We have officially cleared all of southern California.  For those of you who do not realize, that means no more desert.  I had an extreme moment of clarity a few days ago, when the thought came to me that if given the opportunity to hike through the desert again, or have another baby, I'd choose the baby.  For anyone who knows our family, that is really saying something!

The Barracuda pulled a 29 mile day to get us into Kennedy Meadows, but the show put on during the sunset was well worth it!

We are currently in Kennedy Meadows - 702 miles.  It is the gateway to the Sierras and quite the milestone.  As far as I am concerned, we've made it.  We are mountain people.  Cool breezes, serious elevation gains, passes, ridges, those are our kind of hikes.  I have no worry about snow.  I know how to judge the wind.  I know how to keep a tent down on rocky outcroppings.  I'm all over that.  Searing heat, swirling wind from everywhere, complete sand with no rocks, and gale force winds....um no thank you.

As you can see, The Barracuda loves the desert as well

We are about to enter the largest continuous wilderness stretch in the United States.  Needless to say the cell phone/internet coverage is a bit scarce.  We will be checking in as much as possible and posting up pictures when we can.  All in all the John Muir Trail is waiting for us, the Sierras are waiting for us, and the Mohave has been left behind!

Here's to another 700 miles.

 The Barracuda & Sparrow working on their tans in the desert.

Please forgive the time it has taken to get a post update on the Sparrow and the Barracuda’s PCT thru-hike.  The end of the school year, packaging mail drops, and completing projects around our little cabin has been occupying a lot of my time.  Because of the rustic, simple life we are fortunate to live, items like putting back a year’s supply of wood for the coming winter is crucial before I can feel good leaving to hike for the summer.  One of our neighbors, who lives in an expansive house up the road, once commented that we are “camping out” in our cabin.  As I was chopping this year’s wood, I couldn’t help but think that our humble little cabin and the voluntary simplicity that we practice has likely made the Barracuda’s transition to hiking easier for him than it might be for other adults and kids alike.  The Barracuda is comfortable being outside.  Heck, we have a healthy population of bears, cougars, and bobcats that roam the woods our home is surrounded by.  On the trail, the Barracuda has impressed other hikers by making the campfire, but it must seem so common to him due to our lifestyle a home.  I’m glad he is comfortable camping out, because it allows him to focus on the physical challenge of hiking and to appreciate the things around him. 

 "Camping out" at the cabin last winter

Since the last post, the Sparrow and the Barracuda have walked through the Mojave Desert section of the PCT.  In addition to the heat, they had 50-60 mile an hour winds during the evenings.  As a result of this wind, they had difficulties keeping their TarpTent erect in powdery soft sand that refused to hold stakes, and this caused a few sleepless evenings for the Sparrow as she struggled to brace the tent.  They have hiked approximately 630 miles and should be reaching Kennedy Meadows sometime tomorrow.  I say approximate because our phone provider has zero coverage in the area they are currently traveling through, and there were 5 days with no contact from them.  The first 3 days were easy, but the over protective husband and father started to worry after day 4.  So I was thrilled to get a call from Brynn the other night from a borrowed cell phone.  They are in great spirits and just as determined as ever.  Their pace and confidence is up. 

From where they are currently, they are beginning their climb up into the mountains.  While this means they have some serious elevation to climb, it also means cooler temperature, real trees for shade, and a greater abundance of water.  After their hike through the desert, they will happily take the elevation change for these benefits.  By the time I connect with them, in 7 days, they will have climbed to almost 11,000 feet.  From Independence, CA I will be hiking with them throughout the summer with the goal of reaching the Oregon/Washington border before I have to return for the 2013 school year.  I simply can’t wait to be with them on the trail.  I’m so very proud of both of them, but I’m eager to take some of the physical and emotional weight off of Brynn’s shoulders.  She’s carried a lot these past 630 miles.

I can’t wait to be a complete family, including our crazy dog, moving nomadically up the PCT.  It has been 11 years since I’ve hiked a long distance trail, and I’m looking forward to the peace and serenity such a journey leaves one with.  To be able to share that experience with my wife and son makes me feel like the richest man alive.      

It is 10 o'clock.  That is 2 hours past Hiker Midnight.  I would not classify myself as exhausted, but my body is definitely asking what's up.

Staying up late at the Saufley's in Agua Dulce, wearing a hiker box pirate hat, loving the fully charged iPod. Over 40% of hikers have now dropped out, less than 5% will drop out now.  Agua Dulce means we have made it.  It is definitely a time to celebrate.

Backpacking is all about routines, and due to the nature of The Barracuda, we are even more strict than many.  The boy is very Type A and watns things very specific.  Pushing the usual 8 pm bedtime isn't going over very well with my pineal gland.   But we are zeroing tomorrow and there are blog posts to be written!  My pineal gland can suck it up!

During the day at home, I will frequently jot down notes when I go about my day.  Out here, I talk to myself in my head as I walk since note jotting isn't going to happen.  More often than not, the ideas tend to revolve around realizations about the character of our intrepid son.

Mile 400!

The Barracuda always walks in front of me.  Originally this was so that I could monitor his pace, his water consumption, his walking (for blisters, pack burns, and other such issues), and all that other mom stuff.  However, it has now turned into me following him because he is significantly faster than I am.  The boy has found his 2.5 mile an hour pace and is quickly working on gaining a 3 mile an hour pace.  Hiking has given him a sense of personal actualization which seems to be taking off.  This goal is one which can be made or lost all by himself and there haven't been too many of those instances in his life previously outside of his schoolwork.

More than anything I am struck by his desire to continue into unknown territory quite boldly.  At first I took this to be a level of naive childishness.  However, now that he has experienced dehydration and calorie loss, the desire to forge on seems only more secure.  It is a level of confidence which seems so foreign to me. Each night we discuss the coming miles; each day he presses on through heat and tired trudging. As we enter the Mohave desert (where water is quite questionable all the time and temerpatures reach somewhere between 120 and 140 regularly) he takes a deep breath, sets his shoulders, and heads out in the morning.

