Mile 454.5 is in a little town known as Agua Dulce. The main "strip" is a grocery store, a few restaurants, a bakery, and a liquor store. However, if you take a left right after the bakery and go a mile you arrive at Hiker Heaven, run by the Saufleys.

Every single hiker stops here for at least a night it seems. They will accept packages, provide free showers and laundry, there are cots for sleeping, a kitchen for cooking, daily trips to REI, and all manner of places to sit and relax by yourself or socialize with other hikers. Oh, and as this entry can attest there is internet access thanks to six computers. It really is heaven for people who have just hiked through a hundred miles of hot desert full of poodle dog bush, rattlesnakes, sweaty ascents, and knee busting descents.

I timed it so I arrived here this morning around 9:30 a.m. giving me ample time to shower, sit around and relax while my laundry was being done, and generally just be a lazy bum reading a book. Then I biked into Agua Dulce for lunch and an investigation of the shopping opportunities for food. Thanks to the Hiker Heaven's hiker box and a care package from Mrs. MJ Lohrenz, I am pretty well set for breakfast already. And since I yogi'ed dinner last night, I still have two dinners in my food bag. Pretty easy and cheap resupply here.

After that, I moseyed back to Hiker's Heaven to read a bit more and made plans to have pizza with a group of fellow hikers. Completely stuffed right now after splitting a 14" veggie pizza with No. 2. Which is good since after showering I weighed myself and it seems I am down to a lovely 172 pounds. Of course, I started at 181 pounds, so I can only assume I was overweight when I started. Yup. That must be it.

This entry is sort of rambling. But, my overall point is that this seems to be the pattern to life on the trail. Days of hard miles that can really kick your ass, exhaust you, and make you question why a sane person would be out here doing this...and then a day in a town or at a trail angel's abode where you recover and indulge in every single tempting morsel you can find. Rinse, repeat, keep on hiking.

When I started this trip, I had very little confidence that I would finish it. Honestly, when I was boarding the flight from Bellingham to San Diego, I admitted I thought I would be back within the week. Might be surprising to hear that if you understand how much planning and preparation when into this five month backpacking trip. With my knees and ankles all having been well used and abused for the past 30+ years, I thought it unlikely they would stand up to an average of 20 miles a day, for days upon days upon days, especially with not enough calories, water, or rest.

And yet, here we are. Over three weeks in and fast approaching an entire month on the trail. Statistically this means I am extremely likely to finish the entire Pacific Crest Trail this year. Blows my mind a bit. Not only that, I seem to be doing significantly better health-wise than the average thru-hiker. Still, there have been issues.

My right knee (the one that had surgery last year and required 6 months of physical therapy just to get me on a bike again) has exceeded every expectation. There was a little soreness initially and it will never quite bend smoothly again thanks to the defect in my cartilage and the tendon scar tissue, but the damn thing has never had a single bad day. Let us hope this continues.

My left knee had an elastic knee brace on it for the first two weeks because I strained it the week before starting the trail while moving out of the apartment. However, that brace came off completely a few days ago and it survived without pain for over 50 miles. Yesterday it developed a tiny amount of pain again, so I think the brace will go back on for the next couple weeks with occasional breaks. Still, so far so good.

The legs are otherwise fine. Every thru-hiker has what we call the "hiker walk" in the first week. Sort of a cowboy stance hobble and the inability to walk in a straight line without a pack on. Your body is adjusting to the miles and the muscles are not pleased with the unending toil. Eventually they adapt and you only have that hobble after really hard days.

The feet. I have only met a single hiker who has not had foot issues. There was a girl with 15 blisters, mostly between her toes. Mudd had a blister about three inches long straight down the ball of his foot to his arch. It looked horrific and when he drained it, he could not walk another mile. But my feet are doing reasonably well. One blister the first week that was at the crease of the big toe and a few decent ones on my heels since then. Nothing that has not been manageable with a bit of duct tape and some blister pads. I can definitely see that my skin is becoming thicker and tougher with the miles. If I continue treating them well (change socks, air feet, protect hot spots), I am hoping in another couple weeks hot spots and blisters will be a memory.

