolHJyY_Xwg/s1600/IMG_6467.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
In Stehekin, there is only one major street and this is it. The NPS shuttle bus, seen here loading passengers, will shortly depart for the Stehekin Bakery and the High Bridge turn around.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-85747223947328912442013-09-14T20:42:00.000-07:002015-03-03T13:50:59.897-08:00Part 198 - Government Shutdown<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Nurse
Betty was wise in the decisions she made regarding her position on the trail in
relationship to the lateness of the season.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span> By
flipping north, and then walking south, she was able to complete the Pacific
Crest Trail hike, something many other hikers were unable to do. Many, only
thirty miles from the border, were forced to abandon their quest during this
2013 hiking season because of cold, ice, and snow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Nurse
Betty warned me about a massive trail washout some forty-five miles north of
Stehekin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“The
washout,” she said, “occurred during a larger than normal rainstorm on August
23. She said the rain gouged four colossal gullies across the trail, some
twenty feet deep and fifty feet wide, exposing many loose rocks and boulders
that made hiking down into the craters and back up the other side extremely
dangerous. She said it took her forty-five minutes to travel just a tenth
of a mile, and she had to do this twice – both hiking to the border and
returning. I thanked her for the information, wished her well on the rest
of her journey, and then we parted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">High
Bridge over the Stehekin River Gorge, the town of Stehekin, and the upper end
of Lake Chelan has been incorporated into the National Recreation Area,
administered by the National Park Service. Several times a day, twice in
the morning and twice in the afternoon, an NPS bus makes a round-trip journey
from the boat docks in Stehekin, twelve miles up the road to High Bridge,
picking up and dropping off tourists and weary hikers at scenic attractions
along the way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Knowing I
couldn’t make the last bus pickup at High Bridge by 4:00 p.m., I camped for the
evening a few miles upriver from the High Bridge river crossing. At
several places in the Agnes Creek Gorge, the trail passed close to the edge of
the gorge. It was at one such place that I found a flat spot to put my
tent up for the night. It was not the ideal place, but it was the only
one I could find, and after erecting the tent, I surveyed the area to see how
much latitude I had to roam before walking off the cliff. I do this
because I’ve been known to sleepwalk; also, I needed to know how far I can
wander when I get up in the night, "to see a man about a horse."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">After
another fitful night of cold sleeping, constantly rubbing my arms and legs to
get some warmth back into them, I was on the move by 5:00 a.m. The days
are short, so it was still dark for another hour. I didn’t have to get up
this early, but it’s habitual now. It was not raining, but I still wore
my full rain suit just for added warmth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">At 7:30
a.m., I crossed High Bridge spanning the Stehekin River, walk up a small hill
to the one-time Forest Service Ranger Station, now a private residence and the
turnout for the National Park Service (NPS) shuttle bus. On one side of
the road, there was an NPS bulletin board, with a number of information notices
stapled to it, and on the other side, was a log bench where one could wait for
the shuttle bus. I had an hour and a half to wait for the bus, so I used
the time to make breakfast and dry out my tent, sleeping bag, and assorted
clothing items.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Adjacent
to the guard station were several outbuildings and a corral with information
signs placed in front of them, explaining to visitors the historic use of these
buildings and the fact that they had recently been restored. After
reading these signs, I wandered back to the NPS bulletin board, and out of
boredom read all the regulations for camping and hiking in the Stehekin
National Recreation Area.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Of
particular interest to me was a sheaf of papers stuffed inside a plastic cover
to protect it from the rain and attached to the bulletin board by a string
nailed to the wood. I picked it up, read it, and looked at the pictures
and message. It wasn’t good reading, for it described the massive washout
that Nurse Betty had told me about yesterday during our meeting on the trail.
The pictures were exactly as she had described the washout, but now I could see
them in more graphic detail, and the crossing looked to be even more
intimidating.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">These
pictures got my attention and caused me some anxiety; but they were two weeks
old and my hope was that hikers before me had found a way through, and I would
be able to follow in their footsteps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I crossed
the High Bridge and road leading into Stehekin on Friday, September 20, 2013.