Hanging out on top of Mt. Baden-Powel.  Yep, that's snow in the background.  The pine trees are completely frosted solid and with the windchill it got down into the teens the night before.  You'd never know we were in the desert!

Somewhere along the line, he has gained the prespective that this too shall pass.  He has come to see that there are many things which we cannot control, but those he can, he will.  He can control his mindset.  He can control his pace.  He can control how hard he tries.  He can control that each day he leaves it all out there on the trail in the pursuit of tomorrow.

I would love to declare that I have taught him this - that somewhere my incredible parenting is shining through the grit, grime, and stentch of a stressful trail - but I cannot.  On the contrary.  Many days it is he who is teaching me.

There are 9 of us total who are hiking together from all over the United States. The Barracuda hikes on with everyone else.  Even through the miles of road walks, the hitchhikes, the detours, he continues on playing at the end of the day with everyone in any way he can.  He started out as "The Boy" and has quickly become "The Barracuda" who is listened to like any other member of the group when it comes time for opinions and voting.  He's earned his place, one step at a time. 


  "Am I willing to give up what I have in order to be what I am not yet?  Am I able to follow the spirit of love into the desert? It is a frightening and sacred moment.  There is no return.  One's life is charged forever. It is the fire that gives us our shape."

 ~Mary Richards

(Brynn never gets any pictures of herself.) 

I live for evenings when I get a call around 7:00pm; I run to the cell hoping it's Brynn.  When I'm not disappointed by a telemarketer, I listen with awe at all that Dae and Brynn have seen and accomplished.  Tonight we talked about a detour they were having to take due to some scrub brush that was running rampant.  It seems this plant, that had grown back in abundance after a recent wildfire destroyed its competition, has very nasty burrs that work their way into your skin and cause severe itching and possibly blistering.  Thus, a road walk was today's adventure.  

Sure, Brynn cuts in and out as reception isn't always the best, but it lifts my spirits knowing they are at camp, settling down after a long day, cooking, and preparing to snuggle down for the night.  Brynn and I have a pretty great relationship, largely due to simply talking with each other on a regular basis.  This sounds like something every couple should do, but I'm reminded more and more by friends and acquaintances that this is all to often something that gets put aside or lost in the multitude of other chores.  We are blessed with a dock that now overlooks a sand flat, but it does offer solitude, quiet, huge views of the stars, and the ideal spot to spend an evening talking with a partner.  It is a ritual that Brynn and I do consistently, so these phone calls have really been a great solution while she is away hiking.  

Tonight, I was talking with the Barracuda, which mostly consists of me taunting him about the hugs, kisses, and snuggles I'm going to give him when I see him.  I've coined the day we see each other as "SnuggleFest 2012".  I'm being silly with him, and he breaks this out on me.  "You know, this trip has been a lot harder than I thought it was going to be when I said I wanted to hike the PCT."  He said this not with dread or in weakness; instead, he was enthusiastic and talking about how he was working on his 3 mile an hour pace.  And how could he, a child who still doesn't fully grasp scale yet, possibly imagine how huge of a challenge he is taking on.  That he wakes up happy and excited to meet this growing realization of what lays before him is simply inspiring.  I can't imagine all the things he's done and experienced, but I don't think my boy will be the same kid I dropped off at the border two month earlier.    

 

(Still no camera.  We've taken a slight detour and will be in Wrightwood, picking up the camera by Friday.  If we miss the post office, then we will be picking it up Tuesday or forwarding.  At this point, we're just winging it. :)

Every bit of the mother in me says we should just go home.  I look at my dirty, scuffed up little ruffian and know he is suffering.  He is severely dehydrated, massively lacking calories, and sweltering in the heat.  But, I also know how much his heart is in this.  I know what it would mean to him for me to stop us.  I realize that in this instance the physical sacrifice is much more important than the emotional burden of failure.

Some time ago I wrote about how every true backpacking adventure has a moment where you think "What the hell am I doing?!"  If it didn't, it wouldn't be an adventure.  This morning as I was holding my son over the sink for him to dry heave, I had that moment.

What the hell am I doing?

Let me start at the beginning.

Three days ago, The Barracuda began fussing about 3 miles into the day.  I handled it magnificently by telling him to drink a lot of water, provided a gulp of Gatorade, and demanded he suck it up.  At mile 5, he passed out.  I tried to keep the horseflies off him and let him sleep for a half hour as I contemplated my Child Protective Services report "Mother of the Year" speech.  The boy had burned every spare calorie his body had in reserve and could not eat enough to sustain the calories he had been burning during the day.  This resulted in severe sugar shock.

The day continued with 100+ degree temperatures, 100 percent exposure, contouring with no where to stop, and swarms of horseflies everywhere.  It sucked monumentally.  We did not have enough water to make a full meal (it was a lengthy waterless stretch and extreme heat so lunch was going to be tuna fish), but I pushed every spare piece of food possible into The Barracuda.  Two moon pies, a package of cheese and crackers, 4 liters of Gatorade, 3 liters of water, a block of cheese, 2 tuna fish packets, some Sun Chips, a bag of Doritos, and 4 trail bars later.  We made it Silverwood State Park.  By that time we were out of water, exhausted and had undergone the single worst day of backpacking I have ever experienced.  I had only eaten a Snickers bar the entire day and thoroughly must have looked it when a startled Ranger directed us to a closed group camp one mile away.  He said we could stay for free, following up with, "The showers are locked up, though." You forget how much you smell out here.

We took a 15 minute break where The Barracuda shared an orange with another hiker who kept flashing me nervous looks. He left us with, "Kid, you are tougher than I will ever be."

Trail Magic is a funny thing.  It perks up whenever you think everything is lost.  The group campground next to us is occupied by the Tree House of Sequoyah School - just about the greatest bunch of 3rd and 4th grade campers I've ever met!  The Barracuda and I were invited to eat dinner with them - pesto pasta, salad, bread, sausages, strawberries and cream - share a campfire, play games, and generally treated amazingly well.  There are many Trail Angels out there, but the best ones are the ones who you don't expect and aren't trying to do anything but show extreme generosity in bizarre coincidences. They made our day melt away.  They made the next day easier.  They helped in times when all seemed lost and didn't even know they were doing it.  Thank you, Emily and Treehouse.