Otherwise, the body seems healthy. Definitely have lost a bit of weight. I suspect in the 5-7 pounds range. Muscles in my chest are getting little to no exercise, so my skinny thru-hiker physique is coming along splendidly. Long, muscular hiking legs and strong shoulders from the pack and poles. Will likely be rubbish at biking, climbing, and swimming when I finish though. Sacrifices must be made in the name of adventure.

Despite having rather speedy 4G access in most towns, I have been finding it extremely difficult to write anything on the iPhone. Simply is not a big enough screen with the keyboard to make writing enjoyable. One of those times when I wonder how an iPad Mini would hold up. For the most part, I am writing these blog posts whenever I get to a town that has a library. Alas, library internet is not overly fast and all the computers are using an old version of Internet Explorer by default. So, I have been downloading Chrome to make the whole writing situation more palatable. That takes a while with the connection speed and then in no time my time is up. Thus, these entries are written quickly and with very little proof reading. Anyhoo...here are a few updates regarding the gear I have been using.

Tarptent Contrail.

With such a lightweight and seemingly easy setup, I really thought I would love this tent for my first attempts at both doing a thru-hike and going ultralight. Alas, no. The desert regions have had rather strong winds and at times difficult ground (too hard, too sandy). Since the tent is not freestanding, it has been extremely difficult making it robust enough to survive a night of high winds. At Whitewater Creek, when the front containing a thunderstorm started coming in, my tent collapsed twice, despite staking it AND using a copious amount of rocks to reinforce the stakes. When you stop wanting to set up your tent at all and just cowboy camp every night, that is a problem. So, I threw in the towel and have ordered a new tent, Big Agnes Copper Spur UL1, from REI. It is a bit heavier, but it is freestanding and has been praised by other hikers on the trail.

Brooks Cascadia 8 Shoes.

Love these shoes. When I was testing shoes prior to the hiker, I always seemed to get sore feet after 8 or 10 miles. Not with these. I have done a 28 mile day in the desert heat and my feet were not sore afterwards. They may not be able to survive as much punishment as more dedicated hiking shoes though. Around mile 340, I noticed that the tread was loose and there were tiny holes where the end of my pinky toe ends. Thankfully, at Cajon Junction, a fellow hiker, Dingo, rented a car and we took a trip to REI (two hour trip because of a brush fire that closed the interstate and caused a massive traffic snarl).

REI, to their credit, replaced the shoes but with a stern look and voice informing me that these shoes were not meant for this manner of activity. We shall see if this pair survives the next 300-500 miles or if the PCT abuses it too much. Even if I have to replace them every 350 miles, I think I will stick with them, they are simply too light and comfortable.

Gossamer Gear Mariposa Backpack.

Solid. Light, perfect size, and so far standing up to the abuse. I have put one hole into its big mesh pocket, but that was a sharp trekking pole. One of the hip pouch zippers seems to be coming loose, but I think I can fix that up without any problem. The removal sit pad is genius. I had my doubts, but I use it multiple times a day.

ZPacks 900 Fill Power Down, 20 degree Sleeping Bag.

This one is tough. While up at Coon Creek Cabin, at over 8000 feet, the temperature dropped to at least 15 degrees Fahrenheit. I was perfectly cozy in this bag with my long underwear on and a hat. However, on those nights when the desert only cools to a balmy 58 degrees Fahrenheit, this bag is much much too warm. After hiking 20+ miles and eating a solid dinner, my legs seem to radiate ungodly amounts of heat. I have taken to putting on my sleeping clothes and using the sleeping bag as a blanket only for my top. This is not really the fault of the bag, but I do miss having a full length zipper so I can better free my legs to the night air while keeping my torso comfortable.

Sawyer Squeeze Water Filter.

This filter works well. It works really well. Having seen how much people love the inline Sawyer filter for their CamelBaks is having me contemplating a switch. It only takes probably 5-7 minutes to make all the water I will need for a long stretch, but it is not as convenient as simply being able to empty the water into your hydration bladder and go. No worries, virtually no effort. Hard to not desire that a bit. The REI we went to from Cajon Junction did not have the inline adapter in stock, but if I see it later on I might impulse buy it.

