Author: gadget

That night at Benson Lake i thought i had bad mosquitoes. The trails before and after it i had the same thought. The trail after Wilma Lake taught me otherwise.

The air was thick with insect. Any exposed flesh that remained stationary for even one moment had multiple bugs probing for blood. Any meat in motion would come under assault in mere seconds. With a cloth in one hand and a handkerchief in the other i whirled, putting up a swirling fabric shield that was mostly functional at keeping them at bay.

It was not enough. The cunning bugs found cracks in my defenses and i am covered in their bites. They dove in through the fabric on my shoulders. A bold one tried to bite my eyelid. Some of the more frisky ones found their way up my skirt.

Every couple of steps i had to land a targeted strike on one that found purchase. I stopped wiping away the bodies. Were they trophies? Signs of warning in an attempt to scare them away? Maybe i was hoping to cover my skin with their essence and pass through unnoticed.

I started to question my place on the food chain. Can one die from too many mosquito bites? I felt powerless, like i was trying to fight the wind. The relentless insect gale buzzed on endlessly.

I have three scabs on the front of my right leg. One on the side. One on my left knee. Any other blemish was immediately vilified and struck down. Was it bug or was it just mud? They both squish on contact. The strikes flew freely.

When it came time to stop i threw up my tent and dove inside. Nine of them made it inside with me. The first eight went down easy. The ninth i struggled to defeat. After about a minute of the hunt i cornered it and smeared it along the mesh exterior of my tent. I left the body hanging where i struck it down.

My tent was overrun on the outside. I stopped counting at 75.

The next morning i dove into battle once more, mere miles away from the Yosemite border. As i left that godforsaken land i contemplated how every bite they successfully landed meant the birth of a multitude of bugs in the future.

Thankfully the trail got real cool real quick, way cooler than Yosemite was. I made it to Bridgeport this morning, officially out of scary bear country. I would send home my bear can here but my backpack is falling apart so i’m gonna play the field a bit in Tahoe. My current pack weighs almost 5 pounds so it’s easy weight to drop, but I wouldn’t be surprised if i got the same backpack but one size bigger on the torso. yay gear talk!

this past gadget, he doesn’t know how poor a backpack can treat him. the red menace was also not sized right, but at least it regularly treated the body okay.

love the name of this one. content too, good show past me.

i hiked with the starship troopers book near the end of my AT but i didn’t read it.

i didn’t mention how i had to pee in the middle of the night. the assault was still active. it was not a peaceful experience.

pee-ceful

The Hostel California is a rad place. My first night there was spent watching a 2.5 hour long Catan game that gradually got more vitriolic. Sleep eluded me because of course someone snored like they were dying the whole night. I ‘woke up’ at around 530 and listened to a rip of the live stream of Kanye and Cudi’s album which was also rad.

The next night i was told that there would be an open mic night at a coffee shop and everyone got all on me case saying i had to play it. When i went to scope out the place i found out that it was bi-weekly and it was an off week. So instead i went to a brewery and watched a bluegrass band play a show. There was an older man who owned the dance floor. I forget his name, i referred to him as Overalls, i’ll let you guess why. He was a thiccer guy, very gray, and his dance moves were on point. During one song he started dancing with a younger girl and it was entrancing. I talked to her afterwards and got the story. He’s a regular at this brewery, at most of the shows he’s busting a serious move. Normally he has a dance partner, and older woman from South Africa, and together they run the joint. That night she wasn’t there, so the girl i was talking to had to step up to the plate and dance with this legend. She was still visibly nervous about this dance she just did. As i was leaving i shook Overalls’ hand and told him i loved him.

The next day immediately started with cheap beer so i nearly double zeroed. At around 4 i started trying to hitch out of town. Two hours later i was picked up by a thru hiker who had a bunch of plants all over her car because the earth told her she needed em. When i got to the trailhead the pass was blustery and my pack was heavy and the sun was setting so i basically just crashed.

I did Kearsarge and Glen passes very very slowly the next day. On my way down Glen i slipped and fell and bashed the top of the Doctor and now i’m extra nervous about his well being. I keep noticing more cracks and woes with him. Perhaps thousands of miles of hardships aren’t the best for the longevity of a toys ‘r us guitar.

The Sierras are mosquito territory. At any point if you stop hiking the gang attacks. My cowboy camping days are mostly over at this point and that’s kind of sad. But sitting in my tent and seeing 30 mosquitoes all frustrated mere inches from my tasty blood feels great.

I had camped kind of far from the next pass, Pinchot, but i dug in and made it over that day. I still felt like trash, i was struggling to do one mile an hour on my way up it. I hit the top at around 5 so postholing was a certainty.

Bear threats and snow covered passes aren’t very scary to me out here. River fords are. That night i camped right next to our first juicy one, Kings River South Fork. I got water from it that night and boyo that water was deep and fast, it coulda killed someone without a second thought. The next morning it calmed to about knee height and I froze my toes off fording it.

Thankfully my mojo came back and i bumped Skrill and demolished Mather Pass. On top i got terrible news that Moneymaker had to get airlifted out the day before. There wasn’t enough room for his pack in the chopper so his gear was split up between everyone present to get hiked up to a nearby resort, VVR. I hope he gets back on trail, he did the AT the same year as me so i already had kinship with him, and that was before we sang songs together at the Strider trail magic.