The next day we hiked 13.6 miles to the trailside McDonalds (there is even a wooden trail marker), ate 2700 calories each.  In another bizarre coincidence, a fellow hiker lived in Riverside, California, the exact suburb of Los Angeles my high school friend works/lives in.  We were given a ride and are currently sitting out the trail on a very much needed zero day.  The Barracuda has recovered from his morning puking and is currently watching cartoons in Marjorie's air conditioned studio apartment.  The laundry has been done and giant burritos have been consumed (more calories the better).  Everything has been charged up and we head out tonight to catch our ride back to the trailhead.

Last night we got to sit in on her graduate class about the implications of manners in the development of the Novel.  It was quite an interesting experience to be sitting, stinky and covered with dirt, in a classroom full of strangers discussing what it means socially to have manners.  Oh the irony....

We are back to the trail in the morning to bust out 20+ miles to Wrightwood!

 (The Sparrow & the Barracuda at one of the great town stops along the way.)

Town stops are hedonistic.  This morning our roommates were getting rid of some Nutella, so The Barracuda and I ate spoonfuls in bed while watching cartoons and drinking soda.  We finished off the last 2/3rds of the container. It was a great breakfast.

Earlier in the day we went to Sizzler and ate until both of us thought we might puke.  There was an endless salad bar, and endless taco bar, and an endless dessert bar.  We stayed for over 2 hours.  It was an awesome pre-dinner.


On the way into town we grabbed 4 sodas out of the cache the hotels had set up as advertising.  We don't drink pop at home, but it contains too many calories to waste out here.  They were a delicious pre-lunch.

Before we caught our bus back to the trailhead, The Barracuda ate an entire large pepperoni pizza himself.  It was just over 2,300 calories.  I thought I would get a slice or two, but apparently not.

But the greatest part has to be the "hotel."  I use that term lightly.  There are hotels in most towns, but our trail budget doesn't really allow us to stay in them.  Plus, we are just too dirty.  They call it "hiker ring" when PCT hikers get out of a bathroom or shower and the highly visible dirt ring lingers.  Let's be real, we're foul.  However, considering that anything even remotely couchlike, a microwave, and hot water are mystical luxuries, we don't require much.

This last night, we stayed at Nature's Inn.  It is a place on the trail people talk about for a good 40 miles out.  The manager is a little wacky and the employees have enough prison tattoos for there to be no doubt they have served some serious time.  You have to share a room with other hikers who are total strangers - if you even get a room, they will house you anywhere, even in a back closet - and often times that can mean sleeping on a couch.  The back patio advertised is a ram-shackled deck sort of thing looking out on 3 feet of patchy scrub grass and the Wi Fi is the world's slowest laptop in the back room.  But everyone tends to come.  Hikers hang out on the front porch swings.  They congregate in the back room with ancient board games containing improvised pieces long since missing the originals.  They laugh till all hours and then pass out everywhere.

Do not be fooled - The Natures Inn is a major destination. 

In every room there are jacuzzi tubs!  This post was written on crinkled, water sploched notebook paper from a full sized jacuzzi with steaming hot water and bubbles!  There was even a fresh new razor to my left and a soda on my right.  There are few luxuries on the trail, but, my goodness, this is one was divine!

It was just like the movie Pretty Woman...you know...if Julia Roberts was a long distance backpacker who hadn't bathed in over a week and there was no Richard Gere.

The Sparrow and The Barracuda's Grand Adventure
Mile Post ~ 270 Miles


The last 2 ½ weeks have been busy ones for the Barracuda and the Sparrow, but I am very happy to report they are in excellent spirits and moving north on schedule.  I feel fortunate to be able to relay their experiences as I have thoroughly enjoyed hearing their voices and talking with them on evenings that cell reception allows.  Each day, as they gain experience and confidence on the trail, they seem lighter on their feet and more absorbed in the thru-hiker culture of the Pacific Crest Trail.  They are now talking the talk and walking the walk. 

Trying to convey another long distance hiker’s experiences, either physical and emotional, seems rather short sighted, as each hiker’s journey is so individual.  I still can’t get my head around how amazing and challenging this PCT hike must be for the Barracuda.  And I never fully understand my amazing wife, so what follows will be my bird’s eye view of their experiences based on my own past long distance hiking.  

(I can tell you one of the Barracuda's favorite things is eating!)

Working Out The Bugs:

I find weekend and week long hiking trips so difficult, because you don’t truly have enough time to learn to live out of a backpack.  By the time a short trip is over, you're just starting to learn all the quirks of setting up the tent, preparing meals, and doing the routine hiking chores.  About the time you figure out how to load your pack just right and how those shoulder straps shift the weight around it is the end of your trip.  The Sparrow and the Barracuda have crossed over that line at this point and have worked out most of these little issues.  They have established a routine, which is truly crucial for the Barracuda, and both of them know their responsibilities. 

This has been a huge breakthrough for the Sparrow, as much of the hiking we have done in the past has been together.  I’ll admit I have a pretty ingrained system that works for me based on my past hiking experiences, and the Sparrow has generously yielded to that pattern when we are together.  As the sole parent hiking with our son though, she has had to throw off those past routines because the division of responsibilities isn’t an option.  Nearly every task, from filtering water to breaking down camp, now resides on her, and my system simply didn’t work for one parent.  The great news is I get the feeling that establishing her own methods and tricks is liberating, as we usually approach a problem form completely different angles.  

(Both the Barracuda and The Sparrow are pretty amazing.)

