Loose stool no more! The old bowels are coming back online after their battle with the forces of Admiral Fish Taco. I didn't think I was even going to make it to a good spot, figured I might just end up having to bury some Joe Boxers in the woods somewhere.
Piles=Energyless hiking.
Logs=Climbing mountains like a lemur.
Today, I climbed with the strength of ten lemurs plus two.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Welcome to Orefreakingon!
Welcome to Orefreakingon!
Goodbye California, hello Oregon. Thank god that we are out of that damn state. I loved California, was one of the best places I've ever been in my life and if it weren't for the fact that I hold New Jersey in the highest regard above any other place on earth, I'd probably say that California's the best state in the country.
But hiking 1700 miles of a 2650 mile trail and spending over three months in the same state can get more than a little tiresome and make you feel like you're not getting anywhere.
But now we've got Oregon, home of the big trees and Steve Prefonaine. Day 1 in the new state was great. We seem to be getting past the forest fire smoke and had our first real views in three weeks. Just yesterday there were times when we had less than a mile visibility so to be able to see almost to the horizon and walk in clear air is a sweet deal.
Weather was cool, sun was beaming but not overwhelming and a mile before camp somebody left two coolers for PCT hikers filled with soda and beer. Cherry Pepsi and a Budweiser, please!
Today was a good day.
California, kiss these cheeks.
Goodbye California, hello Oregon. Thank god that we are out of that damn state. I loved California, was one of the best places I've ever been in my life and if it weren't for the fact that I hold New Jersey in the highest regard above any other place on earth, I'd probably say that California's the best state in the country.
But hiking 1700 miles of a 2650 mile trail and spending over three months in the same state can get more than a little tiresome and make you feel like you're not getting anywhere.
But now we've got Oregon, home of the big trees and Steve Prefonaine. Day 1 in the new state was great. We seem to be getting past the forest fire smoke and had our first real views in three weeks. Just yesterday there were times when we had less than a mile visibility so to be able to see almost to the horizon and walk in clear air is a sweet deal.
Weather was cool, sun was beaming but not overwhelming and a mile before camp somebody left two coolers for PCT hikers filled with soda and beer. Cherry Pepsi and a Budweiser, please!
Today was a good day.
California, kiss these cheeks.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Apologies
Sorry for the long delay between posts. It's not that I haven't had anything to write. Just the opposite. I fell behind sometime around when we left Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite and have been struggling to catch up ever since.
Some of the longer pieces I've been writing in my journal and will type them up later, but for now I put down a bunch of the ones that I could do pretty quickly.
Tomorrow I should be able to get down a couple more and then hopefully the longer ones will be finished by the time I get to the town stop at mile 1506 (I'm at 1377 right now). After that I should be back to regular updates and whatnot.
As for being so far ahead, the crazy California wildfire season forced us to skip a 138 mile section of the trail, from Sierra City up to Chester. We could have hike a decent portion of that 138 miles, but it would have involved a lot of road walking that nobody wanted to do.
So our plans are for right now to keep on keeping on to Canada and then if the currently closed section is open when we finish, to head back down and complete the unfinished section in September.
That's about it trail-wise. Like I said, I've got a bunch of stories to write up, so keep looking for updates as they'll start picking up again at each town stop.
Goodnight minions.
Some of the longer pieces I've been writing in my journal and will type them up later, but for now I put down a bunch of the ones that I could do pretty quickly.
Tomorrow I should be able to get down a couple more and then hopefully the longer ones will be finished by the time I get to the town stop at mile 1506 (I'm at 1377 right now). After that I should be back to regular updates and whatnot.
As for being so far ahead, the crazy California wildfire season forced us to skip a 138 mile section of the trail, from Sierra City up to Chester. We could have hike a decent portion of that 138 miles, but it would have involved a lot of road walking that nobody wanted to do.
So our plans are for right now to keep on keeping on to Canada and then if the currently closed section is open when we finish, to head back down and complete the unfinished section in September.
That's about it trail-wise. Like I said, I've got a bunch of stories to write up, so keep looking for updates as they'll start picking up again at each town stop.
Goodnight minions.
An Interesting Bowel Movement #3
Have you ever battled a swarm of mosquitos with an orange bandana while taking a dump in a hole and then one particularly angry swing causes the weight on the hand that's propping you up to shift, causing your left cheek to dip into the mound of filth below? Neither have I. Until June 24, 2008.
Let me just say that this was a top 10 most enjoyable moment of my life. My colon was a rumblin' and the skeeters must have heard it because as soon as my pants came down, it was like handing out free tickets to an all you can eat buffet.
Let me just say that this was a top 10 most enjoyable moment of my life. My colon was a rumblin' and the skeeters must have heard it because as soon as my pants came down, it was like handing out free tickets to an all you can eat buffet.
