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?


Yup, that's my sleeping bag in the foreground. Open skies for the Bobcat! This was near the Indian lightning poles.

The sweet boat launch shop that jerry-rigged me a hot cocoa and coffee mocha before the big climb up and over back to the PCT. Nothing like watching the mountains reflect on the ripples of an alpine lake while sipping a hot cuppa joe.

Now I'm sorry to say that while I did go nearby, I did NOT get a chance to visit Dingleberry Lake. Next time, I'm going straight for the dingleberry I tell ya!

Umm. AHEM. Uhhh. Can anyone out there explain this without some kind of Bigfoot / Yeti reference? I don't think so. These tracks, the bare prints of which were larger than my size 12s, were all over the trail for about two miles at a stretch between 10,000 and 11,000 feet. Who walks barefoot for two miles at that altitude? Bigfoot, that's who. Seriously, look at the size of that print. Jeez!

This kind of view is so common up here I almost committed the crime of leaving this photo out because it looked rather commonplace.


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