[pct-l] Smoking on the trail

[Jeffrey Olson]

I love the moralism that comes through sometimes.  People reveal 
themselves.  Believe me, when you get out on the trail you're not going 
to give a sh** what other people do or don't do.  You just speed up, 
walk by, slow down, take a zero, take a nap, or ?  It's your hike.

One of my strongest memories of a hike of the JMT in 1993 was walking up 
the 800' ridge behind the uppermost Evolution Lake.  I'd started the 
morning at the bridge over the San Joaquin and it was middle afternoon 
and I was in awe.  So beautiful.

Lo and behold, this guy comes traipsing down, and I mean "traipsing."  
He had a counter-rhythm going with himself as he walked.  It was almost 
jerky, but because of the multiple rhythms, his walk was actually 
graceful.  He was the definition of "loose!"

He'd obviously been smoking because all he could do was utter "Wow!" and 
"Isn't this AWESOME" with his voice actually speaking the word in caps.  
I laughed and we traded stories - the crossing was only knee deep - the 
top of the ridge and the lake below the Muir Hut only a half hour away.

He asked if I wanted to smoke some bud, and had been thinking as we 
talked that if he offered, I would.  I hadn't smoked pot in the 
wilderness in years and years, and it had been in my mid-20s that I'd 
smoked above timberline.  We finished half a joint and stood around 
marvelling.  Neither of us were talkative after that, and we went our 
ways with a strong  handclasp and deep look into each other's bloodshot 
eyes.  Brotherhood...

The hike to the Muir hut was just surreal.  I was in good shape so 
didn't have to cope with breathing hard.  I was breathing in perfect 
rhythm with my walking and it just went on and on.  I felt like one of 
those sprinting animals filmed by National Geographic.  My feet strode 
and my head was perfectly level as I walked up and down, around and 
over.  I was a hiking cheetah, so in touch within my world.

A couple days later I met a packer riding in front of two guys dressed 
up in full cowboy regalia.  The packer smiled wearily and said they were 
Germans who wanted to experience the wild wild west. So they flew in 
from Germany, found a bunch of pot, put on their chaps and leater vests, 
boots and ten gallon Stetsons and whooped their way down the trail on 
the backs of old gray mares, smoking joints.  The packer just shook his 
head as I laughed and the two guys road up.  Funny...

Jeffrey Olson
Rapid City, SD