(22 miles) Moved on through drizzle/light rain driven by a strong wind. Pleased with my Patagonia jacket/Go Lite pants rain protection team. The rain beaded up like a new wax job as I sliced through the soaked brush for whatever reason. I started thinking about appearances. The idea for “Reflections” came to me. I sorted it out over the course of a mile, then found the right rock to hunker down behind and write it. You can find it in the “Other Stories” section.



My gut revolt intensified. Started memorizing hills by the amount of times I had to stop and dig a cat hole. The record was a three hole hill. The trail followed the mid-line of a mountain range for miles, then suddenly dropped to desert valley floor. It then cut across the valley floor before climbing up the next range. Because of rain the desert was in full bloom. Even saw the angel trumpet flower which used to kill all the hippies.

Hiked on and off all day with Ethan, a free climber from Washington; Red Beard, on his second PCT attempt; and Michael, a med school student from Ohio. Ethan gave me my trail name which is Blaster. For obvious reasons, of course, it has stuck.



Just before the second climb, the path passes under a road bridge. There, an outstanding human being has carried down hundreds of gallons of water, a trash can and some food supplies so that hikers can resupply. What kindness.

I holed up there to take care of business. This involved drying my gear, restocking, repairing, interneting, eating, resting and digging cat holes. My biggest problem is the broken pole without which my tarp doesn’t function. I found a very old nail, pounded off the head with a rock and jammed it into both broken sections of a hollow tube. Then duct taped it. As the rain intensified, so did my confidence for a dry night.

At the bridge crossroads, many hikers hitch in to Julian for a famous apple pie. My gut precluded that, but Michael went.

After two hours of troll life, I began the climb up the next range. I stopped eating and drinking to try and flush the system. I put on the music. All to no avail. I made eight miles before I was done in. A perfect camping spot drowned the last of my will. Set up my tarp. My repaired pole held for 20 minutes of wind before failing. Was getting down, when lo and behold, Michael appears in biblical fashion carrying a pie with my name on it. I ate it for dinner and woke up the next morning cured of my gut travails.

Steve Halteman

On the Pacific Crest Trail

Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde

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