Here on the trail, in the wilderness, I was almost totally isolated from the
outside world; I had no access to news outlets, and I was totally in the dark
as to what was happening in the nation and in the world. However, the one
thing I did know was that the two factions of the national government – the
Democrats and the Republicans, could not agree on a spending budget for the
year 2014. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The Republicans were furious with the passage of President
Obama’s signature health care legislation – The Affordable Health Care Act,
termed Obamacare, and were seeking to overturn the law, or at best delay its
implementation by not appropriating funds for it; in addition, they didn’t want
to raise the national debt ceiling, which was now over $17 trillion and rising.
Thus the impasse in congress, which resulted in a government shutdown
beginning October 1, 2013, ten days after I left Stehekin, and lasted until
October 16.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">What did
this have to do with hikers on the Pacific Crest Trail in Stehekin and beyond –
everything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">All
nonessential federal installations were shut down, including, but not limited
to: tours of the White House, the Statue of Liberty, the Smithsonian, the
National Museum of Art, WWII and Vietnam War memorials, and most important -
the National Parks and Monuments; likewise, eight hundred thousand federal
employees were furloughed indefinitely, while another 1.3 million federal
workers were required to report to work without known payment dates.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Right on
schedule, the brightly colored red NPS shuttle bus with black front fenders
drove up the road and pulled into its assigned parking spot on the other side
of the NPS bulletin board. As a tour operator in Southern Utah, I had
seen a lot of modern midsize tour buses, but nothing compared to the bus that
had just stopped in front of me. It was a modern version of the tour
buses used in Yellowstone, Glacier, and Yosemite Parks in the 1930s, its most
notable feature being the rounded back used on buses of that era. I was
curious as to who manufactured the bus and discovered that it was a specialty
bus assembled by the Arboc Specialty Vehicles in Middlebury, Indiana.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5MCcfHpwvD3CaFIv4VeU1kbEYTWRyBxJgc_hWqU9_I7dRpOmKcjF8fmQ5GKOCQtZ_3rE6WXRxm9M71x6qogRYF_vDSJjaYOjHIllwyRnOUqwXuKdzzHzJsvn3BYvWrxM9Y4Wo-WM6_6U/s1600/IMG_6458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5MCcfHpwvD3CaFIv4VeU1kbEYTWRyBxJgc_hWqU9_I7dRpOmKcjF8fmQ5GKOCQtZ_3rE6WXRxm9M71x6qogRYF_vDSJjaYOjHIllwyRnOUqwXuKdzzHzJsvn3BYvWrxM9Y4Wo-WM6_6U/s1600/IMG_6458.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
The ranger station, that is now a private residence, just over the High Bridge that spans the Stehekin River. The ranger station is the end of the line for the NPS shuttle bus that comes up from the settlement of Stehekin located on the water front of Lake Chelan, 12 miles distance.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhce_OTvaw0sPoMNMCyzEPwTA01zVo6F4OAZ-iYfEW3BUk_-irMp0BRz86TdGxGg0PdymXAUd8el2lFPb4e6FT5IS8khTHmraBNuB8T5mAo1kxL0suuBMxpeRO1qJRs9889_wIRtTuaihE/s1600/IMG_6464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhce_OTvaw0sPoMNMCyzEPwTA01zVo6F4OAZ-iYfEW3BUk_-irMp0BRz86TdGxGg0PdymXAUd8el2lFPb4e6FT5IS8khTHmraBNuB8T5mAo1kxL0suuBMxpeRO1qJRs9889_wIRtTuaihE/s1600/IMG_6464.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
The National Park Service (NPS) shuttle bus picking up tourist who have just arrived on the ferry boat from the town of Chelan, 50 miles down the lake.<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-1516296267462600582013-09-13T20:37:00.000-07:002015-03-03T13:49:23.772-08:00Part 197 - Shouted Every Four-Letter Word<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">From Mica Lake, the
trail dropped dramatically to the valley floor through which flows Milk Creek, whose
head waters are Milk Lake, a small glacier-fed lake high up on the mountains
and over a ridge, making it impossible to see from the trail. Milk
Creek was a major tributary of the Suiattle River, which is one of two primary
rivers (White Chuck River being the other) that funnels snowmelt off Glacier
Peak and out to the Pacific Ocean, seventy miles away.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Milk Creek, like Kennedy
Creek, has a tendency to lose its bridges. In 1973, there was a log
crossing that was replaced in 1974 by a $40,000 permanent bridge, that in turn
was wiped out by an early summer avalanche in 1975. (Schaffer, p. 302)
There have been other bridges across this dangerous stream, the last one
in 2008. This latest bridge is made of steel girders, held together by
five-pound riveted bolts. Most of the heavy steel girders were ferried in
by helicopter to the construction site and assembled here. There is no
guarantee that this steel bridge will be in place when future hikers reach this
spot.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">From Milk Creek, the
trail began an upward climb through an unbelievable number of switchbacks.
