Tag Archives: Bridgeport

Day 60 – Ceiling view at the Silver Maple Inn

July 1, 2013
0 miles

Unfamiliar surroundings as I opened my eyes. Where was the sky? Oh yeah I’m in a bed in the Silver Maple Inn. And that above me is what is called a ceiling. And nothing has any particular interest in eating me. Perhaps I shall go dine. And so I did, extracting roughly 3,000 cal from their continental breakfast.

Our Silver Maple corner

Our Silver Maple corner


As always in a town, it was a time of news. Both good and bad. Red Beard received the roughest of all. A good friend had lost his battle against cancer and had but a short time left. Being the man that he is, Red jumped on a bus to Reno, then a flight back to Seattle, to say a proper goodbye. His plan to be gone for a week will put him far behind us. But knowing the speed of red There will be a reunion down the trail at some point.

Spent the morning battling a communication and blog deficit. Had successes but the sand never stopped pouring downward and soon the sun was directly overhead. The plan was to return to the trail in the early afternoon. But a long lunch and a finicky resupply in a store with limited resources pushed the departure time ever back. The store was without couscous and my dinner prospects dimmed. An afternoon thunderstorm and shower further dampened a trail return enthusiasm. Time ticked and a meeting was held. SlacK, Orbit and I concluded that a day of leisure was in order. The cloud lifted and I exhaled.

Ran into our old friend otter and new friend Tortuga, on the street and rebooked our room as group.Then tracked down a fine corner office, encounsed myself, and completed all the requirements of a modern life as the afternoon ran towards evening. Satisfied, with the workdays production and the league standings of the Baltimore Orioles, I was happy to see Preston pull up in his truck with dinner plans in hand.

The evening meal took place in Preston’s Department of Fish and game trailer. The food was a bulking concoction created by Preston that was outstanding In both taste and appearance. Eaten communally on group plates using chips an enormous amount was consumed. The atmosphere was relaxed and old-fashioned, as orbit slack Preston and I took turns telling stories. The highlight was Preston telling of an early climbing accident in Pennsylvania.

Preston, at the time 12, and his older brother Jared who was 16 were free climbing along a cliff. In English, without ropes. Preston was above his brother when he fell. The ground was 80 feet away. Preston had fallen about 4 feet and was picking up speed when he sailed by his brother. Jared took his best shot. He let go of the rock with one hand, and jammed that hand into space and took a grab. That grab seized Preston’s wrist. Gently he placed Preston back onto the rocks and the climb continued. Parents were never told and that was probably for the best. Preston continues to climb but always remembers his closest call for caution.

Dessert was dark chocolate and lobotomy bock. Then to mattress and pillow. My last thought was probably a first for my life. What would it have been like to have had a brother?

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

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Day 59 – Man parts at risk & escape from horror lake

June 30, 2013
17 miles today
Mile 1018

Slow to attempt the dreaded exit but the demands of my constitution withdrew choice from the process. My wait caused a rush. Because it was a double, my exposure time was also doubled. They found me quickly. I looked down at the horror. Both testicles were crawling with feeding mosquitoes. Why scream? Slapping would be suicidal. I pushed for all I was worth. Both hands red with mosquito blood from my self imposed spanking. I began to panic and considered a mid-constitution retreat to my tent. Finally the sponge passed. My business done, I fled to my tent to nurse the damage.

A new kind of flowers

A new kind of flowers


Equally slow getting out of camp. The oatmeal from the hiker box was non instant. Thus I had to restart the fire and boil water while the incessant buzz drilled a hole in my head. With no flavoring I masticated the mud like oatmeal mule style. By departure everyone was long gone and I walked alone, except for my groupies trying to lay eggs in my ears. The goal was Sonora pass and a hitch into Bridgeport for resupply.
Looking down at breeding lake

Looking down at breeding lake


I kept moving. What choice was there? And then the blessing of geography. The trail began to climb, and climb some more. The pines were left behind, as well as the water. Deprived of breeding pools the mosquitoes too were soon in the rearview. The ground turned Arid, barren and volcanic. I was thrilled. Eventually the path topped out at just under 11,000 feet and stayed there. All was stunning with snowcapped peaks as far as the eye could digest. I was skipping with joy. Back to crossing snowfields and looking down on all.
Path to freedom away from my oppressors left behind in the Pine Forest below

Path to freedom away from my oppressors left behind in the Pine Forest below

Switchback

Switchback


Started sputtering and bonking so I sat down to a buffet lunch that involved eating everything of edible weight still in the pack. Then a sprint to the pass for the hitch in. The first ride was quick. Pete, a retired fireman and Vietnam vet, was up from the valley to escape the heat and capture fish. He gave us a ride to the 395 juncture for Bridgeport. Along the way he pointed out the Marine Mountain warfare training center, where the Leathernecks practice for North Korea.
Cool pool near lunch spot

Cool pool near lunch spot

Cars sped by as we broiled. Then a bomb went off in Slack and he started jumping up and down screaming a name. A truck locked up its brakes and slid off the road. A new style of hitchhiking I thought but whatever it takes. Turns out the name was Preston, which happened to be the name of the driver, which happened to be Slacks great slack lining buddy. We rode into Bridgeport listening to the excited catch up. The world just keeps shrinking.

Preston

Preston


Showered, and the tub ran black with filth and mosquito corpses. Laundry, and I suspect that water did the same. Had a long chat in the laundry mat with a gentleman from Cameroon. About what I expected in Bridgeport. He explained the government of Cameroon and it was the first African set up that has ever made sense to me. Twelve tribes in Cameroon, each send two representatives to a council of twenty-four that runs the country. A benevolent dictator oversees all, but has no real power other than to replace one rep with another from the same tribe. A model of balance perhaps?

Preston ferried us to Mexican for a feed. There the conversation focused on his work with the Sierra Fox. An animal that only lives above 9000 feet and of which there are only seven left in the world. They have been around North America since the Ice Age. Preston spends the winters setting up camera traps for his PhD work at UC Davis. Despite spending months in the field he has never seen one live. Their problem is global warming. He explained the pros and cons of captive breeding and concluded that it wouldn’t be worth the expense. Dinner was wrapped up by a toast to Orbit for passing her 2011 high watermark. From now on out all will be fresh to her eyes.

Darkness found us soaking in natural hot springs set next to a river with not a care. That would soon change for one of us, but for now all was buzz free bliss.

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

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