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?


El Oceano Pacifico. Long time no see.

Once in a big city again, all I really wanted to do was keep walking. Luckily, the weather in California is quite good at accommodating such desires. I took the BART train from Berkeley into the city and then walked and walked and walked through the streets of the city by the bay until I hit Golden Gate Park. I continued the length of the park past the botanical gardens and flower conservatory and the largest Eucalyptus trees I've ever seen and emerged eventually on the sunny shores of the Pacific Ocean. So many months of being at high altitude and now here I stood right at sea level, able to take my shirt off, unzip my pants legs, and just soak up the sun and read a book gifted to me by the first couchsurfer friend I stayed with in Bend.

Brick magic in a San Francisco alleyway.

After two short nights in the Bay area I took a greyhound south and east to Merced and was met by yet another returned Peace Corps Volunteer for a ride into the mountains to her home and place of work (LUCKY): Yosemite National Park. We wasted no time in going on an exploratory hike on an abandoned and very seldom used trail that cuts up from the valley to the right of Yosemite Falls along Indian Canyon. While we didn't make it all the way to the top due to time contraints and a case of the "I don't think that this class IV rock scramble is the trail anymore"s, we did see some pretty neat stuff. This leaf is one of those things.

This view is another.


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