I coasted downhill the rest of the day and got as close as i could to Muir Pass. It wasn’t close enough. I reached the snowy section at around 11 and immediately lost the trail. I ended up finding my own trail for quite a while, switchbacking up snowy slopes and eyeballing logical routes before i saw the pass in the distance. I hit the top of the pass at around 1 and started the slow trudge down the far side. The postholes were pre-made but i was still dunking my feet into ice cold melted snow in the bottom of them. After an hour of that i took a break on a boulder in the middle of the ocean to let my feet regain feeling and also have a little ‘this is insane what am i even doing’ moment. I hadn’t seen another person all day, and there i was on a boulder in a sea of pure white eating a Kit Kat and a tortilla somewhere in the mountains.

Thankfully i saw people after that, but unfortunately i rolled up after they had passed around and finished all their whiskey. I stumbled downhill to get close to the next intimidating river crossing, Evolution Creek. That night i stayed up until around 1am reading a Jack Reacher book. It was alright, but Jack is a bit of a Mary Sue. His supporting cast was way more interesting than him.

I got moving at around 8, very grateful for the packet of instant coffee i was given back in Bishop i think from Lullaby? Evolution was mid thigh deep and not too fast. The worst part were the mosquitoes who took advantage of my struggle to swarm and bite my face.

The trail hugged the San Joaquin River for a few miles before climbing up towards Selden Pass. It was mostly unremarkable, just more glorious panoramas flanked by hordes of mosquitoes. I fell asleep at about 5pm that day, crashing hard from my night of reading. But not before i shared a moment with a neighborhood marmot.

I had a surprise river ford the next day, Bear Creek. That one came up to almost my waist and was angrier than Evolution. Not too sure why they’re both called creeks though, i thought creeks were small and babbling things.

I took a 7 mile trail down to Vermillion Valley Ranch that afternoon. At one point i sloshed through a few hundred yards of calf deep marshy water within mosquito stomping grounds that was miserable. VVR is nice though. I got to pay to use a very slow Windows XP brick to check the internet and see that the Ice Climbers are coming back to Smash and that Nas dropped an album produced by Kanye oh man we eatin so good.

I also ate good, i got a steak last night and i couldn’t stop smiling after i ate it. I stopped by now that i paid for all my food last night and this morning and also a tiny resupply that came out to about $70 oof that hurts to think about.

There was also a campfire last night that i got bullied into playing guitar for but i didn’t sit in the circle cuz man that’s not my scene. Also i tried to teach two people how to play Euchre last night with a girl from Wisconsin and that was kind of a mess. but also over there they use 6s and 4s to keep score which come on guys two fives work just fine why do you do scoring that way.

whoo we got a meaty one this post. a lot of sierra action all compacted, and told with minimal grandeur. a disservice, a shame, but understandable. an attempt must follow.

climbing up and over those snowy passes was otherworldly, treacherous, not complicated but rather demanding. generally light on trail blazing, hundreds had already walked these mountains before me. decisions came from which set of footprints to follow, which would give more security and less risk. such a wild highlight. i suppose that’s why this one is more photo heavy, thousands of words are required to capture the magesty of traveling through this crazy mountain range. mornings of ascents, daytimes of overpowering brightness, evenings of descent, nights in the valleys surrounded by life.

hostel california in bishop. patient zero watched shindler’s list on vhs on an old crt tv in the common room. the gathering couches outside full of lounging hikers. fantastic spot. i got taco bell with some folks from down under, they were suitably unimpressed.

shoutouts to moneymaker, you’re still on my mind whenever i hear can’t stop by the red hot chili peppers.

muir pass. they sure picked out a doozy to name after this mountainphile.

lol that jack reacher book. what delightful shlock.

i can still fully picture that vvr steak i got. oh baby what a feast. the designated last bite so fatty and delicious.

two line breaks are needed for that steak. i don’t often splurge for steak, and splurge is the right word for ordering an expensive steak in the middle of nowhere.

there are a lot of things about this picture that concern me. first and foremost, a toilet that has gained sentience is troubling. is it okay with its lot in life? do toilet genetics give it an affinity to human excrement?

if we’re giving human features to a toilet then yeah it makes sense that the mouth is in the toilet bowl with the seat being the jaw. in this way the toilet always has its mouth cavity open to the world. is that comfortable? not to mention the tongue that it also apparently has. where does the tongue sit inside the bowl? it would also hurt like hell if someone sat on the seat with its tongue placed like it is. why does it have teeth? at no point in regular toilet use is it required to mush up things in between the seat and the bowl.

the hands tho. these sharp porcelain claws. any sort of arm is concealed in this picture. if the toilet is unsatisfied with your performance will it assert itself with these hands? if the toilet gets clogged can it brandish the plunger to reestablish flow? when the toilet is clogged can it breathe? can the toilet flush itself?

does the toilet have eyelids? porcelain doesn’t compress like eyelid skin does. i don’t know what’s more troubling, the toilet having eyelids made of some stretchy material, or the toilet having lidless eyes wreathed in porcelain, ever watchful and unresting.

the bolts holding it down are coming loose. does the toilet have locomotion? presumably no because of the piping that gives it functionality. if it does wrest itself free is it doomed to die? do toilets require water to live? what about excrement, does that give them sustenance?

does this toilet have the power of speech? can they converse with man? was this message made by a man who saw the toilet’s plight? by a toilet who happened to have the materials required to make it placed within its reach?

also i did hike through a lot of sierra nevada by now i guess i can write about that too

flushing handle eyebrow. the one troubling thing i did not touch on.