Solo PCT Hike Mexico-Oregon 1993 7of7
Day 147, Thu 8.26 am: Hill over Kangaroo Lake, about 23 miles yesterday. The tea kept me awake all night.  It also increased skin sensitivity so that the friction of my balaclava face mask and polypro shirt was irritating.  I could hear the faintest sounds such as a mouse tunneling under the ground and the ticking of my watch inside a moleskin pouch inside my backpack. 10 am: Discovered some pitcher plants near a spring.  These are carnivorous plants shaped with bulbous heads and a long funnel lined with short white hairs pointing downward to prevent insects from climbing out.  I slit one open and found a carpenter ant at the bottom.  By holding the membrane up against the sun I could also see minuscule white worms swimming around.  I am leaving the trail to go down to Callahan to buy a 1-qt pan. 1 pm: Resting in a beautiful, park-like grassy area near an abandoned road parallel to the paved highway to Callahan.   Here is a list of some of my favorite wilderness places in the world: Mt. Shasta; Mt. Whitney; Mt. Baden-Powell; Sierra Buttes Fire Lookout north of Sierra City; Glen Pass on PCT; Hunchback Pass north of Durango, Colorado; Flatiron Hills overlooking Boulder; Tibetan Buddhist Retreat near Red Feather, Wyoming; Diamond Mountain in NW Colorado; End of Jetty at Freeport, Texas; Ferry crossing Sea of Cortez; Marble Falls near Poona, India; Marble Mountain in NW California; Jemez Springs, New Mexico; Lookout Point north of Indian Gardens in Grand Canyon; Chirucawa Mountains SE of Tucson (saw Haley's comet there with Jose and Frank); New Clairvaux Monastery at Vina, California; Big Hole National Battlefield, Wyoming. pm: On a hillside near an abandoned shack, 4 miles north of Callahan, 4 miles south of Etna, about 20 miles today.  Callahan had minimal supplies even though it has two stores, one more than needed.  The town used to be bigger.  Try for a 1-quart pan in the county capital of Etna tomorrow instead.  An empty logging truck stopped beside me on the highway and the driver asked if I would like a ride, but I explained that I was walking every step from Mexico to Oregon.  A half hour later the same man pulled up in a pickup truck with his daughter and gave me a hamburger.  Along with the coffee I had in the bar at Callahan (I forgot I gave it up), this should probably me awake for awhile, unfortunately. Day 148, Fri 8.27 2 pm: On the road back up to Etna Summit from resupplying in Etna.  12 mile walk from Callahan to Etna along a county highway was a change of scenery from forest trails.  Country pastures full of hay and cattle stretch on both sides of the road.  I saw a boy mowing the yard of the main house of a ranch founded more than a hundred years ago. I met two teenage girls who were standing beside the road. When I asked if they were waiting for a ride one pointed at a tractor cutting hay in the field across the road and said, "Him."  This threesome passed me later and offered a ride in the back of their truck but I was sorry I could not accept. One woman in a van stopped across the road, rolled down her window and said, "How are you?".  I replied, "Fine. How are you?"  She didn't know what else to say, so drove off.  Hikers and city folk are rare here.  There were no Discover or Science magazines in the grocery store, not even Time or Newsweek.  Curious as to what else might be missing, I looked for condoms such as can be found in any supermarket in any large city, but there were none.  When I nonchalantly mentioned this to the lady behind the register at the pharmacy, where I had gone to get Odor Eaters foot power (they were out of that too), she made a face, went into the back and brought out a white plastic bag and was going to sell me some without even causing me the embarrassment of looking at them, but I declined.  A local resident of Etna struck up a conversation on the street and told me about some short trips he had made on the PCT, then gave me an Oakland A's baseball cap, green with yellow bib, which I was glad to receive.  I felt impatient to get out of town and back up into the mountains.  Passed a Greek Orthodox monastery named after Gregory Palamas right on the outskirts of Etna, a small complex secure behind high white walls.  I am not really keen on returning to civilization but hiking is getting tiresome too.  