An Interesting Bowel Movement #2
Have you ever had a deer run by you and then disappear into the woods, making you think that the rock slide tumbling into the canyon ahead of you was just the deer crashing through the brush while taking a dump in a hole below Half Dome in Yosemite National Park? Neither have I. Until June 23rd, 2008.
The $60 Bolivian Hand
This one was told to me by a guy named (Super or Visor) when we were camping at Joshua Tree Spring North of Walker Pass:
Super went down to Bolivia on a teaching mission to a school for kids living in a poor, remote area of the country. Basically what happens in the rural areas is farmers grow acres and acres of wheat and corn, eat enough to keep them alive and sell the rest for nothing close enough to a living wage. The educational system there is non-existent, so the kids learn nothing and end up stuck in a horrible cycle. The school's curriculum is designed to teach them other types of life skills that will help them earn a living in the cities (where the money is) and hopefully allow them to return to their rural villages, ply their trade there and improve the quality of life for the people living there. About as noble of a goal as you can have I think.
Unfortunately things didn't always work out like that and when Super's girlfriend and now wife came down to visit him, the two of them, along with all of the children, ended up doing road construction the entire time.
Despite being one of the most mineral-rich countries in the world, Bolivia is prevented from exploiting that wealth because it is landlocked. No way to ship the stuff out other than driving it to ports in other countries. Other countries of course take advantage of this situation with things like taxes and tariffs thus preventing Bolivia from expoliting their natural resources. Also don't forget that Bolivia is a South American country, meaning that it is required by law to have a corrupt government. So in other words, all future generations of Bolivians are doomed to lives of squalor. In still other words, they're fucked.
This is why an American teacher, along with his future wife and class of students wasted days of time filling giant pot holes with dirt that upon the first drops of rain were immediately washed out and thus the road returned to its perpetually shitty state. A good use of everyone's time.
After hearing of Bolivian road construction and repair policies, it's no surprise then to hear that the Bolivian justice system varies pretty significantly from town to town. Super was warned about this almost as soon as he got down there. The people running the school told him that if there were any incidents involving someone from one of the nearby towns, to get the hell out of there because the locals just might kill you. Like beat and stomp you until your skull cracks open. Have teams of Bolivian horses trample you until you're ear turns into your asshole. Pelt you with rocks until your bones are shattered into thoudsands of pieces. Tickle your feet until the sound of your laughter reaches the ears of angels in heaven and they flyy down to escort you to the golden gates in a chariot made of clouds and silver. You get the picture.
Naturally, Super gets into a motorcycle accident in town with a guy and nearly cuts his hand off. "Hanging by some skin" was how he described it. Super follows orders and takes off, heads back to the school and lets his bosses know the situation. They all decide to go down together and talk with the man and his family, see how they can rectify the situation.
They walk into the house and the guy is laying on the couch, his hand in a beehive of gauze, basically like putting a band aid on a severed artery.
They ask him if he went to the hospital to get the hand looked at, but unbelievably (actually quite believably when you remember that they're in Bolivia) that was what the doctor ordered. Basically, his hand was lost. The only unresolved matter was compensation. What else can you do at that point but throw some money at the problem?
The family demanded 500 bolivianos (Bolician dollars).
"Excuse me?"
"500 bolivianos."
The grand total of 500 bolivianos converts to...50 American dollars. Well then. Super ponied up 60 bucks and they called it a day.
The whole deal was agreeable to both parties. Super got off paying pocket change and El Càpitan Hook was in the black in more ways than one.
He rented out his taxi to someone in town and was making a profit while sitting at home watching telanovelas.
Any naysayers about the success of the school only have to read this story to see how just how profoundly the teachers are affecting the lives of the Bolivian people.
The only person complaining was the guy's wife. He just doesn't lend a...hand...around the house like he used to.
Super went down to Bolivia on a teaching mission to a school for kids living in a poor, remote area of the country. Basically what happens in the rural areas is farmers grow acres and acres of wheat and corn, eat enough to keep them alive and sell the rest for nothing close enough to a living wage. The educational system there is non-existent, so the kids learn nothing and end up stuck in a horrible cycle. The school's curriculum is designed to teach them other types of life skills that will help them earn a living in the cities (where the money is) and hopefully allow them to return to their rural villages, ply their trade there and improve the quality of life for the people living there. About as noble of a goal as you can have I think.
Unfortunately things didn't always work out like that and when Super's girlfriend and now wife came down to visit him, the two of them, along with all of the children, ended up doing road construction the entire time.