KEEN Socks.

More details about this will come a bit later. The Smartwool socks I started with did not survive much past two weeks; holes in the heels. The KEEN socks arrived 10 days in and 16 days in. They seem to be surviving, but thinning a bit in the heels and balls of my feet. We shall see how they survive the next two weeks.

Everything Else.

Those are the major items. Will have more likely later, but otherwise by gear is living up perfectly to my expectations. Two things I seem to be constantly low on is duct tape and blister bandaids. Even with airing out of my feet a few times a day and changing into dry (and maybe recently rinsed) socks, I seem to develop a hot spot or blister every few days. My feet are slowly recovering/thickening but the desert is a harsh mistress.

I am sure this comes as surprise to no one who has ever done any manner of outdoor activity with me, but I am both rather speedy and impatient. Prone to hours of intensive activity with single minded determinism. The distance from Idyllwild (Saddle Junction) to Big Bear (Highway 18) is 89.2 miles when you tack on the hike up the Devil's Slide trail from Idyllwild. Originally I had planned to do it in a bit over 5 days because of the elevation profile. Took me less than 4 days.

Works out to a little over 22 miles a day. One of those days was a 25 miler. That day started with a good plan of only doing 19 miles, but I reached that point around 2:30 in the afternoon. What do you do with yourself when your normal trail bed time is not for another 6.5 hours? So, I made a meal, got water, relaxed a bit, and then did six more miles to the Coon Creek Cabin Group Campground, where I spent a rather chilly night with a group of 10 other hikers in an open cabin. The next day was only 20 miles to the Highway 18 hitch into Big Bear, so even with a late start because of the 15 degree temperatures, I made it there by 2:30 p.m. again.

Think about that. You are out on a trail and you can do 20 miles irregardless of 5000-7000 foot climbs or descents before it is even 3pm. And you can easily go a day without seeing another soul, which does not help. One can only read so many books and admire so many beautiful clouds or gallant peaks before you simply want to keep on going. The trail is not getting any shorter. Keep hiking.

Of course, the consequence is that while you can pull off 25 mile days, you are still in your first few weeks and could easily push too hard. Also, you are leaving behind all those you started with or met along the way. I greatly enjoyed and bonded well with the group I met at Scout and Frodo's. Naturally, I would not mind seeing Amelia too. Even for an introvert like myself, it is really helpful to socialize a bit, have an unobtrusive conversation, even if it is just about the next day's challenge or how long to stop at a Trail Angel's rest area.

So, I reached Big Bear two days ahead of schedule. If I keep this pace up, I will reach Kennedy Meadows by the end of May, despite not really planning on being there until June 5th at the earliest. There is really no reason to rush. Despite the low snow year, there is still snow up in those high passes. My pace is my pace though. I have always had a hard time reining myself in without someone around to give me a reason.

Currently, I am taking my second zero mileage day in Big Bear and just had a second breakfast with three people I started with who just arrived in town. I suspect Amelia will reach the hostel this afternoon. Town days are expensive though. The Big Bear Lake hostel gives discounts for consecutive night stays but once you throw in food, it is costing me around $35 -$40 a day to stay in town.

::imagine Paul using his hands to indicate balancing scales::

A great balance exists between mileage, exhaustion, boredom, loneliness, socializing, productivity, and costs with the Pacific Crest Trail. Still working it all out. The trail is hard on your mind as well as your body, and while I had my suspicions about how strongly the contents of my own mind would weigh me down and cause struggle, it is hard to prepare for.

Southern California is extremely dry right now. This is the second low snow year in the Sierras and every single hiker is referring to the PCT Water Report as if it was holy scripture. Our lives are centered around water and when we are next going to find it. Two days ago I traveled a mile off trail, down into a canyon, simply to collect 3.5 liters of water from a reliable spring. And then, I carried that plus the 2.5 liters I left at the top of that side trail the rest of the day and into the next afternoon to insure I stayed well hydrated during my climbs in the San Jacinto area. Six liters of water is no small amount of weight, comrades.

