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?


Back to the pictures! Here's the Root Cellar at Drakesbad, built in the 1930's I was told. Here's where Ed keeps some fruits and wines and beers and brews and other things. It's like a Hobbit hole for an alcoholic Middle-Earthling.

Soaking in the hot springs pool on one of our last nights there was a lightning storm giving us a fireworks show in the distance. This is my attempt to capture it on digital film... Won't show up well unless your monitor is in good shape.

I'd bought some tea candles to add a nice mood to the already awesome hot pool. The ghost though? He wasn't invited.

I bet almost none of my fellow PCT-ers hit up this place, called (no joke) Bumpass Hell after a man named Bumpass who was exploring the area and broke through the brittle surface into boiling water or mud, leading to the removal of his leg to save his life. Getting here involved a 6 or 7 mile hike one way out from Drakesbad. Since I was only "slack packing" i.e. not carrying my normal heavy pack weight, I decided to compensate by carrying a whale with me. That had to have been one of the most absurd things many of the people hiking that day had ever seen.

Until I hopped over the "Don't Go Pass This Sign" barrier and went for a splash in a sea-green mineral pool. Now they have seen everything.


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