Despite being one of the most mineral-rich countries in the world, Bolivia is prevented from exploiting that wealth because it is landlocked. No way to ship the stuff out other than driving it to ports in other countries. Other countries of course take advantage of this situation with things like taxes and tariffs thus preventing Bolivia from expoliting their natural resources. Also don't forget that Bolivia is a South American country, meaning that it is required by law to have a corrupt government. So in other words, all future generations of Bolivians are doomed to lives of squalor. In still other words, they're fucked.
This is why an American teacher, along with his future wife and class of students wasted days of time filling giant pot holes with dirt that upon the first drops of rain were immediately washed out and thus the road returned to its perpetually shitty state. A good use of everyone's time.
After hearing of Bolivian road construction and repair policies, it's no surprise then to hear that the Bolivian justice system varies pretty significantly from town to town. Super was warned about this almost as soon as he got down there. The people running the school told him that if there were any incidents involving someone from one of the nearby towns, to get the hell out of there because the locals just might kill you. Like beat and stomp you until your skull cracks open. Have teams of Bolivian horses trample you until you're ear turns into your asshole. Pelt you with rocks until your bones are shattered into thoudsands of pieces. Tickle your feet until the sound of your laughter reaches the ears of angels in heaven and they flyy down to escort you to the golden gates in a chariot made of clouds and silver. You get the picture.
Naturally, Super gets into a motorcycle accident in town with a guy and nearly cuts his hand off. "Hanging by some skin" was how he described it. Super follows orders and takes off, heads back to the school and lets his bosses know the situation. They all decide to go down together and talk with the man and his family, see how they can rectify the situation.
They walk into the house and the guy is laying on the couch, his hand in a beehive of gauze, basically like putting a band aid on a severed artery.
They ask him if he went to the hospital to get the hand looked at, but unbelievably (actually quite believably when you remember that they're in Bolivia) that was what the doctor ordered. Basically, his hand was lost. The only unresolved matter was compensation. What else can you do at that point but throw some money at the problem?
The family demanded 500 bolivianos (Bolician dollars).
"Excuse me?"
"500 bolivianos."
The grand total of 500 bolivianos converts to...50 American dollars. Well then. Super ponied up 60 bucks and they called it a day.
The whole deal was agreeable to both parties. Super got off paying pocket change and El Càpitan Hook was in the black in more ways than one.
He rented out his taxi to someone in town and was making a profit while sitting at home watching telanovelas.
Any naysayers about the success of the school only have to read this story to see how just how profoundly the teachers are affecting the lives of the Bolivian people.
The only person complaining was the guy's wife. He just doesn't lend a...hand...around the house like he used to.
Happy 4th of July Errybody!
Funny that if you went back and asked anyone living in 1776 what the significance of the 4th is, they'd probably call you a slag and/or a rake before gathering an angry mob to tar and feather you.
The real holiday should be on either July 2nd, the day that the colonies ratified the document; July 6, the day the Delcaration was officially made public in the Pennsylvania Evening Post; July 8, the first big day of celebration when the Declaration was read aloud before a crowd at the State House in Philadelphia; or August 2nd, the day the majority of delegates signed the Declaration. Nothing apparently happened on the 4th.
So said John Adams: The second of July 1776 will be the most memorable epocha in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the Day of Deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations from one end of the continent to the other from this time forward forever more.
I don't know about you, but I always celebrate the 4th with bells. I clang from dusk til dawn. I give Salvation Army Santas a run for their money.
Anyway, John didn't get his way and it's a damn shame. I'll bet it was those meddling Scotsmen James Wilson and John Witherspoon. Probably Caesar Rodney had something to do with it too. Those Delawarians are rascally.
In the end, I say we all blame Ben Franklin. He was fat, he had gout and he slept all the time while all the heavy shit was going down. Damn you Poor Richard to Hades!
The real holiday should be on either July 2nd, the day that the colonies ratified the document; July 6, the day the Delcaration was officially made public in the Pennsylvania Evening Post; July 8, the first big day of celebration when the Declaration was read aloud before a crowd at the State House in Philadelphia; or August 2nd, the day the majority of delegates signed the Declaration. Nothing apparently happened on the 4th.
So said John Adams: The second of July 1776 will be the most memorable epocha in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the Day of Deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations from one end of the continent to the other from this time forward forever more.
I don't know about you, but I always celebrate the 4th with bells. I clang from dusk til dawn. I give Salvation Army Santas a run for their money.
Anyway, John didn't get his way and it's a damn shame. I'll bet it was those meddling Scotsmen James Wilson and John Witherspoon. Probably Caesar Rodney had something to do with it too. Those Delawarians are rascally.
In the end, I say we all blame Ben Franklin. He was fat, he had gout and he slept all the time while all the heavy shit was going down. Damn you Poor Richard to Hades!
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