All the way to the top, I counted units of eight, sixteen, twenty-four,
sometimes going as high as ninety-six steps, before resting and starting over
again. The climb was a grind, and very painful; I had to stop often to
rest. The rain continued its steady drizzle and I was cold, and getting
colder. My legs were like blocks of cement, and the effort to place one
foot in front of the other was agonizing. At more than one point in the
climb, I leaned on my trekking poles, head resting on my crossed hands and
alternately cried and prayed. I was miserable beyond belief. I was
alone and the loneliness was gradually starting to wear on me.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">On the ocean, towards
the end of the trip, loneliness, equipment breakdowns, periodically being
drenched by salt water, which aggravated and pained the salt water sores on my
rear end, akin to diaper rash that a baby experiences, and a longing for the
trip to be over with, brought me to my breaking point. In this heightened
state of agitation, the last wave that broke over the side of the boat,
drenching me from head to toe in caustic salt water causing stinging pain in my
derriere, shorting out for good my tape cassette player, my only source of
entertainment in an otherwise dreary environment – put me over the edge, and I
exploded in rage.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I began to shout and
scream and rant and rave as loud as I could, and I commenced swearing,
something I never do. I shouted and screamed and yelled every four-letter
word I could think of, and I did it over and over again; for five minutes or
more, I let loose a blue streak that would have put any salty-dog sailor to
shame. I was so exasperated, so despondent and so discouraged; my
frustrations had been building for weeks, and finally it all blew. I’m so
glad there was no around to hear me; it was awful, but liberating. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">The trail was in deep
forest now which obscured most of the glaciers around the mountain. There
was one more treacherous river to cross, the biggest of all in this North
Country – the Suiattle River. This river crossing, too, had seen its
share of shattered and destroyed bridges, and for several years, the only way
to get across it was via a huge log that had toppled across the stream.
To see pictures of this log and hikers crossing it, one may Google
Suiattle River Bridge for YouTube videos of hikers crossing on the log.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">From the Milk Creek
Bridge crossing, I walked twelve miles to the trail junction where the old PCT
headed down to the original Suiattle Bridge crossing. From this junction,
it's 2.2 miles to the river and the spot where the 265-foot-long wooden Skyline
Bridge once stood. It was completely destroyed by a massive flood on
October 17, 2003, that tore through the canyon at locomotive speeds.
Fueled by ten inches of rain over a vast area of the Glacier Peak
Wilderness, the PCT lost eight bridges that October.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">It would be eight years
before a new bridge over the Suiattle River could be built; until then, it was
the log over the river or nothing. Those with confidence and good balance
would walk across it; all others had to straddle the log with their legs and
scoot across on their bums. The river wasn’t that wide, but it was fast and
deep enough to easily swallow a hiker.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">A new bridge site was
located two and a half miles downriver, where the span would be shorter than
the original Skyline Bridge, and bedrock was available right at the water’s
edge for supporting steel pilings.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">It took an hour to reach
the new bridge, and what a beauty it is. Like the new Milk Creek Bridge,
this one also is built of steel girders, assembled on-site. It took some
arm twisting for the Forest Service to get permission to use helicopters in a
wilderness area to bring in the heavy steel beams and other construction
material, as well as permission to use chain saws and dynamite to facilitate
the removal of tree root balls and boulders for an extension of the trail.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Suiattle River
crossing was the last major river crossing for the PCT; now the trail started a
long descent down Agnes Creek Gorge, which terminated at the High Bridge River
crossing over the Stehekin River. The trek down the Agnes Creek Gorge was
unparalleled beauty; it was highly reminiscent of views down Kings Canyon from
Forester Pass in the High Sierras, except that Agnes Creek Gorge “supports a
much denser growth of flowers, shrubs and trees.” <i>(Schaffer, p. 310)</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Working my way down a
long traverse on the side of the mountain, a lone figure appeared on the trail
far below me. As we closed the gap between us, I noticed something
familiar about the approaching hiker – the headband. Most hikers – male
and female, wear a hat and only a few – mostly females, wear a headband.