 The Sparrow, with grace and patience, has somehow managed to figure out how to live out of a pack, route find, plan for water needs in the desert, prepare food after long, tiring days, and set up and take down camp.  While that may sound like what any other hiker does, the remarkable part is that she has figured out how to do all that while also parenting the Barracuda.  On top of the regular obstacles and challenges of hiking, she is mom: checking for blisters, making sure the Barracuda is drinking enough, providing encouragement (often when she is tired), and generally putting her needs behind that of our son.  Words can’t express how awed and impressed I am in her abilities and strength. 

  

The Terrain:

(A water cache provided and stocked by trail angels.  This is the only water source available for many miles.)

 Based on my short experience on their first day, I can only say it is hot!  The Laguna mountains and San Jacinto mountains have offered a harsh introduction to the trail, with full exposure to the sun on very hot days.  They have climbed ridge-lines in full sun and traversed ranges in high winds.  Several days have broken the 100 degree marker, and water is scarce.  Budgeting water and timing water sources has required a pacing schedule that has necessitated planning, and once or twice hiking a mile (or three) with empty water bladders.  One rule of hiking that quickly becomes apparent when you lift a backpack is that 1 quart of water weighs 2 pounds.  Some of the hiking has required the Barracuda to carry 2 ½ quarts and the Sparrow to carry up to 6 quarts of water to reach the next source.  Even with a light base weight, this quickly adds to their loads. 

The irony is that they also face dramatic swings in temperature at night.  While the days may be scorching, the evening temperatures often drop into the 30’s.  Because they are becoming use to the heat, the contrasting evening temperatures often find them wearing every scrap of clothing they own.  

(A cold start after a colder night.  The temperatures will quickly warm up.)

  

The Hiker-Trash Culture:

The Sparrow and the Barracuda are not alone one this journey to Canada: each year the PCT hosts a new batch of migratory hikers all striving to make the trip.  These are fellow travelers who have trod the same ground as them, feasted on the same natural wonders, and suffered the same challenges.  This forms bonds unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced, and the Sparrow and the Barracuda have made quite a few amazing new friends.  Hikers, like everybody else, are drawn toward the Barracuda, and his charisma and zest for fun has even gotten tired trail hikers to play tag after a long day.  The Sparrow has found support and friendship among the community, and it is great to hear her talking with these hikers.  They are a tight knit group, and the cost of entrance to the group is shared experiences and miles.  I am thankful for each of these people.  Though I don’t know them, they have camped with my wife and son when they were close to the Mexican border for added security, provided encouragement and warm smiles, bartered and given food to an always starving stinky boy, literally  given the Sparrow the shorts she lives in, and made the trip one that the Barracuda will never forget.  If you’ve never experienced the long distance hiking community, it is simply unbelievable and will quickly renew your faith in humanity.  

I'm counting the days until I can meet up with the Sparrow and the Barracuda.  I can think of no better way to spend the summer than hiking with my crazy family. 

Hiking is dangerous business!

This sign showed up in the scrub desert just outside Mt. Laguna.  It seemed a bit nonchalant, but then what do I know.

Pacific Crest Trail – Update on the Kick Off

 

 (The Barracuda standing at the official start of the PCT in Campo, CA.

Behind him you see the ominous fence marking the U.S/Mexican border.)

If this format doesn't match what you are use to seeing, it is because I, Jules, will be posting weekly updates to the blog while the family is hiking the PCT.  I will do my best to keep the same tone and vibe you are use to reading, but I will confess upfront that I am a bit of a Luddite and not very computer savvy.  This post will also be a quick update, but I will post again this weekend with more details. 

As I type this, The Barracuda and Brynn are well into their first hundred mile section of the PCT.  After all the stressful days of planning and packing, I think they were both happy to be underway and in the car this past Thursday.  After a two day, 18 hour rode trip, we made it to Campo, CA.  I was lucky enough to hike the first 20 mile section with them and see them off.  Despite truly sweltering conditions and many dry water sources, they are in great spirits and moving north.  As you can imagine, I'm quite proud of them both.   

 I'm going to bed and then get to get up in less than 2 hours.  The car is mostly packed with roadtrip junk.  The house is mostly filled with maildrop boxes.  The sink is still mostly crammed with dishes (which might just wind up unwashed).  My brain is mostly still going on overdrive.  I'm pretty sure I'll leave my hiking shoes at home, or that I will forget to bring a memory card for the camera, or that I'll lose my ID along the way and be arrested by border patrol for being "ethnic looking."  But, then again, isn't that part of the adventure?

The snaggle tooth is the seat of his power, and yes he is as tall as a standard bar stool, only bigger.
Optimus (aka The Moose) came from one of Jules' students.  He needed a home, Jules needed a Mastiff, and one day Moosey followed Jules home from work.



On Saturday early morning, The Barracuda let Optimus outside to go potty.  He was limping a little, but with his giant size that isn't odd first thing in the morning.  Often times he flops his big Moosey butt down and winds up lying funny on one of his hind legs.  We left to go visit a friend's farm, but when we came home he was still limping.  We checked him out, but couldn't find an issue with his paw.  Then we noticed the large lump on his back hip.  In three hours, it looked like it was his front paw that was hurting instead.  By that time it was Saturday evening/night and we decided to take him into the big city animal hospital on Monday.  There aren't too many vets that know what to do with a 220 lb Mastiff.  Our rural area helps quite a bit since there are many "everything" vets, which are both large and small animal vets all in one building, but it is still an issue sometimes.


Jules helped Optimus out to go potty Sunday early morning and it was obvious Moosey was starting to hurt.  He isn't a fussy dog.  Yelping or whimpering means quite a bit.  It became apparent Optimus was losing mobility fast.  We hadn't thought about that.  If your giant dog (who is far bigger than either adult in the family) can't move, you can't move him.  He just can't get to the point he is completely immobile.  We went to church and arranged for the local vet (a church member) to come over that afternoon and check Optimus out.

When we got home, that wasn't even an option.  We took him to the emergency hospital in the big city that afternoon.  They knew when we brought him in that it wasn't good.  He was in late stages of a systemic problem and had almost reached paralysis in his right side.  It took less than 36 hours for our very young doggy to go from big slobbery to critical condition.