So, as you would expect with so much dryness there is a fire ban in effect for this portion of the PCT. And yet, there are people who are snubbing their nose at common sense and ignoring the signs around them. I have seen two campfires and a half dozen cigarette butts on the trail in the past week. Already there have been two significant fires impacting the trail, one of which was caused by a hiker who did not effectively put out their fire before going to bed. This is concerning. Little to no recent precipitation, high winds, reckless people ignoring common sense, and two significant fires at the beginning of the hiker season. Hell, we just got into May and are only 180 miles into the trail.

It also makes me a bit angry. I am a big advocate of Leave No Trace principles. There are too many people in the wilderness to recklessly treat it as a disposable or infinitely abusable commodity. I love being outside. I love sharing the wilderness with others. But safely, with an eye towards impacting it as minimally as possibly so that future generations can enjoy it as we do. And, I really despise the fact that I might need to remind inconsiderate people to use that glucose and oxygen hogging organ in their skull to dredge up a little bit of common sense.

I am bitching a bit, I know (wait until I talk about blisters!) but when you are walking through an environment where three quarters of the cacti look to be dead and you hear about a recently contained fire just a couple days ahead, you really wonder about people who are either dumb or reckless enough to endanger themselves and others.

(All Mixed Metaphors and grammar mistakes provided by "Oh shit, 15 minutes left on the Library Computer!")

My day is ending in Idyllwild in a motel room with three other hikers who I just met earlier today on the trail. That is one of the magical parts of the Pacific Crest Trail. You meet people from multiple walks of life at different places in their lives who have all found themselves hiking 2650 miles from Mexico to Canada. You automatically have a new lifestyle in common. The planning. The gear. The daily grind. The beautiful highs and frustrating lows.

Coming into town after twenty four miles yesterday (including a rolled ankle less than two miles from camp) and then a hard, rugged climb today, it was almost relaxing to come into town and instantly have rapport with the dozen or so hikers in the pizza parlor.

Which is how I find myself sharing a motel room (two beds, a stove, fridge, and couch for less than $20 each) with Thread, Done-so (a play on Denzel) Washington, and Travis. All of which I met today. Pretty darn cool.

Here we are 110 miles into the Pacific Crest Trail. I am waiting inside the Warner Springs Post Office's lobby waiting for it to open so I can grab my first mailed resupply package and my first set of KEEN socks. While I am excited for the food, it also means quite a bit of extra weight in my pack.This morning I woke up with a pack that was lightweight and easy to lift. In just an hour I will load up with food and water to head back into the desert.

The desert is hot and dry. That fact cannot really be understated. It dictates every single aspect of our hiking life. Every day's mileage is directly related to the temperature and where the water can be found. We have walked past an uncountable number of dry creek beds. Our most common phrase is "tank up", which is when we fill our bodies and most of our water containers to survive the next stretch to reliable water.

So, I have been keeping a written journal of events but I think it is taking time away from any blogging. Will likely switch to blogging only once I get to Idylwild, where I intend to take a down day.

The hiking is going well but the energy levels at the end of the day for blogging have been non-existent. I am currently sitting underneath the overpass at Scissors Crossing waiting for the sun to sink lower before starting a long climb up out of the valley. Currently 82 here in the shade and slightly above 90 out there in the sun. A bit of wind is providing relief but still pretty darn hot on those sandy slopes. The weather report is hinting that we might be flirting with upper 90s over the next week.

Might write more later but if you want a slightly more consistent flow of trip updates follow me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/reedmaniac

Almost feel like I could just publish this entry with that title and skip the whole explanation bit. I mean, we have all had that experience where there is nothing left to do but wait and see how the adventure goes, right? All preparations are made, all training complete, and the rest is going to be handled hour by hour, day by day once you are out there. You are outwardly calm and yet your mind begins to remind you of what could possibly go wrong.

