Walking with a Norwegian.

After some uncomfortable temperatures of late, the PCT made life a little more bearable in the heat department and has cooled over the past few days. You never get anything for nothing, so the consequence of this has been some incredibly strong winds. I left 'Hiker-Town', a small hostel in the middle of nowhere on 10th June and walked with the Stumbling Norwegian.

'Stumbling' is not an accurate description. In fact, it's about as far as you can  get from the truth. In his mid thirties, he is tall, I guess 6 feet plus and is already a PCT veteran having completed a thru-hike only last year. His lanky frame and long legs appear to move effortlessly over any terrain, taking strides so long that I admit to being a little jealous. He probably covers 20% more ground in one step than I do. A beard grows perhaps 8" long from his chin, reaching his upper chest. He strokes it occasionally and comments that it needs washing or combing. He wears a Seattle Sounders football shirt with 'Ljunberg' blazoned across the back. The Stumbling Norwegian is a long way from 'conventional'.

We hit the Los Angeles Aqueduct after 30 minutes or so. This huge, man made construction carries water from the nearby mountains to supply a fair proportion of the cities water supply. It is capped with concrete and looks like a normal road. We followed it as it snaked along, occasionally listening to the millions of gallons of water gush beneath us from inspection points. The Norwegian showed me how to get water, as he had done last year by finding a small hole in the concrete. He fitted an extension to the plastic tube on his filter and dangled if through the hole. Sure enough, as he pumped and I held the bottle, a steady stream of prime mountain water dribble through.

A snake, perhaps 5 feet long surprised both of us as they often do. Lost in day dreams, we often do not see them until we are about to step right on them. It stretched lazily on the trail, sunning itself and appeared docile, perhaps even friendly. My snake phobia diminished even more as I stroked it's tail before it moved off into the undergrowth.

We reached Cottonwood Bridge late afternoon, about 7 miles short of our target for the day. I submerged my sore feet in the cold, grey water and shivered as the aches started to fade. We introduced ourselves to Hannah and Matt and were soon joined by another new face, Reckless. Each day I am constantly surprised by more new characters. I ate from dwindling rations. A dry, tasteless rice dish was not helped by a couple of pale and insipid hot dogs. The closer a hiker gets to a town re-supply, the more uninspiring and disappointing their dwindling food bag becomes.

We struggle up and carried on to kill off the last few miles. An optimistic schedule of 2 hours was soon being re-calculated as the trail started to rise to meet our destination of Tylerhorse Canyon. Then, strong winds increased and we struggled against side gusts. We squinted as sand stung our faces and battled sometimes to even move forward. At one point the Norwegian was blown off the trail and had to execute a jump over a low bush to remain upright.

Mountains to our left soon turned black as the sun moved below them. The orange sky faded over our heads into blue as sculptured, twisted cloud formations had us gasping at their beauty.

At 9.00pm we made it to the canyon bottom where Hannah and Matt were struggling to cook a meal as the elements raged around them. The wind was still gusting but had been humbled a little by the high rocks sheltering us. To tired to eat or to battle erecting my tent in the wind, I lay out my sleeping pad and bag, washed my feet in the creek, and climbed into bed. I was soon warm and watched in awe as stars began to intensify and multiply above me. I felt like a spectator at a massive outdoor light show.