Maybe I need a vacation! pm: Almost to the summit on an old logging road about 100 feet above the highway.  The pleasures of a campfire -- what have I been missing! Cooking Rice-A-Roni in new 1-qt saucepan with a dollop of ghee.  The fire is right beside my tarp in a hole 8 inches wide x 4 inches deep.  No rocks, no wind.  The saucepan rests on the edge of the hole and on a thick short branch.  Simmering about 20 minutes, no hurry, plenty of wood, no bugs, far from human interruptions.  The comfort of legs stretched out under a sleeping bag while an arm lazily stirs the rice.  The day's work is done.  All I have to do is eat and sleep. Day 149, Sat 8.28 am: Musical cows guided me to a spring.  An article in the local Etna newspaper defended livestock grazing on public lands, in opposition to Secretary of the Interior Stuart Udall's proposal to raise the grazing fee from $1.80 to $4.00 per AUM (Animal Unit Monthly = 1 cow + calf, or 5 sheep, not the sacred OM word).  The article said the main complaint was cow manure. It said nothing about water pollution or noise (cow bells) pollution. 11 am: Marble Mountain Wilderness, three miles past trail register on a tree-shaded saddle.  Keith's name was missing.  I would like to take a layover day in a wilderness such as this but found nothing interesting to read in Etna. Do not have the patience to sit and do nothing all day unless sick or very tired. The end of this hike is rushing towards me much too fast.  I will put off starting a new project until I can ease over the transition gradually, first in Ashland, then see Paul at the Abbey, then consult at Stanford, then possibly visit Jeff, Donna, Jon, Ben, Dan and Kristyn in Atlanta.  Writing up these notes would be a mini project in itself.  Male grasshoppers launch themselves towards the afternoon sun and strum their legs to make a song above the rocks. Quiet females hop towards them where they land. I applaud their bravura performance. pm: Shelly Fork Trail.  Camping early after only 14 miles.  Don't feel much like pushing on.  Great views northeast -- probably looking at Oregon.  I should feel like Balboa seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time from a peak in Darien, but don't feel anything.  After 1700 miles it is all starting to look the same. Baseball cap smells like someone else even after washing it in a creek, so have stowed it in duffel bag until next laundromat. Day 150, Sun 8.29 am: Windy, rocky and damp camp on a sharp ridge.  Nearly full moon, no tree cover, mild stomach cramps, a restless night.  Watched a slow moving meteorite flame and disintegrate under the moon. A nimble, chubby chipmunk scolded me in the morning.  Winter is on the horizon -- I can see snow on the Trinity Alps.  Is summer ending already?  Heavy chunks of white marble scattered on the trail. 11 am: Wooded strip above Summit Lake.  Saw first view of Marble Mountain (6880). It is long and white like a loaf of bread.  Marble Mountain is a 600' thick stratum of marble out of more than 10,000 feet of sediments from the Triassic Period.  Most of the sediments were volcanic but coral reefs built up limestone which metamorphosed to marble. 4 pm: Little Marble Valley.  Took a side trip up the Marble Mountain rim trail, then angled across country almost to the summit (6880).  I could have reached the very top by scrambling up a conical formation but did not. I did not realize that I was actually at the true summit. The white bare bony ridge extending to the north appeared to be higher until I checked my topo map later.  I was interested in visiting this peak because it seems an idyllic spot for scattering of my remains after cremation. The thick layers of beautiful marble could supply a hundred thousand cemeteries. The marble is itself a cemetery for the ancient coral which created it.  Maybe I'll visit the true summit again one day weighing one ounce.  Back down on the fissured marble floor my pack seems heavy after climbing without it. Weather is clearing despite forecast of thunderstorms.  Wind stopped at midday. However, even in full sunlight and still air I seldom feel warm any more because of the season, latitude, altitude and loss of body fat. Day 151, Mon 8.30 am: Last night camped on flat forest floor littered with dead branches, in a grove of trees sheltered from moonlight and threatening rain.  