As we continued to draw closer, from the headband, I recognized the hiker
as Nurse Betty, a hiker I hadn’t seen since McDonald's at El Cajon in Southern
California, over twenty-five hundred miles ago. We were happy to see one
another, and stopped in the middle of the trail to exchange information. Nurse
Betty, who in the early stages of her hike, had been hiking with Cookie and
Peter Pan, had made it to Cascade Locks, but recognizing that she was behind
schedule and fearful that she might not be able to reach the Canadian border
before snow began to fall, flip-flopped to Hart's Pass (she did so by
hitchhiking) which was only thirty miles from the border, then continued north.
At the border, she signed the register, took several selfies, turned
around, and started hiking south. When she returns to Cascade Locks, her
journey will be complete.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEuHk4Jio7cqTtC5NEyS6WteHEiGVTNlHCzQcCTq0okXzXQ_KCeVvENnqrPELMM7YUso7o3_myVpHOLJQHhCc_Y7UjqRPcxWgaGeZflPkBOlSOlixkeg0417IIsAccgiwiLcXjPqeS60/s1600/Boat+in+Harbor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEuHk4Jio7cqTtC5NEyS6WteHEiGVTNlHCzQcCTq0okXzXQ_KCeVvENnqrPELMM7YUso7o3_myVpHOLJQHhCc_Y7UjqRPcxWgaGeZflPkBOlSOlixkeg0417IIsAccgiwiLcXjPqeS60/s1600/Boat+in+Harbor.jpg" height="640" width="481" /></a></div>
My high-tech rowboat sitting in the Tenerife Harbor ready to leave on it's five months journey across the Atlantic Ocean. Year: 2000</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-73733891663614055502013-09-12T20:32:00.000-07:002015-03-03T13:36:47.122-08:00Part 196 - Bridges Are Out<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The
couple who gave me the huckleberries said that Stehekin was over Red Pass and
down the valley; could it really be that close?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span> Could it really be just over the
hill?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span> I know I’m not
pronouncing the name Stehekin correctly, as I’ve never heard the word before; I
don’t know where to place the accent, but never mind, just thinking about the
name brings excitement to my soul, for not only is it the location of my last
resupply package, and not only is it situated just eighty miles from the
Canadian border, but it’s also the home of the Stehekin Bakery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">In the
trail journals of other hikers, I have read many glowing accounts of this
little isolated town with its outstanding bakery that is worthy of superlative
heaped upon superlative. For many reasons, I am overflowing with anxiousness to
finally arrive in Stehekin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It rained
all night, so what else was new; I was awake early, and anxious to get on the
trail. I shook the tent vigorously in an effort to dislodge the drops of
rain still adhering to the fabric of the tent, but to no avail. Fog was
still lingering in the low valleys, and a fine mist was falling from the
grayish matter swirling above my head. With stealth and deliberate
movements, not wanting to disturb Hermes and Lotus, I struck my tent, rolled
the soggy mess into a tube that resembled an elongated baguette, and stuffed it
into its stuff sack. Within a half hour, I was back on the trail, bundled
in my rainsuit with my fleece hat pulled down low over my ears, and the hood
and visor of my rain jacket pulled up over my hat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The trail
to Red Pass, though long, proceeded upwards at a gentle slope. Off to my
left, far down in the valley flowed the North Fork of the Sauk River, and I
could see several horses moving about and a wrangler chasing after them.
