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?


OK photo fans, time for an image DUMP! That's right, fate and the powers that be have cast upon me a plague so that I might descend from my mountain home to procure tinctures and salves from the witch's couldron towards a healing end, AND so that I may bestow images of adventure to your eagerly anticipating computer screen. There is a considerable time lag on many of these photos seeing as these first few were all taken when I was still in the lovely state of Kahlifoahnia. Dig it: Yak and I nosh on freshly caught rainbow trout at our spontaneous camp near Marten lake in the Trinity Alps. Thanks again to wild Delvin, the driver who picked us up and took us into Etna, told some incredibly vibrant stories punctuated by liberal use of the F word, and who gave us one of his fishing rods and two lures. We owe this bounty to you, man!

For those interested, here's a more intimate look at the Banana Slug we ran into on our descent into Seiad Valley.

Western Toad at the cool RV park in Seiad Valley.

The climb out of the valley is supposed to be helacious, but we found it to be nice with a cool air temperature and just a slight smoke haze lingering from the forest fires that had forced so many earlier hikers to skip the Marble Mountain Wilderness.


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