Shortly after sunset I was visited by a young buck deer with baby antler sprouts. He was cautious about coming closer then ten feet but kept prowling around until I tossed him a few pieces of bread.  A few morsels accidentally dropped on the edge of my tarp.  After it got dark I could hear him advance and retreat, gradually edging closer, sniffing and sniffing, until he got them too. He came back at dawn for more. Still opposite the white face of Marble Mountain near a trail which ascends to the alternate summit.  I dreamed that Radoje and Radomir built a six-story research center but everything was crooked and piles of manuscripts could not be translated. I'm writing these breakfast notes near a lingering 30' snow patch.  How did the ice ages happen if earth gets the same amount of sunlight? 2 pm: Reached a road crossing Bear Creek.  Somehow I lost the trail and have dropped two-thousand feet into a western canyon off my map.  Met a counselor for a group of six emotionally disturbed youth spending several weeks in the wilderness.  This was their solo day when each would camp by himself along the trail somewhere.  I met one of them who broke his solitude to complain to the counselor that he had no pen to write his journal. 4 pm: Unwilling to correct my mistake by backtracking two thousand feet and several miles, have continued down canyon without a map.  Now I am at a junction of two roads.  The main road continues downhill towards the west. The other road contours northwards along the side of the mountain in the direction I want to go.  I'll take the higher mountain road going towards Seiad Valley. sunset:  Five miles north of the junction I have just come to a dead end. The logging road simply ends without even a turnaround.  The slopes of these Klamath mountains are so steep that there is nothing to do but turn around and trudge all the way back.  This is the second time my forward progress has been blocked because of inadequate maps.  Will rest a bit, then hike back to the junction under full moon.  At least I will find out what happens when two roads diverge, where both of them go, not only the one less traveled by. Day 152, Tue 8.31, Full Moon.  dawn: I walked in moonlight and moon shadow back to the junction, then followed the other road down to a junction with a two-lane dirt road paralleling a river.  Turned north and walked in the cool evening a few more miles to a bridge.  The river bed was sunken so far below the bank that I could not see the direction of water flow, but on the other side of the bridge I turned north on a one-lane road and walked a few more miles. Passed some horses in a pasture eating grass in moonlight and a sign which said "Caution: Bigfoot", no doubt some local humor.  Altogether probably walked about thirty miles yesterday but cannot prove it.  Finally stopped in an open space between oaks and pines on a strip between the road and the river. Ate some cereal.  Woke about 4  am with moonlight full in face.  Could not go back to sleep till before dawn, slept about one hour.  Leg muscles are stiff --this is really unusual.  Feet are OK for what they went through, thanks to New Balance sneakers. I have lost the timeless feel of this hike.  For the first few months the goal was so distant that it made no difference to walk a short day or a long day. By contrast now I am very time and distance conscious, eager to press on even when tired. Maybe I should set a distant unattainable goal, such as Canada or Denali in Alaska, and accept the probability of failure, to regain that mood of accepting each day as a gift to be appreciated for its own uniqueness, a day to be valued purely for itself.  I read a National Geographic story about a man who walked across the Brooks Range in Alaska.  He met an old timer with a paralyzed arm who in spite of his handicap would frequently utter "Thank you" in gratitude for another day of life. In that spirit I often turn to my camping spot before leaving and say "Thank you" with a little bow. 8 am: Road sign: 6 miles to Happy Camp.  After sun came up I stopped off the road in a pretty meadow surrounded by blackberry bushes near a lane signed "New 49's Gold Claims", and washed stickiness off hands and face with a bandana, soap and water.  Then enjoyed a breakfast of cereal with handfuls of fresh blackberries.  