Here we are at the trailhead in Belden...
I didn't care much for the name of this spring...
The Abbot. Like a camel, he rarely needs to drink water. But that didn't stop him from carrying two gallons of water the first day (which turned out to be unnecessary). He was a trooper!
At our first campsite in Myrtle Flat. Around seven miles with a two thousand foot elevation gain...
The Therapist in the foreground, cutting some salami. The Abbot in the background (putting on bug dope--more about this later)...
The Abbot with a bottle of 151 proof Rum...
We hit the trail early that morning. Joni was kind enough to drop us off. About a mile into the hike I heard a scream behind me: "Allan!". I'd run off with the car keys and Joni was stranded at the trail head. Add an extra mile for that!
We hit the trail early that morning. Joni was kind enough to drop us off. About a mile into the hike I heard a scream behind me: "Allan!". I'd run off with the car keys and Joni was stranded at the trail head. Add an extra mile for that!
The first day was a beautiful hike up Chips Canyon. Lots of water in this leg. We had planned on camping at a cabin on the trail, but sometime between the time my guidebook was written and the time of our hike, the cabin had burned down.
We were joined at the campsite by "Old School" (people take trail names on the PCT). Old School was completing his last leg of completing the PCT. He also had completed the Appalachian Trail and had many stories to tell and much advice to give.
We were "Cowboy Camping", meaning we didn't sleep with a tent. We unrolled our sleeping bags right under the stars. I wasn't much bothered by the mosquitoes; they are minor nuisances to me. I told my partners: "We don't have mosquitoes in California".
"Then what are these things biting me?" the Abbot asked.
"California miniature humming birds", I told him.
I slept well. The Abbot swatted at California miniature humming birds all night...
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