My Journey to Freedom and Ultralight Backpacking Read Online Free Page B

hikers to take more.  One register, 11 miles into the Hat Creek Rim walk, had this observation, “No matter what you think about pickles, they are the only thing you can do with cucumbers.” Another memorable statement, which has become a personal motto, said, “In the end, no one wins, and you find the race was only with yourself.”
      Rainmaker had a cut-down milk jug hanging from the back of his pack, having scavenged the milk jug from a trash receptacle in South Lake Tahoe. He used it to sponge bathe at night, weather and water supply permitting. I stubbornly adopted my own method of pouring liquid soap onto my camp towel, applying a couple tablespoons of water and dry cleaning myself. Both methods required very little water.
      Our gear and clothes were forest green, brown, gray and black. Those colors are nearly undetectable, especially in shady areas. A study by researchers has shown that bright colors attract bears. They also infringe on the perceived solitude of others, and hinder stealth camping. The term “stealth camping” evokes all sorts of images. It simply means finding an unused spot, and being as close to invisible as possible. It has virtually no impact, visually, audibly, or physically. Stealth camping doesn’t necessarily mean illegal camping.  Sometimes it is done in the interest of safety, for instance if a person must camp near a road. Other times, it is to insure some privacy, or to get away from an obnoxious person. 
      As we approached northern California, there was a very strong cat urine odor, which reminded me of the lion’s house at the zoo. We saw fresh Mountain Lion tracks, large prints and long strides. Several bears had come in close contact with us, including a mother and cub, a camp robber, and a night roamer. Bear and cat sign do not seem to cross one another’s territories. This is also cattle country, and bovine odor and sign is very common, and not welcome.
      That summer I wrote:
      You know you’ve been on trail too long when things start eating their way out of your food bags instead of into them. Or when you classify plants according to how well they work as toilet paper. Or when you feel safer walking unarmed through lion country, than walking unarmed through small town (pop. 228) America. Or when stealth camping means hiding from people instead of bears. Or when you hear a car and can’t identify its sound.
      Important sources of information for the trail ahead are the various tracks and “sign”, otherwise known as feces. From the first day we were hiking, I memorized Rainmaker’s shoe prints (an enormous size 13, figure 8 with herringbone tread). Another hiker, who was just ahead of us, had a waffle pattern, “Well, it looks like Waffle Foot has taken this route. He must be deciphering this mess the same way we are.” Sometimes close to the road, there’d be several interesting, well-traveled trails, and at the trail intersection all kinds of footprints, going around in circles probably saying like us, “Where in the hell is the PCT?” The Pacific Crest Trail is seldom labeled in the Sierra. Some sure signs you’re on the PCT are: thru-hikers tread (memorized from past encounters), water bars, rock ducks, bike tracks (illegal), and plenty of horseshit. We noted bear sign, big cat sign, dog sign, dog-just-drank-sign, and Llama-dragging-its-traces sign. It is possible to tell which direction they’re headed, what they’ve just eaten, and how big they are. This information can tell you if you’re likely to meet them, how hungry they might be, and how likely you are to be eaten.
       First priority upon reaching our nightly campsite was to clear a suitable spot for the Lakota tent. Rainmaker at the head end with both his hiking poles, I at the foot end with both of my hiking poles, would jointly set up our home for the night. It required both sets of hiking poles for the frame.   Then, after the tent was done, we would go about our nightly