Further downstream washed feet, legs and arms at a landing where the clear river water swirls in eddies around polished granite stones. Much greenery everywhere but few insects.  I like Klamath better than the drier forests to the east.  Slopes are extremely steep, however, so there is no choice but to follow old trails wherever they may go.  The cold stream water was a tonic for sore feet.  Should take the time to bathe feet more often when near a stream but always wanting to move on. Day 153, Wed 9.1 am: On Highway 96 walking east along the north bank of the Klamath  River. At Happy Camp yesterday had a meal at a cafe, then rested a few hours under a tree and read the San Francisco Chronicle from front to back until the afternoon heat burned off.  Studied a map at the ranger station which showed a short cut up Portuguese creek to reach Seiad Valley (19 miles from here -- Bear Creek turned out to be a major detour). So have resupplied at Happy Camp because will not go to Seiad Valley after all.  Walking up Klamath River, seeing many new kinds of plants including blackberries everywhere.  These berries are red when unripe, then turn black as they sweeten [the opposite of coffee beans which turn from green to ripe red].  Called Larry Hill at Argonne and had a talk about future prospects there which seem more distant now than ever. 5 pm: A few miles up Portuguese Trail.  At the ruins of Fort Goff on the Klamath River there was nothing but a cemetery, a picnic table and a telephone -- past, present and future.  At this rocky outpost among oak trees cooked a macaroni and cheese supper over a wood fire.  The trail rises sharply from here. Day 154, Thu 9.2 am: Portuguese Trail was a real sweat.  My tank top was drenched before I gained the shoulder of this mountain top.  I thought the most strenuous trails were far to the south in the high sierras but this one was tough.  As I neared the top I was surprised to see fresh horse tracks.  Then I heard the sound of a cow bell ahead.  Curious, I picked my way across forest litter until suddenly I saw the smoke of a campfire.  Not wanting to intrude I started to move away, but a cowboy stood up beside the picketed mules and horses and invited me to join the party.  They were a party of two persons with two horses and two mules. The cowboy Bill Roberts was working for the National Forest Service clearing trails. His nephew Bob Keeney, on summer vacation from his second year at Cal Tech, was helping him.  Today they had been clearing the very same trail I was struggling to climb, lucky for me.  Bill invited me to share some ice tea and cookies and before I knew it we talked for two hours and it was too dark to go on.  This was the first time I could say that my hike started to be "fun"  (even the memorable Reno break was solitary after all).  We sat around a big campfire which Bob constantly replenished. The big horses and mules standing nearby, eating oats from feed bags, made me feel protected from bears. Bill described his experiences with horses and mules and outfitting camping trips.  I learned that mules have a horse for a mother and a donkey for a father, not the other way around, because it is easier for a larger female horse to give birth than a female donkey.  Both mules and horses have good memories for trails but mules are smarter.  We talked about common acquaintances among the hikers who had preceded me.  Bill had met some of them while working on local trails.  I learned why Keith's name was not in the Marble Mountain register.  Keith took a detour up the highway to make up some lost time and get an all-you-can-eat meal in a town. He was walking on the right shoulder of the road into Seiad Valley when a logging truck coming from the other direction did not leave enough space for an approaching camper pickup to go between.  The rear view mirror of the camper struck his left shoulder and knocked him to the ground. The driver of the camper stopped.  Keith said he was all right although his right elbow was bruised by the fall.  Keith was determined to continue. I hope he makes it all the way. Bill had also met Scott Williamson and told me stories that Scott had told him about Milt Kinney at Castle Craigs, so we talked about Milt Kinney for awhile, and how Milt had a trail named after him for all his service as a trail angel. One funny scene: Bob asked for more ice tea.  