The beginning of Optimus' life wasn't very happy.  We rescued him from an unstable situation.  He had had lots of pain and fear somewhere judging from the nightmares we frequently had to talk him down from.  More pain and fear wasn't something I was willing to put him through, especially since the vets didn't know if they would be able to fix it.  They weren't going to flat out say it, but the options were pretty minimal. 

We buried him today, out on the sand flat which he loved so much (in what must have looked like a Mafia hit to anyone who didn't realize we owned a dog that big).  Guadie came out to supervise, nudging and smelling her treasured brother and bringing all of us to tears.  We called on St. Isidore, the Patron Saint of Agriculture, to look out for Optimus (Isidore was his patron saint due to how much Moosey loved food).  

Ashes to Ashes.  Stardust to Stardust.

Death is something our family has seen a lot of due to working with at-risk teenagers.  When The Barracuda was about 5, he was completely amazed to go to a funeral for an adult. With wide-eyed astonishment he declared, "Adults die?"  (It was a parent of the year moment for Jules and I).  So we are grieving slowly, coming to terms with what we can in the quiet silence of the woods.  The Barracuda is whittling a memorial and Jules is getting Optimus' paw prints framed.  Guadie is still looking for him and perks up anytime she hears his name.  It might have only been a year, but the big, drooly, stinky, stubborn mutt was definitely a member of our family.

Moosey liked to eat things - drywall, the couch, paint, 2x4's, anything dead, the digital camera, my clothing, insulation, library audio books, anything plastic and expensive.  Moosey stank worse than any animal I've ever known. He snored like a 90 year old man, grunted whenever we asked him to move more than about 4 yards, farted more often than should have been normal, belched audibly, sneezed in your face and groaned from the strain of sleeping on the couch 16 hours a day.  As far as he was concerned our 380 square foot house was the basecamp of the Optimus theocracy which worshiped his awesomeness.

Damn dog was so spoiled.  He's still a puppy in this picture.  We had to upgrade his belt  collar when he outgrew that one.  In the end, half of him hung off the sofa most of the time and the pillows worked wonders as a drool bib.


 
Moosey was very stubborn, very drooly, wandered off frequently, had more confidence than anything I've ever known, and in general was Jules' favorite creature on earth. He liked to give hugs, loved to snuggle, and would crawl into your lap whether you wanted him to or not.  Any sort of contact normally resulted in a need to change clothes due to the 6+ inches of drool (and whatever he recently ate) dangling down from his massive lips.

Afterall, the entire reason Daddy was on the sofa was to snuggle, right?.  What evening would be complete without an Optimus drooling in your lap?


 As annoying as all that sounds - and at times was - it quickly became incredibly endearing and very soon Optimus had his own voice in our family (it sounds something like Forrest Gump since genius is not a major character trait).

He loved his boy something fierce and the feeling was mutual.  Though he was rare to growl, don't mess with his boy.


His head was huge, his body bigger, and his visual spacial skills were seriously lacking.  He'd frequently lock himself in the bathroom, step on your unsuspecting foot, or knock you over with his giant behind.  Watching him eat was legendary, watching him drink water was a bit upsetting to your stomach, and often Guadalupe would stare at him in complete bafflement/awe as he ate or drank. 

The dog loved to eat snow.  He wouldn't touch it once it fell to the ground, buy anything in the air was fair game

You will be missed you giant, snaggle-toothed lummox.  There is nothing in creation which could ever possibly replace you.

So, what do we do without television?  We read and snuggle a whole lot!

 The Moose loves to snuggle more than anything and has discovered reading time is the best time to sneak (I used this term lightly) up onto the couch with others.  Unfortunately for the reader, he is too big to fit anywhere but onto your lap.

Ironically enough, when I discuss the stress of preparing for our hike, I'm not really discussing the hike at all.  The actual hiking of the Pacific Crest Trail has not been the most intensive part of my preparations.  The things I will be leaving here at home are significantly larger logistical issues than the process of hiking across the nation.  That right there should be a good indicator of how much mom's and housewives actually do!

Most of my preparations as of late have been food related.  Though Jules survived many bachelorhood years before I was in the picture, the main sustenance contained some mixture of tuna fish, cheese, mustard, salsa, sour cream, mayonnaise and chips.  Most all meals were microwavable and many came in plastic bags with various colorful fast food chain logos printed on them.  During college, many calories were also consumed in liquid form of either alcohol or Coca-Cola. Now, not so much.  I would be judicious with the words "Food Nazi," but let's just say I'm a bit more specific about what I put into my body.  Case and point, I'm battling being sick right now and the boys are off at McDonalds.  While Jules offered, I declined any take out.  They are both eating multiple double cheese burgers to be sure, since The Barracuda is now keeping up with both his father and I in food consumption.

"Huh? Food!?!"  This is the face Optimus gets anytime food or food related subjects are discussed in our house.  The dog will wake out of a dead, snoring sleep if he hears any kind of packaging crinkle or any jar pop.  He sleeps through much everything else.

Jules' original reaction to 60 days all by himself was quite a delighted squeal and a run to Taco Bell for a 12 pack of tacos.  After consuming about 4, he began to realize the thrill might be gone.  Not to be thwarted, he continued in true bachelor fashion and was promptly quite sick.  He didn't feel "normal" again until a couple days later.  I rubbed it in relentlessly quietly chuckled from the kitchen where I made more real food.  We haven't visited Taco Bell much since.

Shortly there after, we talked a bit more about this whole eating-while-I-was-gone thing and I suggested a meal planner.  That didn't go over very well at first, but soon the thought of coming home from work and being able to have food without thinking sounded pretty good.  Our meal planner is much like one from Traveling Mel.  It has a calendar which tells Jules exactly what to pull out the night before to defrost, what to pack for lunch the next day, and what to do with the defrosted/canned items for dinner that evening.  There are recipes and quick tutorials if he needs them.  There is even a grocery list in the back which will provide him with the exact quantities of what to get so that he doesn't wind up without something important.
 