It might be that it was still hunting season.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The trail
was wet; the vegetation was wet; my shoes were sopping wet; and the trail was
muddy, but eventually, I topped out at Red Pass. And now I was looking at
the heart of Glacier Peak Wilderness. It would take a real wordsmith to
describe the grandeur of the spectacular beauty that was to be found on the
downhill side of Red Pass. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Mount
Baker was off to my left, while on the right, somewhat hidden from view because
of the cloud cover, was massive Glacier Peak; as I circumnavigated around it, I
could see the glaciers flanking its sides like pearls on a necklace – White
Chuck Glacier, Kennedy Glacier, and Scimitar Glacier. Snowmelt cascaded
down the mountain to form multiple streamlets that eventually flowed together
to become streams and creeks large enough to be named on Forest Service maps,
i.e., Sitkum, Glacier, Kennedy, Pumice, etc.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">From
personal correspondence with I’m Fine, who lives in Pennsylvania, I gathered
sufficient information from him that allowed me to pinpoint, on topographical
maps, the exact location of his winter ordeal here on the west face of Glacier
Peak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">After
crossing Kennedy Creek, the trail climbed in switchbacks up to Kennedy Ridge,
and to this point, even in deep snow I’m Fine was able to make out the trail by
the faint indent in the fresh powder. He postholed up the ridge to Glacier
Creek where he made his fatal mistake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The trail
crossed the creek, but being dark and buried in snow, he didn’t notice this
detail, and instead of turning left to cross the creek, he continued straight
ahead, climbing up the ravine, down which flowed Glacier Creek. He camped
for the night, hoping to find the trail in the morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">At a
point where it was no longer feasible to continue up the ravine, I’m Fine
turned right in an effort to go back down the mountain to connect with the
ridge he had walked up the day before. As he descended, the slopes become
steeper and steeper until they become drop-offs into a streambed.
Unbeknownst to him at the time, he had worked his way back down to
Kennedy Creek, where he elected to spend the next nine days, hoping for a
rescue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Two miles
beyond Glacier Creek, I made camp at the only flat spot around for miles.
It was an established campsite, large enough for three tents on the flat
ground. Along the way, I leapfrogged with Goodall and Blur and arrived at
the campsite first.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It had
been raining all day, and I was soaked and miserable; my shoes and socks had
not been dry all day. I desperately wanted to get into my tent, and just
go to sleep. As I was setting up my tent, Goodall and Blur came into camp
and they debated whether to stay or move on to another camp two miles up the
trail. I told them I would scoot my tent over so that they could put both
of their tents up. I did, and they decided to stay. Goodall is
small and petite and looked like a drowned rat; she was exhausted and I could
tell she didn’t really want to spend another hour walking in the rain, even
though her friend Blur was willing to hike to the next camp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Within
minutes, I had my tent up and was situated inside of it. I wish I could
say I was warm, but everything I owned was wet, or at least quite damp.
After fixing a bite to eat, I crawled into my damp sleeping bag fully
clothed, including my rainsuit. I had a pair of dirty, dry socks that I
put on in hopes of getting some relief from my frozen toes. I slept, but
only fitfully; many times, during the night, the cold woke me up and I had to
rub my chest, arms, and legs to get them warm enough to fall back to sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I felt hungry, and rather than
ignore the discomfort, I searched around for my food bag and extracted a peanut
butter cup; then using just my finger, I scooped the contents into my
mouth. Seriously, nothing tasted better at one o’clock in the morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">A light
drizzle was still falling when I awoke this morning and began preparing for the
day. When I went to bed last night, there were only three tents; now
there were six. The other hikers came in late, and with nowhere else to
go, they took what space was left and pitched their tents on sloping ground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">This was
a camping site where the Forest Service had installed a pit toilet; I decided
to use it this morning. It was situated away from camp and when I found
it, there was a note attached to the wooden lid that read:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“Wasp
nest inside toilet - got stung.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Being
somewhat of an urgent situation, I cautiously lifted the lid of the toilet to
check for flying buzz bombs; seeing none, I decided to chance it and considered
myself lucky to have walked away without any wounds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Thirty-foot-wide
Kennedy Creek, which I passed a few miles back, has an on-again, off-again
bridge that spanned its turbulent, glacier-fed waters. Today, the bridge
was there, or most of it; both ends of the bridge were intact, but the middle
had collapsed and the cold water of the creek was flowing over it. The
bridge at this location has a tendency to be wiped out by avalanches. I
doubt that it will be here after this hiking season, for either spring runoff
or another avalanche will surely wipe it out, and without the bridge, a
crossing at this location will be treacherous.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Clouds
are low on the mountains this morning, obscuring much of the glaciers around
Glacier Peak, but the scenery below the glaciers was as spectacular as ever.