The pot was opposite him across the campfire.  Bill and I both picked it up at the same time.  "I've got it", said Bill. "--Sure?", said I.  "--Yeah"  "--I'm letting go now, OK?", I said. "--OK". Two grizzled veterans competing for the attention of  a tenderfoot. As the fire died down and our eyes got sleepy, Bill recited a poem he had composed about campfires and sunsets.  This reminded me of Robert Frost's poem which I duly recited: "Nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold.  Her early leaf's a flower, but only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf, so Eden sank to grief, so dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay."  We slept near the horses.  In the morning sitting around a rekindled campfire, Bob asked me for a remedy for blisters, so I applied a Spenco to his little toe and a moleskin on his heel. Bill accompanied me to the top of the ridge pointing out the improvements he had made in the trail. This was the first time I ever met a trail builder.  He wished me good luck and said I should savor the remaining few days to Ashland. pm: Alex Hole, about 18 miles.  Made a big fire in a preexisting fire ring for toasty warmth against the chilly night air.  Found some water seeping from willow springs after a dry afternoon.  Some cattle springs today were either too muddy or dried up.  This is a perfect campsite but for the first time in this hike I feel kind of lonesome all by myself, remembering the company last night.  Mt. Shasta looms to the south now. Day 155, Fri 9.3 am: Enjoyed cereal and hot tea for breakfast.  Back on the trail I passed a white pickup truck parked off a logging road, then two bow-and-arrow hunters in camouflage and black face paint.  Their presence signals a change of season. lunch: Observation peak, in Oregon.  The California-Oregon border was marked by a simple cairn of stones on a switchback trail.  At the instant I stepped across the line, thin clouds moved across the face of the sun, just as I expected from previous crossings into wet Oregon.  There is a feeling of change in the air.  I am seeing large patches of clear cut forest and heavy logging trucks. I have been very fortunate without a tent so far. California must be unique in the world to have so much snow in the winter yet enjoy such long sunny dry summers.  Tea for breakfast is too strong. 6 pm: Knoll north of Siskiyou Peak (6900'), about 24 miles since dawn.  A perfect spot for the last night on the trail.  Manzanita bushes block breeze while granite boulders create a sheltered niche on flat ground with splendid views in all directions, including majestic Mt. Shasta to the south.  Cool but not cold, the weather promises a clear night.  In spite of resolve to "be here now", mind full of plans about diet, shelter, future projects. Day 156, Sat 9.4  am: Bull Gap, twelve miles from Ashland.  Last night at 1:30  am, wakened by a brilliant moon and the incessant jangling of cow bells, got up and relocated camp at night, for only the second time in the hike. Too excited to sleep anyway.  Walking around Mt. Ashland I gazed at a stream of sparkling jewels moving up the Interstate 5 corridor below, but Mt. Shasta was cloaked in mist. My last steps on the official PCT were taken as I turned off onto Road 20 from Siskiyou Peak, shouting "Hamburger!" at the poor noisy cows.  They woke me up but I was not mad, in fact I felt happy, even joyful the end was near. Took a wrong turn at the ghostly ski lift but backtracked while chanting some mantras in the milky moonlight and found the correct road bearing north, one hundred feet below a hairpin turn on Road 20.  I laid down on my poncho near a log fallen across the jeep road near the junction with the road I will follow into Ashland today. 10:25 am: Started wearing wristwatch.  Finished last of potatoes and ghee. No food left except for one Noodle-Roni and tea supplies.  