Chronicles of the Wayward Moot

WELCOME TO THE MOOT, oh world-wanderers and word-whisperers. After two years of Peace Corps. After 2,200 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail. What. Comes. Next?


The endangered and rare Arroyo Southwestern Toad. So says the signs that I saw days later. These two were croaking up a storm with me as I treated water on the grueling descent down Fuller Ridge, past the supposedly steepest mountain face in North America, the North Face of Mt San Jacinto.

There's Mt. San Jacinto in the background. In the desert we have to find shade wherever it may be. That concrete cylinder is a water fountain, the first reliable water we encountered in 15 hot miles.

Yet more stupid pine cone tricks. I carried this one down from the mountain 6,000 feet and deposited it by the water fountain with a note. I wonder if anyone else will take it for a trip.

One of the many many many PCT marker posts that we pass along the way. There's the mountain summit almost 9,000 feet above.

A cool group of other hikers. There's the Gestapo or 3 Amigos and Germanator, getting ready to cross Interstate 10.


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