The trail climbed to Fire Creek Pass and onto Mica Lake, so named because
of the tiny flecks of mica found in the andersite rock that reflected the
sunlight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3R5leKyB2SLiOHDZ2jO94wwgRI9PFpwpnCW-SomEPfv7G7LGAgy2IxrjdIahr9gvi9j9u9Vklxb8SHTwsCMhi5DoNllcX49WcF9VyupXFvJLWhyRFm6FPPWH_QwAerHMjGDLdVjX8b1A/s1600/IMG_6456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3R5leKyB2SLiOHDZ2jO94wwgRI9PFpwpnCW-SomEPfv7G7LGAgy2IxrjdIahr9gvi9j9u9Vklxb8SHTwsCMhi5DoNllcX49WcF9VyupXFvJLWhyRFm6FPPWH_QwAerHMjGDLdVjX8b1A/s1600/IMG_6456.JPG" height="481" width="640" /></span></a></div>
The bridge over Kennedy Creek. It's only a matter of time before a high spring run-off completely destroys it.<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-24583109621666998842013-09-11T20:03:00.000-07:002015-03-03T13:35:23.930-08:00Part 195 - He Went Through 6 of His 9 Lives<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thinking back I cringed
a little at the thought of how narrowly I had made it to where I was and what
would have happened if I made a mistake. I hiked back to the first spot I
reached on the ridge and resurveyed the surroundings. I hiked around the
area for a couple hours, backtracking two different times until I got back to
the same spot, and eventually traced my steps back to Glacier Creek, found the
Trail where it crosses, and followed it up to Fire Creek Pass, which was still
covered in snow about eight to ten inches deep and completely exposed, making
navigating very difficult.</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">The north side of the
pass still had deep snow drifts and I couldn't see the trail at all at some
points. I found my way until the trail became clearer, and I followed it
as it dropped in elevation, back into pine forest. It started raining
lightly and by nightfall I was pretty wet. I camped on the trail north of
Milk Creek. The next two passes between me and Stehekin were all pretty
much the same, difficult to maneuver, covered in snow, and sometimes
frightening.</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I made it to Stehekin on
a Friday, my last meal, if you can call it that, on Monday. Hiking
without any food, after already barely eating for 9 days previously, was very
difficult. Sometimes I could hardly keep moving when going uphill or
through the snow. Having to pick my feet up to step over logs or rocks
felt like I was lifting blocks of concrete. I ended up consuming massive
amounts of water in spite of hardly sweating. I weighed in about eighteen
pounds lighter when I got to Stehekin. I was ecstatic to have found my
way out and to eat again, but also extremely sore all over and maybe a little
disoriented by now.</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">After deciding to
continue north and complete my hike (with a GPS this time), my back pack was
unbearably heavy, as I carried a ton of extra food. It had to be at least
sixty pounds; the pack I carried into the Sierra being 55 pounds, and that
didn't feel nearly as heavy as this.</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">The first twenty miles
to Rainy Pass were all smooth sailing, then it started snowing, and by the time
I reached Cutthroat Pass, a fresh 3 -5 inches had fallen. As I approached
Cutthroat Pass, the higher I climbed, the more snow was left over from the last
storm, although it was frozen to a hard shell and very slippery and difficult
to walk on. The north side of the pass was worse and where ever there was
a steep ridge, the trail was completely snowed over, then frozen solid, making
it nearly impossible, and completely terrifying, to traverse.</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> South of Harts
Pass the trail was treacherous as well, and I had to traverse a section of one
ridge on my knees, facing the mountain, and stabbing my trekking poles a foot
into the snow as to anchor myself to the mountain.</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">North of Rock Pass I
slid out and went about 100 feet down the ridge until stopping myself by
digging my elbows and trekking poles into the ice and snow; then using my