All downhill now. Epilogue My hike ended on Day 156 as I walked into Ashland and found a bed at the International Youth Hostel ($15) where I rested for three nights. It was difficult to sleep comfortably in a closed room. Then I took a Greyhound Bus down to Corning where Brother Paul came to meet my bus, but he did not see me get off. Fortunately he saw me walking along the road as he was returning to the monastery. I had a wonderful rest for several days and we renewed our long friendship. I bought a pair of long pants in nearby Chico, size 32" waist, and two new shirts and some briefs. I continued by bus down to San Francisco where I stayed overnight in a hostel before taking the train down to Stanford. Before consulting at the lab, I accepted an invitation from Andrew and his family to visit them in nearby Saratoga. Andrew gave me a souvenir of a hundred year old lead bullet which has such a patina of age that it looks like a ceramic work of art. I spent a couple of days in John Mulligan's lab, polishing my DOTS image analysis program for the Stanford Yeast Genome Project. I continued making finishing touches into the second evening after everyone had gone home, until I was satisfied with all of the changes. In order to catch an Amtrak bus leaving from San Jose very early the next morning, it was necessary to go down to San Jose by commuter train that evening. So I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulders, locked the lab door behind me and walked out of the building and across the Stanford campus to the Palo Alto station. After walking around downtown San Jose for awhile I found a sheltered spot between the guard rail of a freeway exit and some bushes. Above the bushes all the lights of the city shone brighter than moonlight. It seemed ironic to me that I could have been working as a computer consultant for $250 but on the very same night sleep outside by the road as a homeless man. Several days later, after a long Amtrak trip to Pomona (Janie and Joe were out of town but Leena had a key), Chicago, New Orleans and Atlanta, I took a Marta train and a taxi to my brother's house in Norcross,  Georgia. In the basement I found my ZEOS 386 and my books and other boxes shipped from Chicago last March when I quit my job at Argonne National Laboratory to do this hike. After finishing this trip journal I plan to return to Bodhi Manda Zen Center in the New Mexico mountains at Jemez Springs, to continue exploring new horizons, giving my computer to my nephews and niece. The regular daily schedule at Bodhi Manda, except for intensive sesshins when there is much more of zazen (sitting meditation), is as follows: 4:45 Rise 5:00 Zazen 6:45 Cleaning 7:00 Breakfast 8:00 Work 9:45 Tea break 11:15 End of work 11:30 Lunch 1:30 Work 3:15 Tea 5:00 End of work 5:15 Supper 7:00 Zazen 8:50 Closing I will check for General Delivery mail at the nearby Jemez Springs post office 87025 at least once a week. Your letters and loving support will be much appreciated. My thanks to all who made this trip possible and filled it with wonderful experiences. I am grateful for all of it and everyone I met.  Jonathan W. Jarvis, Norcross, Georgia, Wed 20 Oct 1993
Appendix: Equipment Used on the Expedition Final Packing List After 1700 miles, Ashland, Oregon, Sept 4, 1993 (key: * indicates gear used earlier in the hike but not at the end) Kelty Tioga External Frame Backpack Dark olive, a trusted companion for 13 years including Mt. Shasta hike 1980 and Mt. Whitney hike 1990.  Yellow Velcro strap fastens ice ax.  Attached to the same leather patch: a loop of red cord with black cord lock for drying wet socks. The scarred aluminum frame has stirrups for the shoulder harness straps to prevent twisting.  Brass zippers.  Two main compartments, 4 side pockets, one map pocket and room for an external duffel bag containing sleeping bag and clothes. A. Top Main Compartment  1. Black open mesh bag, 6x9, containing extra supplies and important papers: Bic razors, bottle of DEET mosquito repellent, tube of Freesole urethane shoe repair, two AA flashlight batteries, one 2-oz Nalgene bottle of Pretty Feet skin remover, waterproof aluminum box 3-1/2 x 5: billfold (drivers license, Visa card, postage stamps, NFS Multiuse Trail Permit, a recent photo, little red address book, cash), USA Passport for Jonathan Willis Jarvis, born in Los Angeles, California, Oct 11, 1942, issued in Los Angeles, 19 July 1993, expires 18 July 2003, DOE ANL Santa Fe name tag, Scudder Short Term Bond Fund check blanks, Social Security Card, University of Utah business cards (C Programmer, Genetic Maps), Photos, Traveler's Checks, Cash 2. 3.  4. 7x14 black food bag for bread  5. 5x6x11 green bag for condiments such as powdered milk, salt, pepper, Mexican ground chiles, Lipton iced tea  6. Yellow bag for cereal, sugar  7. 