Frozen half gallons of tortilla chicken soup, ready to be defrosted and eaten.

The freezer is quickly filling up.  My hat is off to all those working mom's who freeze and prepare meals for their families.  Taking one day a week and making big batches, figuring out how much extra to prepare so that one whole meal can go into the freezer, those were not tasks anywhere near my normal life.  It takes work.  Work that many mom's do on their precious down time.  Way to go, all of you!

The enchilada assembly line progressed this week and they were all wrapped in wax paper and Zip-Locked up.

Over the next couple days, Jules is getting crash courses in cooking.  He's doing well and we have all been quite happily eating what he makes. So far, it appears to have met his rigorous standards - hot, covered in cheese, contains meat in some form, has less than 4 steps. He's feeling much better about his food options, though we are still joking that without cooking lessons he might just show up to meet us weighing 400 lbs due to eating junk.

Jules would like me to reiterate that he is not stupid or helpless.  On the contrary, he's quite talented.  However, when we decided to diversify the household chores around here I took over the kitchen.  We have steadily progressed to the point there is no insta-food left.  If microwave and stir is involved, Jules is all over it.  If open, dump contents, stir, place in oven are the steps, he can create some very tasty-ish things.  We don't really have much of that kind of food left unless I pre-make it. 

In many ways Jules is greatly stepping out of his comfort zone, just like The Barracuda and I.  Traveling for 60 days and living for 60 days without the other partner is a very new experience for this highly interdependent family.  This was somehow left out of my mental game plan when the whole PCT thing was originally discussed.

His enchiladas turned out really well and were completely unsupervised as I took a shower.

The major bonus of all this food prep is that we don't need much by way of groceries for the next 6 months.  With backpacking food all measured, prepped and parceled the entire time we are hiking is taken care of.  We are still bringing cash with us for fresh veggies along the way and the occasional town stop to eat as many calories as we can cram in, but that doesn't amount to too much money.  With me preparing all of Jules' food, his grocery bill is going to be pretty darn tiny as well.  Mainly he will be purchasing the fresh salad stuff, fruits, a block of cheese or two, and snacks.

A southern man cannot be left without his cornbread!

It is odd to think of this kind of trip saving us money, but I've crunched the numbers multiple times now and it appears that we will be putting a good 300 extra dollars a month in the bank.  The original purchasing for our hike has worked out to be approximately 100 dollars extra over the last 4 grocery bills.  With our tiny house, we rarely meet the minimum for our electric bill, so the processing of the food doesn't play much into the equation.   It is really quite a testament to how purchasing in bulk, careful planning, and proper food storage can save families significant amounts of money.   If saving money proves to work out true, you can bet we will be doing this much more readily as the years progress.  The Barracuda has quite a long list of hikes he wants to do and saving money sure makes that prospect a bit easier!

I'm now off to dehydrate another giant bag of potatoes, package up some oatmeal, and start putting everything into mail drop boxes!

T Minus 16 days and counting.  After a solid 10 days of Pacific Crest Trail madness, I think both The Barracuda and I have hit burn out.  We are both still in our pajamas....and its after 1 o'clock in the afternoon.  I should be dehydrating 18 more potatoes.  He should be doing his Latin work.  I'm here at the computer; he's in his pajama pants out on the flat making a sand castle empire.  He's not wearing a shirt, or shoes, or socks and I had to specifically tell him that he needed to keep his pants on.  One nice day and the boy becomes a nudist.  I guess that's one of those perks to living no where near another living soul. Fortunately, his outdoor presence does give me quite a nice chunk of time to do some quite lengthy Trail School planning.

A bit of background about our individual homeschooling situation is in order.  Homeschooling is such a varied dynamic that explaining a few key points of background info about how we handle it might be helpful.

The Charter School
As a family, we receive quite a nice chunk of state funding for our homeschooling as long as we go through a few, pretty minor hoops.  The only restriction we have is that the state cannot pay for religious curriculum.  Other than that, we can do dang near anything we want to.  There is no specified curriculum, no number of hours needing to be logged, no style necessary.  For the first two years we were complete unschoolers and it didn't matter.  What it has meant for our son is that he receives a much higher level of education than we could have provided otherwise.  Six hundred dollar Rosetta Stone would not exist, nor would the hundreds of dollars of art supplies.  It also means an official transcript.  As high school teachers of alternative education, both Jules and I see the dark side of homeschooling.  If the parents do not keep accurate records or report the correct way, kids get the brunt of it when they rejoin the traditional system.  Grade levels are lost, hours of learning disappears, and kids are left with even more adjustment to the transition.  It gets ugly and it isn't an isolated case. Even worse are the kids whose families have had a dramatic loss and that is the reason they rejoin school.  No one intended on stopping the homeschooling.  No one even wants it.  Dad lost his job and both parents are now working remedial jobs to support the family.  Someone died and homeschooling just can't happen.  A forced move to a state which requires such elaborate paperwork homeschooling becomes impossible mid-year.  That gets even uglier.  It is worth it for us to have all the formal, federally recognized paperwork just in case. The trade off is our level of reporting.  Once a week we are required to check in and give a quick (2-3 sentences) summary of what we have done in each subject.  Once a month I update a list of goals (completed, in progress, and new) and give a very short blurb (6-8 sentences) on where we are heading for next month.  Each year there is one annual test for growth and to check on special services needs.  The test causes me and the kiddo a bit of stress mainly because of the word "test." Every year it isn't a big deal; every year I go on stressing about it. We don't test around here.  Not really, anyway.  However, I do realize it is very easy to miss red-flag issues when you are surrounded by your own child all the time, especially when you don't do things the "normal" way.  It has also been so incredibly helpful in keeping The Barracuda's curriculum well rounded.  By the sheer nature of being only 7, The Barracuda has not experienced much.  It isn't possible; he hasn't been on the planet long enough.  I feel it is my job as his parent to show him how awesome all sorts of things can be and make them understandable to his experiences.  Up until the age of about 12-15, kids scores should be pretty darn close to level across the board.  This is not due to strengths/weaknesses, but just general neural development as the brain develops both sides fairly evenly until the hypothalamus really kicks into overdrive. Overall test scores can show me very quickly if we are slouching on one subject or I haven't found a way to make the learning "real" for him. It forces direct accountability and scheduling for me.  All of this to say, we can't just stop school because we are going on a hike.