trekking pole as a brake slid down the rest of the way to the next switchback.</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Several times it took
everything I had to keep going. The last day it never got above thirteen
degrees, and my nose was bleeding all morning from the cold dry air. By
nightfall, before the sun had even finished setting, my thermometer maxed out
at zero degrees. After the ice that had formed in my inflatable sleeping
pad the night before stabbed a hole through it, I set up a bed of pine branches
under my tent for extra warmth on the last night.</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I finished my thru hike
on November 11th. (Sarmento)</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m Fine just went
through six of his nine lives. For the rest of his life, he’ll be
treading on thin ice. From here on, every new day will be a bonus day for
him. He has much to be thankful for in that he did not perish from the
cold, snow, ice, and hunger. Had he succumbed to the elements, it’s
highly unlikely his body would ever have been found. And what about his
mother, father, and siblings; there would never be closure for them. I’m
Fine got lucky; he’s been given a second chance; it’s not something many people
get. Use it well, my friend.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Snows can come early to
the North Cascades, as it did this year ( late September 2013) and bury the
trail under three to six feet of snow. Even electronic GPS units, like
Guthook’s app for Smartphones that can pinpoint the trail under the snow, are
of little value in wilderness travel when the trail has to cross slopes with
unimaginable steepness to them, and where one misstep can result in a
thousand-foot slide to the rocks below.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">To be safe, future PCT
hikers should plan to end their journey by the last week of September.
Starting the middle of April from Campo gives a hiker a full five months
to make the journey; it may mean taking a few less days off the trail, but as
Virginia Reed said, <i>“Don’t take no shortcuts, and keep moving right
along.” </i> I’m Fine is a living testament of the necessity of
playing it safe and not dallying. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">For all of I’m Fine’s
miscalculations, I have the highest regard for this young man. He
displayed many of the characteristics that made Shackleton such a great leader.
I’m Fine almost "bought the farm,” but instead of bailing from the
trail and hightailing it out of the mountains, once he reached Stehekin and the
town of Chelan, located at the far east end of Lake Chelan, he resupplied at
Chelan with provisions, maps, additional clothing, a cell phone and a GPS unit,
and went back to the trailhead at Stehekin and continued north. That was
a gutsy thing to do; it was something Amundsen and Shackleton would have done,
and my hat goes off to I’m Fine.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Lesson learned, “if ye
are prepared, ye need not fear,” (D&C 30:38) and it’s not over until the
fat lady sings, and as a finale, for everyone’s peace of mind, end your trip
before the end of September.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4932563135450181714.post-76291607348841843992013-09-10T19:59:00.000-07:002015-03-03T13:34:05.876-08:00Part 194 - What Keeps I'm Fine Going <div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>When I
got to my back pack, which had rolled about twenty feet in the snow I noticed
that my camera had fallen out of my hip belt pocket. I dug all around in the
snow, went downhill, back uphill, nothing. I had lost the only thing
making me feel somewhat connected to the outside world/people. I lost my
video diaries of this whole misadventure. Felt more alone. I
continued forward until the ground got a lot flatter and stumbled through a
patch of small trees all bent over under the weight of the snow from knee to
chest height.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>I
reached one more small cliff and dropped down to the scree slopes of the canyon
below and started following the creek at the bottom downstream until after
about a quarter mile it dropped off steeply into a section of canyon with 20
foot vertical walls. I back tracked until I reached another waterfall.
