On our way to Death Creek we hear marrow-freezing wails, as if someone, or something, were being horribly tortured. We pass with no sign of carnage. On the way up a ridge, we run into Betsy & Brad. We met them way back in the San Gabriels and have been reading their register entries since…

While people fled towns and cities over Memorial Day weekend, Pete & I sat at his mom’s eating like pigs and watching TV. Something in my hip seized up, I could barely walk over the weekend. Now, back on the trail, I’m hoping it goes away. The first miles are not easy, but they are…

I tell myself we are here to walk. We should appreciate all aspects of the trail. Monotonous sections are an opportunity for meditation. But the endless ridge contours of the morning nearly drive us mad. We’re thinking ahead, hoping to reach Kennedy Meadows to make a call for a ride into Ridgecrest by nightfall. We…

At this point we are lookin good. A month of walking goes a long way towards cultivating a look. Doing a few 1,2,3 thousand-foot ridge hops will refine the style, enhancing those small but important details. We are kings wherever we tread. When night falls we reign over 37 empty campsites, cooking mashed potates over…

After squeezing every drop of water we can we from my clogged filter, we are offered a free drink by the two men with assault rifles in the cabin near McIvers Spring. They even sweeten the offer somewhat with scrambled eggs and cheese sandwiches. That’s it for us though, no more filter, no more fuel…

The packs are lighter! A bit of creative navigation leads us to Willow Spring, home of many messy beeves. The water must be treated, so we use an inordinate amount of time and fuel boiling it. Then we’re up on the southernmost Sierra Ridge, sand swallowing our feet, galing winds blowing us all over the…

We sent out a message in a bottle last night – a southbound hiker agreed to relay a message to Pete’s mom when he gets to Mojave. The early morning has ensconced us in our first fog since Laguna Mountain, giving the trail a mysterious, personal feel. We take our chances drinking unfiltered water from…

Walking in the cheerful morning, two baby coyotes spring onto the trail, scaring the shit out of me. At the first springs, Golden Oaks, we find a stash of cigarettes and pornography that someone has left for the benefit others. We enjoy a lighthearted lunch until we realize that we face a serious problem. Both…

Thinking we have conquered trail hunger once and for all, we each buy enough food for seven days of feasting. We can barely pick up our packs as we try to hitch a ride out of Mojave. Climbing slowly, painfully into the piute mountains, we can only laugh at ourselves. The amount of effort required…

We’re camped near a hole in the aqueduct with easy access to its cool, fresh water. Our goal is to escape the Mojave via the trail, and re-enter it by nightfall via Highway 58. By evening we are so desperate and slap-happy that we run almost seven miles through a windfarm to reach the road…