I was doing alright until Saturday when I strained my left knee while moving boxes up and down stairs. Since injuring my right knee and the surgery, the left one has had to do a bit more work and has taken more punishment as it compensated during the right's recovery. However, it seemed to handle it reasonably well, that is until moving day. And now, if anything the right one feels rather good in comparison. Almost like they agreed during the night to switch places. Driving my mind a bit nuts as now I am concerned that the left one is going to be painful. Oy meet vey.

Everything else is ready to go though. Gear is ready. Financials and mail taken care of. Relevant accounts changed over to Gmail. My entire PCT to do list is complete. Those knees though. Damn those knees.

In mid-February, I spent two weeks in Central Oregon taking a Wilderness First Responder (WFR) course offered by NOLS Wilderness Medicine Institute and sponsored by the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry (OMSI). Both my Oregon EMT license and National Registry EMT certification were up for renewal this year, so taking the course was an efficient way to get my continuing education credits out of the way as well as renewing the "wilderness" component of my Wilderness EMT. Not only that, but I got to spend two weeks out in the Oregon desert; clear, star-filed skies at night and beautiful views during my lunchtime hikes.

When I returned to Port Townsend, East Jefferson Fire-Rescue allowed me to join their current batch of EMTs in training for five weeks of lecture and skill practicals. Got to do everything from vehicle extrication at one of the local firehouses to relearning neonatal care (not so common in the backcountry, oddly). This training insured all of my urban EMT skills were up to snuff. March and April were a busy couple months as I was working full time and training/planning for the PCT too. But, all of the required paperwork and signatures were sent off a few weeks ago so I am not yet recertified but I am certifiable, again.

With all of this training, knowledge, and experience building a lightweight first aid kit for a 2,600+ mile hike is a Herculean battle between two opposing desires. How much weight is too much vs. what items are worth the weight given my skills. When I led outdoor trips, most organization-provided first aid kits that were around 5 pounds and were one lawyer recommendation away from containing an AED. On my own backpacking trips I usually have a first aid kit between a pound to a pound and a half that is meant to prevent an uncomfortable or problematic situation from becoming a really bad day.

Amelia commented when she saw my completed kit that I built this PCT first aid kit not for me but for everyone else on the trail, despite the fact that I do not particularly like most people and head into the wilderness to escape civilization. I am funny like that.

Since the PCT crosses many towns, roads, and campsites, there will be both urban and wilderness medical situations possible. The balance I tried to strike was between light and capable of handling the most likely scenarios, while not regretting what I could have carried but did not for weight reasons. Tough. And like all things, I will likely adjust it on the way.

The kit includes the following: Ace bandage, gauze roll, athletic tape, NSAID pain relievers, gloves + CPR face shield, moleskin, tweezers, pins, Benadryl, backup water purification tablets, QuikClot, triangle bandage, SecondSkin blister pads, bandaids, gauze pads. All for only 9.5 oz total, which is about the weight of 1.2 cups of water.

The majority of the what I have treated in the backcountry are blisters and musculoskeletal injuries There have been a few decent bleeds and cuts but nothing that a bit of gauze and tape cannot handle. So, I went with a half dozen blister pads, enough gauze to handle a few decent bleeds, and ace bandage + triangle bandage. Sure I could improvise something for the ace bandage or triangle bandage, but I have yet to meet a trained professional who would not greatly prefer to have it provided. Tape, pain relievers, tweezers, pins, and allergy meds are all lightweight, handy, and are pretty hard to improvise. Ever tried to synthesize aspirin in the wilderness? Not easy, my friends.

The gloves, CPR face shield and QuikClot are meant more for urban or semi-urban problems. In the back of my mind, I can just imagine hitching into town and seeing a car accident or having a respiratory or cardiac arrest at a campground. For their weight, they could realistically mean the difference between life and death. They could be the first things to go too as those scenarios seem the least likely.

For the weight of just over a cup of water, I feel pretty good about this kit. Anything else I might conceivably want, I can improvise (healing power of laughter!), find on the way (Tecnu), or it would be far heavier than I would be willing to carry (oxygen tank).