Each side of the canyon was too steep to ascend; so on the floor of the
canyon between two branches of the creek, I stomped down and scooped out as much
snow as I could on the flattest spot I could find and set up my tent.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>And I
waited, and waited, and waited... and starved, and froze; and waited some more.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>On day
2 for some reason I had a premonition that after nine nights in my tent I would
be rescued. I spent those nine nights rationing food at 300-500 calories
per day; the first couple days were closer to six or seven hundred. The
first five or six nights were very cold, and during this period the snow would
melt a little during the day, then usually more snow would fall back to its
original level. After that it warmed up enough to rain, and even the
nights held only slightly below freezing. After nine nights, the snow was
mostly melted. During this period I spent all day, either hoping, day
dreaming, thinking, going crazy with hunger pains, and sometimes experiencing
intense anxiety, or laying down calmly to escape in a day dream.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>I
would sometimes feel good in my decision to wait for help, and other times I
contemplated trying anything I could to make an escape. I would drift
back and forth between feeling relatively calm and sedated, to helplessness and
anxiousness. At times I was confident that I would survive, and other
times I was less hopeful. By the fifth or sixth day I began imagining
airplane sounds from the noise the creek was making; by the seventh or 8th day
I began imagining helicopter noises, and by day nine or ten I would constantly
hear both airplanes and helicopters so I wore earplugs for the last two days to
try to protect my sanity the best I could.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>After
the ninth night the snow had melted enough that I should have made a break for
it then, but I decided to wait the day out in lieu of my premonition, and if I
hadn't been rescued I would go for it the next day. This was my first
full day with zero calorie intake. The day came and went, and when I woke
up the next morning I decided that if I were going to die in the wilderness, I
wasn't going to die laying in a nylon coffin in that god forsaken canyon which
I had grown to detest.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>I
packed up and headed for the waterfall upstream, and carefully climbed hand
over hand beside it, then followed the creek above to a low spot in the small
cliff above the steep canyon wall, the only possible chance I had of climbing
out. I crawled up the small scree slope on my hands and knees, then
grabbed onto rocks and roots to climb up the canyon wall. I reached a
shelf between the small canyon wall I climbed up and a large canyon wall on the
other side.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>I
fought through thick undergrowth and trees until I reached an exposed section
and climbed up a small knoll to view the surrounding area. I spotted my
best chance of getting up the canyon wall and back onto the ridge line that I
originally ended up on after glacier creek. Leading up to this small spot
was a steep scree slope, which I crossed very carefully, each ill placed step
sliding out. When I got to the point I would attempt to climb; I started
up, and grabbing onto the frigid rock face for dear life, made it up.</i><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmrJrFdmy-lUMVNMr7cRubpEEAFji1bNi_kxdSZR0jcw-AD6m5CLOWoqSHB5HSp-KL89PNdrc3X4LocrpUTVoBL72z4kRZXEVFBxRtWKs-hz3NFz5mrhKQ9aj2QzEeJvENMdhGfGEEfI/s1600/IMG_6456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmrJrFdmy-lUMVNMr7cRubpEEAFji1bNi_kxdSZR0jcw-AD6m5CLOWoqSHB5HSp-KL89PNdrc3X4LocrpUTVoBL72z4kRZXEVFBxRtWKs-hz3NFz5mrhKQ9aj2QzEeJvENMdhGfGEEfI/s1600/IMG_6456.JPG" height="477" width="640" /></a></div>
The Kennedy bridge is down, but not out. It's only a matter of time before a high spring run-off will completely destroy this vital bridge, and the Forest Service may not replace it.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSVy96_qywo6q_emNUvJBFLOQa3i6RbOhdFRCJNVxDGWGdef6WazwD9imvB5TgRjulMT6ymz0uNeGG1BOnC2Ac_4X1zmK88lJy1DfRaM3_IqiWQh5wo2_HzUshzb_q2fvVCf9SghyzIBE/s1600/IMG_6457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSVy96_qywo6q_emNUvJBFLOQa3i6RbOhdFRCJNVxDGWGdef6WazwD9imvB5TgRjulMT6ymz0uNeGG1BOnC2Ac_4X1zmK88lJy1DfRaM3_IqiWQh5wo2_HzUshzb_q2fvVCf9SghyzIBE/s1600/IMG_6457.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></span></a></div>
Signs along the trail.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0