PCT mile:1676.8, 7-14-17, 21.8 miles
While us thru hikers packed up, the three Israeli men who were section hiking remained asleep. They had stayed up visiting with Lt Dan, who is also Israeli. He said that they had fed him giant portions of all sorts of good food and had buried beer ahead on the trail. This second part seemed very strange. There were no shortage of opportunities ahead to simply purchase beer in a store. Lt Dan had recognized that the men were countrymen of his as soon as they had exited their vehicle in Seiad the day before. In an uncharacteristic moment of shyness, he had asked Fluffy to do him a favor. “Hey man, ask them if they are Israeli.” He requested. Fluffy, a white American, correctly asserted that asking strangers their ethnicity was an uncomfortable way to say hello, and declined. Lt Dan switched to a much more reasonable plan B and just said hello to them in their shared language. We left camp in the morning with the new guys still sound asleep and walked a short distance to a trough spring where we were bombarded by mosquitoes.
I honestly can’t remember anything really interesting or noteworthy happening today. We caught a glimpse of Valley Girl’s balls again, but this has become so common place now it barely needs to be commented on. We hiked along some unremarkable terrain. Well there was one remarkable feature: it was all uphill. I know I say this every time, but this climb out of town really was the worst. Every climb out of town is worse than the one before it. On a ridge, we were able to get service and I called my Mom. When I asked if anything interesting was going on in her life she said “nothing interesting but something horrifying.” She had to have a tooth pulled, she explained. She will have to wait a few weeks before she gets her cadaver bone/artificial tooth implant. She is 75. I attempted to assuage her anxiety.”Hockey players lose teeth all the time Mom.” “Good for them. But I’m not a hockey player, I’m an old lady.” She retorted. “I was going to be buried with these teeth.” she bemoaned. I attempted to lighten the mood. “You can still get buried with them Mom” I reassured her. “Just put em in a box and will throw them on top of the casket. ” I hope this helped. But I feared it didn’t. Sometimes I’m not the best at lightening the mood.
We camped that evening in mosquitoe infested woods with a hiker named Chopper. She had to be airlifted out of deep creek in the desert due to severe dehydration brought on by norovirus.
We had a norovirus Christmas one year. Everyone but Norm and Patti got violently ill. Norm kept on cheerfully trying to serve us scalloped potatoes, the same dish we had all been throwing up the day before despite our loud protests and groans. One morning, when I was finally feeling good enough to sleep, I got up at 6 to pee. I tried to make as little noise as possible. Immediately after I opened the door , June Bug, Patti’s terrier, rushed into the bedroom and pissed on the floor and just as quickly darted out. Exhausted and angry with my luck, I had to make my way to the kitchen to acquire paper towels and rug cleaner. “Hey Mattman!” Norm said, looking up from his breakfast of scalloped potatoes. He had probably been up for two hours at this point. “What are you looking for?” I explained the situation and retreated to the bedroom to clean the piss. Just as I was about to go back to sleep, Patti opened the bedroom door with Junebug under her arm. “Bad dog!” She said, placing June bug near the piss spot “That’s bad!” “Patti please.” I pleaded. It was of no use. Patti was caught up in some sort of sudden training fervor. As far as I know this was the only time Junebug had been trained to do anything. The timing wasn’t great for me. All hope of sleeping evaporated. I can’t imagine trying to hike with norovirus.
It was only the next day that I realized thetrail name chopper was likely due to the helicopter ride she took out of deep creek.