Erin joins the walk; Tom gets a trailname; Longlegs turns 23

Dearly beloved,

You'll have to forgive my silence on the blog. I've been making theatre and helping to run a workshop  for 60 artists from around the world and holding baby goats. Here's a picture of that last one:



Meanwhile, big developments from the trail and surrounding areas, in the form of three short stories.

Erin finished her third year of teaching on Friday, packed up her apartment with my parents on Saturday, and joined the guys on the trail on Sunday. They set out from Sonora, California last night. When we talked yesterday, Erin sounded excited and a little nervous about jumping in. Here is an adorable photo of Erin and some of her students at graduation:

Tom has been on the trail now for about three weeks. He, Max, and Michael climbed Mt. Whitney during his first week, a gentle start to the journey:



Tom has also acquired a trailname from an older PCT hiker whose trailname might be offensive if he didn't introduce himself thusly: "I'm Bipolar. That's both a diagnosis and a name." Bipolar noted Tom's enviable hat, which reminded him of another famous hat-wearing nature enthusiast:


So henceforth Tom will no longer be known as "Snack Captain" or "Skittles," which were my suggestions for trail names, but rather holds the proud trailname: Theodore Roosevelt.

Finally, last Wednesday was Michael's 23rd birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY LITTLE BROTHER! He celebrated with a day and a half of rest and, I think, a healthy amount of beer. Michael, I haven't figured out a good birthday surprise for you yet, but you know I'll come up with one sooner or later. In the meantime, he just passed mile 1,000... i.e. over 1/3rd of the way to Canada. Jolly Well Done!


Those are the updates for now. Sometime soon I'll tell you all about Tom's Place and share more photos... but for now, I'm going to go rest. Love love love and happy Monday to you all.

The Journey to Kennedy Meadows

First things first: here is where Michael and his buddy Tom Glass are in the world:

Tom is carrying a little tracking device that sends me messages every few days. You can see that this is significantly more accurate than my previous system of approximation and divination. They are almost to Yosemite! They climbed Mt. Whitney! They made it through the scary icy parts (though significantly less icy this year than in the past; this positive development probably brought to you by Exxon-Mobile!). But that is all I know, since I haven't heard from Michael since I left him on the trail about two weeks ago. He expects to finish this segment by his birthday, this Wednesday, and hopefully I will have word from him then. 

Luckily, this gives me a moment to catch up on the trip to California.

I flew into San Francisco on May 25, found Michael's buddy Tom on a street corner, and threw Tom, my partner Rachel, and her sister Claire into a car on Sunday, May 26, bound for Kennedy Meadows. My brother and sister talked about Kennedy Meadows as if it is a famous, mystical place, and as such, I had done little research. I plugged in my GPS as we pulled onto Telegraph Avenue, typed in Kennedy Meadows, and hoped for the best.

Tom the Snack Captain and Claire the dishonorably discharged Snack First Mate

Well, perhaps I should have planned a bit better. It turns out that Kennedy Meadows is not widely recognized by Google. 8 hours and 4 In N' Out burgers later, we pulled into a mountain rancher refuge called Kennedy Meadows-- population 200. 

On one side of the mountains is Kern river desert lands, joshua trees and burnt-out areas and desert foxes included. On the other side is the Inyo forests, lush and cold.

We drove up to a log general store with a large porch, populated mostly by elders and their dogs. I should interrupt myself to say that Michael's instructions to me had been, "Go to the general store and ask for Longlegs." He seemed so confident that this would work that I hadn't questioned the plan, even when I received a facebook message from him warning me that there was no cell phone service in Kennedy Meadows. Now I was running two hours late and carrying my brother's hiking companion, bear box, and new shoes. I felt nervous as I jogged up the steps to the general store. If Michael wasn't here, I had no idea what I should do.

But there, of course, suddenly, he was: tan and bearded, surrounded by other skinny, dusty, happy-looking people who were wolfing down hamburgers and a Costco sized bag of Doritos. Michael has developed a tri-tone beard -- blonde moustache, reddish brown on his face, and black on his neck. He looks wonderful. 

Beavers and Tiny Little Bears on the PCT

This video goes out to Mr. Dave Coogan, who wins this Social Media Intern's award for the Greatest Chachke Finder.