The Barracuda is missing a good 2 months worth of school at the end of this school year, and a good portion of the month in the beginning of next school year.  With a 9 month school calendar (when you take out Spring Break, Winter Break, and holiday breaks) that adds up to be almost a third of the year.  School has to happen on the trail if we want to send the message education is an important life pursuit.  Evenmore, Jules and I often discuss how our family makes education part of our life-learning.  How could we stand by this message if we bailed on school just because we liked the idea of going hiking or were wishing to pursue a dream? 


Nope, school just has to happen regardless of whatever dreams we wish to make happen for ourselves. Unfortunately, the actions we don't do can send a much louder message than those we do.


Place Based Education vs Hiking

There are many incredible schools and parents out there promoting place based education.  They will often go on ambles and walks taking 45 minute and sometimes hours long breaks to examine pond water, map an area, chart and explore life within a square foot of different ecosystems, read environmental literature, create nature journals, and do all sorts of other amazing learning experiences.  Our trail school is not meant to demean or negatively comment on this version of education.  We just don't hike like that.  For us, that type of education is a walk.  We live in a National Forest, on a wild and scenic river, with less than 5 households in a square mile.  There are more bears, osprey, bobcats, wild turkeys, pileated woodpeckers, deer, eagles, and salmon then there are people.  Our son gets lots of unstructured outdoor time Last-Child-In-the-Woods style, lots of structured natural learning outdoors, and lots of environmental literacy every week by the sheer nature of how our lives work.  The Barracuda will spend 3 hours a day outside sometimes just building forts, playing in the creek, examining rocks to throw in the river, building castles in the sandflat, or learning birds by flight and call.  To us, that is just life.  For this reason, when we hike, we hike.  Hiking has a purpose. It is a point A to point B pursuit where only quick moments are spent idly as we filter water, or nights are spent looking up at the stars while we heat/rehydrate dinner. We often marvel while we walk, ponder as we move, try to find the place where our thoughts and bodies move in a similar rhythm.

For us, hiking is a working meditation about finding the place where your headspace, bodyspace, and heartspace are all flowing together in true spirituality. Hiking is a pilgrimage for us. It is a soul pursuit. By definition that is all consuming and generally a place to become uncomfortable. It is a pushing and searching expedition designed to stretch yourself, not one born out of recreation, idleness, or whimsy.


Truly finding rhythm cannot happen when you take breaks. It requires that you lose yourself and your thoughts in the forward motion.  You find the very center of yourself where the miles and hours melt together, the scenery is beautiful, and you finally understand the word "calm."  As airy-fairy as that sounds, it is the exact same thing as getting so sucked into your book that you are no longer reading words you are merely in the story and the next thing you know 3 hours have gone by.  That can't happen if you are continually being pulled away from the pages to attend to other tasks.  With every break you take, the rhythm of your body stops and you cannot continue the flow.  You are instantly snapped out of the zone.  At that moment, the hiking becomes tiresome.  You are reminded that your feet might be hurting, or your pack needs to be shifted, or you might like a snack, or a thousand other trivial pursuits.  You are stuck back in all the mundane matters in front of you.  More often than not when parents marvel at how The Barracuda (or us for that matter) can like long distance hiking and do so many miles, I find that they are constantly having their kids stop at every little thing or taking scheduled breaks every hour.

We move continuously for hours on end.  From 6 am to just before dusk, there are only two substantial breaks and they last for 20 timed minutes.  In these break times we eat lunch and filter the days worth of water.  Any other breaks last less than 10 minutes, are just a moment to take packs off so we shed layers/use the restroom, and are restricted to less than 2 a day (one morning, one afternoon).

This means subjects need to be discussed or content needs to be limited to extremely lightweight, highly compact, and very portable materials.  Content normally winds up being extremely in depth analysis of a few major ideas rather than broad understanding of lots of small things.


Trail School
All of our reporting is normally done digitally, but it is a bit hard to digitally report when you are in the middle of the Mohave desert or the High Sierra wilderness.  However, attempting to thru-hike the Pacific Crest Trail is one of those things alternative charter schools sort of like to have listed as student accomplishments.  Both the principal and our adviser are quite happy to accommodate as they can.  We will be doing weekly check-ins via the mail and old fashioned letters with phone calls as we can.  Jules has been updated on how to digitally report our monthly reviews and annual testing was completed in March.  Next year's curriculum has been meticulously planned since my normal summer perusing of curriculum is going to be spent pounding out Oregon and Washington.  In the next couple days, we will send in our requisitions and get learning plans all formalized.  The Barracuda and I have spent ample time discussing what he liked about this year and what he would enjoy changing next year.  Together the daily schedule we have come up with seems to build on the last three years of witnessing what has worked and what has failed miserably.

The preplanning of both next year and of the next couple months has really given me a better sense of direction than in previous years.  Focused learning goals mean that very little is slipping through the cracks, but writing them generally enough to work in a broad range of situations means they are versatile.  Scope and Sequence diagramming mean that there is much less gaping and overlap in subjects.  We can really cover more ground in much more efficient ways when we actively structure our content.  The Barracuda likes this way much better than structuring blocks of time for him to generically study "Math" or "School Time."

Subjects


Latin - I've summarized the next 12 Latin lessons in The Barracuda's Jenney's Latin text to involve much less writing and more direct discussion.  A single half-page cheat sheet (in size 7 font) has all the vocabulary, verb endings, case endings, and declinations.  This will travel with us to provide the formal back up necessary when we run into issues.  Every 10 days a new sheet of assignments will appear in the mail drop providing three new grammar concepts, a new set of vocabulary words,  one paragraph of Latin to read/translate, 10 sentences in English to translate.  These exercises can be done in the dirt, and formal work can be done on town days if necessary.   