1-qt Lexan wide mouth bottle (3rd of 3) for extra water or ginger cookies.  8. Comet 1-qt Aluminum sauce pan with phenolic handle in olive soot bag.  9. *Moss 2-Man 3-Season Starlet Tent, with shock-corded tent poles in maroon sleeve. Tent is beige with maroon trim.  No-see-em mesh top is stressed in places, a result of washing tent in a laundromat. Some small rips are patched with squares of brown nylon. 10. Thermarest air mattress bound with two red Velcro straps.  When food compartment is full at the start of a long trip, tent and Thermarest ride above frame under adjustable top flap. Later in the trip, the tent packs inside compartment about level with top.  Without a tent there is room for more food or else the space is left empty. B. Bottom Main Compartment 1. 7x7 red bottle bag: Faberge Power Stick Deodorant (Musk), Salt tube 3/4 x 2 (refilled periodically from restaurants), 1-oz bottle of Tide detergent, 2-oz bottle of pills (1-A-Day vitamins, aspirin, pink Pepto Bismol), Bottle of vitamin C tablets, suntan lotion, small container of unscented Lubriderm skin lotion, Ben Gay for aching feet.  2. Turquoise 1/2-mesh utility bag with zipper: Soft yellow toothbrush, small tube of Crest toothpaste, dentotape, plastic spoon, metal whistle on red lanyard, green plastic coin purse, extra ballpoint pens (Uniball roller, six-slot 0.2 mm), Ace hard rubber comb, 1 Bic razor with orange cap, Revlon toenail/fingernail clippers, army surplus GI can opener, Swiss Army wristwatch in homemade moleskin pouch, Gerber folding pocketknife, Silva compass, Duracell Durabeam flashlight (2 AA, no blind spots).  3. REI 4x8 red medical kit: Spool of adhesive tape, moleskin for heels, Spinko second skin for toes, nylon thread, black thread, heavy white waxed thread, assorted needles, needle holder, 3x4 acrylic mirror, Mycitracin triple antibiotic ointment (bacitracin, polymixin, neomycin), Revlon blunt point scissors, Revlon sharp point tweezers, butane lighter for sterilizing needles, antiseptic towelette, 2 cold tablets, 2 decongestant tablets, single edge razor blade, safety pins, Contac cold tablets, 2 Imodium anti-diarrhea tablets, spare Thermarest patch, spare tent patches, Urebond urethane adhesive  4. REI thermal mug, forest green with white interior. Nested inside mug: an 8-oz wide mouth Nalgene jar for ghee or tea bags  5. 4-oz Lipton Tea bottle  6. 2-oz Crystal Light lemonade or grapefruit powder bottle  7. Black nylon wind shell jacket, Sierra Designs, teal trim, stuffed in lower main compartment for quick access.  8. Baby blue trash bag  9. Fresh garlic, cloves and limes. C. Left Upper Side Compartment 1-qt Lexan widemouth bottle, 1.25-oz Odor Eater foot powder in ziploc bag, iodine tablets in 1-oz bottle, 1 Uniball roller pen D. Right Upper Side Compartment 1-qt Lexan wide mouth bottle, white plastic eyeglass case for near-vision glasses, extra 1-qt ziploc bags (about 20) E. Left Lower Side Compartment Spare cords, Rubbermaid 1.3-pint container for breakfast cereal, unbreakable spoon, 1/2 green scrubber cloth F. Right Lower Side Compartment Rubbermaid 1.3-pt container for gorp (usually chocolate morsels mixed with chewy cinnamon candy), 1/2 green scrubber cloth, red bandana G. Map Compartment 1/3 PCT California guide, National Park map, California road map, orange plastic trowel, toilet paper, butane lighter to burn used paper, blue eyeglass case for far-distance glasses or else prescription sunglasses with red croakies H. Duffel Bag North Face down mummy bag, regular, right zipper, blue.  Extra pair of Nike running shorts, tank top (first half of trip was "I climbed Mt. Whitney"; last half was a black cotton Anazasi shirt), short sleeve cotton dress shirt (long sleeved would have been better), navy polypro long sleeved undershirt, Ultimax crew socks, yellow handkerchief gift of my sister Jane.  First half a desert hat with wide brim, last half a yellow and green A's baseball cap. Footware in chronological order: Vasque Sundowner boots, Raicle Montagne boots, Raicle Spirit boots, Nike nylon/leather high tops, Teva sandals, New Balance sneakers, size 8.5 4E (feet grew extra wide by end of hike).                                                 Solo Hike 93 page 7 of 7 Previous Page                           Home Page (jwleaf.org)                                   End of the Trail