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?


Sunrise from the top of "Bobcat's Postpile," a volcanic rubble pile that Ricola and I camped beneath a few nights ago. I was gonna climb up top to watch the sun set but after filling up on dinner I was ready for sleep, and anyways the view towards the East was spectacular as you can see.

There are our two tents at the foot of the rubble. It was a campsite that I think most hikers would walk right past without a second thought, but it served us well. Water nearby, and a bright sun to shine on us from the East.

Just before hitting Ebbett's Pass I was tromping along in some rain and hail singing Alanis Morissette songs to myself when I rounded a corner and came upon some welcome and well-placed trail magic: A styrofoam ice chest filled with fresh fruit and a cold creek filled with fitness drinks and sodas! It feels funny to use an exclamation point talking about cheapo discoutn sodas, but if it has calories, It's as good as gold out here. Better than gold probably.

A fun note on one of the trail magic buckets. A bear throwing snakes? Yikes.

Another smokey sunrise, this time from a bluff above Raymond Lake. I fed many a hungry moswuito that night since I made the ill-fated decision to coybow camp instead of setting up the tent.


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