English - Since our check-ins are now going to be done manually, The Barracuda will have direct practice with copywork, writing, spelling, grammar and editing all rolled into one.  Our evening time has always included headlamps and an hour of reading after dinner followed by individual writing time.  Much of this last year has been directly working on thesis construction and essay outlining.  At this point, The Barracuda can come up with a thesis statement, develop his ideas, and write an essay or personal narrative quite quickly.  Each mail drop will include a pre-addressed, pre-stamped envelop to send off that very day.

World History - Every hike we take, we bring a book for me to read aloud in the evening.  Each book must weigh under 6 ounces, as that is the maximum weight restriction for all luxury items.  Moreover, it must be a great discussion book.  Every book we are bringing on the PCT involves the study of government and the way people choose to organize themselves.  This helps with our world history study for next year.  The books are classics like Utopia by Thomas More, Anthem by Ayn Rand, Lord of the Flies by William Golding, The Art of War by Sun Tzu, etc.  They are mailed to us in each maildrop and then passed on to others or left in hiker boxes along the way.  In this way, we can discuss at length The Barracuda's ideas about people and society making the activity far more than just night time reading.

I can't remember what they were discussing, but this is such a great example of our discussions.  Dad is listening intently, The Barracuda is all into his explanation with his hands going, they have stopped so both parties can clarify the thoughts our on this great ridge line.  It's so very much our life.

 
Science - Science is by far one of the easiest subjects to include.  From ecosystems, to weather and wind patterns, to constellations and telling time using the solar and lunar clocks, there is science everywhere.  Formal science learning, vocabulary, and expository essay writing are covered every other mail drop with Science Detectives A1.  These one and a half page articles include critical thinking questions and the need for direct parenthetical citation for your answers.  They focus on explaining your ideas about things like force and motion, kinetic and potential energy, simple machines, parts of a cell, classification of organisms, that kind of thing.  These encourage connections between the formal learning and what we are seeing all around us.  A page and half isn't much to give great depth, but witnessing science in action is a great way to have detailed conversations as we hike.  Each completed article will be mailed with his check in as a work sample (which are normally given in digital picture format).




Math - This subject is almost as easy to include as science.  The Barracuda will be taking compass bearings regularly.  Compass bearings require large amounts of math, visual skills, and analysis.  We will have a GPS with us and he can use it to check is accuracy, but in general we are working with mental math.  A GPS doesn't mean much if you have to blindly trust it.  The physical math and map work are important to us.  Distance equals rate times time is also a regular equation when we backpack.  Calculating if we are on track or not is a feeling you begin to inherently understand after a few weeks, but it is important to understand what 1 mile per hour feels like versus 3 mph.  It is equally important to be able to extrapolate your pace out into when Jules needs to send us the correct gear or if we will make our mail drops on time.  As we walk we will be doing quick mental math drills and fraction work to hit the ground running when The Barracuda begins Algebra 1/2 in late September.

Learning to correctly use a Monocular and find points to for triangulating your position on a map is one of those skills I'm so glad Jules knows well.  I can explain all the math behind it, but Dad sure teaches the skills of compass bearings much better than I do.  Tag team homeschooling!

Art - Our homeschool group is putting on a fall production of Romeo and Juliet.  The Barracuda gets to memorize his lines as we hike North across the nation.  We will be reading and discussing the iambic pentameter, the use of descriptive language, and in general acting out the play verbally as we hike.

With all this school, it may seem like we would be completely interrupting the supposed flow of our hike.  In many places that might be true, but with over 12 hours of walking a day, it isn't difficult to fit in all the subjects with great discussions while still leaving personal time.  In many ways they overlap.  While discussing our world history book, we will begin discussing our personal beliefs about culture, religion, and society.  While talking about Romeo and Juliet, we can discuss our feelings about people, relationships and what art really is.  While working through compass bearings, we also can express the ways we react to stress, loss, fear, and uncertainty.  We have more incredible discussions when we discuss Latin than any other subject.  Due to language being the ultimate expression of a culture, delving into the foundations of English through Latin has really given a whole new depth to our understanding of how our society relates information and how we relate to our society.

As far as I'm concerned, they are both my babies.  As far as The Barracuda is concerned, we are both his girls.  As far as Guadie is concerned, we are her people.  We've got a pretty good thing going.

The best part about long distance backpacking is that have to become okay with yourself, your companions, and your God if you are left alone with them constantly, without distraction, for days on end.  When we discuss our thoughts together, The Barracuda and I cease to be a mother and son, separated by decades, with established relationships.  We have to rely on each other and intermingle our trust.  (After all, I'm carrying his clothes and the tent, he's carrying our stove and cook pot, and we each carry half the sleeping quilt).  That interdependence means we allow our relationship to become quite blurry.  Often times I will forget that I'm talking to my 7 year old son and find I'm really talking out loud to myself.  Sometimes when I cannot seem to put my finger on what exactly The Barracuda is trying to say, I'll turn to see him staring off star struck as he is rambling.  He's talking to himself far more than he is talking to me.  The schoolwork honestly helps us sort out our thoughts and emotions.  It often greatly facilitates us finding a groove with both ourselves, our hearts, and each other.

 In the end, this is really what we really want "life-long learning" to look like - two people, relating to each other, through their formal learning, out in the world.  I have never really seen that happen in another place.  Homeschooling comes close, but still often times misses the mark.  So regularly in life we create artificial boundaries to keep ourselves in, others out, our relationships defined.  We stage our lives so they can be as comfortable as possible and not come near those blurry edges of the places that scare us.  Those places exist when you wish to challenge paradigms, actualize dreams, and create social justice.  By openly being a person with my son, not a parent, or a school mentor, or some other pre-digested role, we open up a whole other realm with which we can interact.  It becomes a level playing field.  Just two people, out for a hike, having a discussion about classic literature and life.