If you can't view the video on this blog, you can also see it here.

Thank you, Dave Coogan, for being so awesome. 

Anyone seen a tall PCT hiker goin by the name of Longlegs?

OAKLAND, CA-

The social media intern has returned to the grid. For those of you who worried that my silence this week meant that Michael had gone missing on the trail, that I had failed to find him, or that my Social Media Internship has been outsourced due to the high cost of my labor, fear not. Michael is pushing 800 miles by now; I and Tom the Snack Captain and my partner Rachel and her sister Claire did indeed find him, though it was looking a little worrisome for a moment there; and the social media internship continues.

I will have to write a series of blog posts just about Kennedy Meadows and Tom's Place. In the meantime, due to time, here are a few short updates:

1) Michael has grown a tricolor beard. Blonde mustache, red on his face, black around his neck. Rachel calls it a calico beard. It is beautiful to behold.

2) Yesterday, Michael and his buddies Max and Tom climbed Mt. Whitney (Michael's first fourteener). Report forthcoming.

3) Michael has given me permission to publish all of John Henry's letter to me, which I will do in a coming post. I needed to get his blessings first, though I promise that the letter is Safe for Work.

4) I successfully delivered Dave Coogan's brilliant care package; documentation to follow.

More to come!

A Letter from John-Henry

Dearest readers,

I have been somewhat lax in my social media intern duties. I blame the end of a tough teaching artist residency, a performance last weekend, several big projects at my several jobs, and an enormous puppet Statue of Liberty. Mostly good things. But I still needed some time to work on this blog entry.

Jews for Racial and Economic Justice, the People's Puppets, and Kolot Chayeinu celebrate Mother's Day and May Day (photo by Marjorie Dove)

First, the facts as I understand them. When I talked to Michael last weekend, he was about 560 miles into his little walk. He took an afternoon off to watch The Great Gatsby, playing now in theaters near you, which he recommends highly. He and his buddy John-Henry had a lovely time hiking together before John-Henry had to go back to the World that is Not PCT (wnPCT for short). While on the trail, John-Henry wrote me a delightful letter that reminded me that Whitman College either attracts good people or turns them into good ones (or possibly both).

Here is what John-Henry tells me. Apparently among through-hikers and the communities that love them, donning surnames such as Longlegs or Beef is kind of par for the course. J-H describes the hiking community as a friendly if somewhat liberally-monikered crew:

It's about 1:00 at a picnic table outside the Big Bear Lake Hostel, where we have just passed an exuberant 24ish hours. The hostel is commanded, seriously, by Sarge (not sir), an ex-marine gunnery sergeant   [...] with a penchant for Jameson and telling war stories to crustily be-blistered hikers. We piled into town yesterday via Michael and I's first American hitchhike experiences, along with a bunch of new friends from the trail. Since Michael skipped a few days for the kick off, he's had to meet a whole new cadre of hikers. This batch includes Moonshadow and Firedrill (newly nicknamed this morning after his alarm went off 5 separate times in our dorm room waking everybody but himself), a pair of cousins hiking to raise money for mental illness; Yazzi, who is videotaping everything and appears to be a veteran of no small number if LSD trips; Argentina, a self described weirdo, with a striking bowl cut, on his 8th PCT trip; Astrid and Ister, two quite beautiful British girls (at first I liked the blonde one and Michael liked the one with the black hair, but we have since switched) who we have spent quite a lot if time talking to without actually managing to understand very much; "the Ashland boys," who in my experience are either drunk and happy, or sober and not at all happy; and Sky Eyes [...]

John-Henry goes on to describe his experience of hiking with Michael on the PCT. I decided there was really only one way to do his narrative justice. (See brilliant artwork below.) A caveat first, for John-Henry: J-H (with one h, if abbreviated thusly), as you know, I am pretty sure we have never met. I could not find you on my Facebook mobile app. So I googled "John-henry whitman college," and this was my first hit:

If that's not you but is instead some other Whitman College John-Henry, I do apologize. You will have to imagine that claymation J-H (still only one h) looks more like you.

Love

Megan

Ps. Next weekend I am going to go find Michael on the trail as part of a vacation to Yosemite! Will I recognize him under all his body hair? Will he be at the general store at the appointed hour? Tune in next week to find out.