The Letter Nine

coming soon!

please comment if you'd be interested in this story. I'd like to spend some extra time, thinking about this trip before I write it.  

 Thanks! 

Pacific Crest Trail: the vortex, and a new word. Oh yeah...and people are actually reading this shit.

Well, where do I began? I hiked up to Mt Balden Powell with 15 pounds of wine. The wine was paid for by 4 "sponsors" in Wrightwood. I was broke and felt the need to summit with some wine so I could celebrate once I was at the peak. I had tried to  convince other hikers to pitch in on the wine by saying I'd carry the extra 15 pounds up to the fucken peak. I also forced...semi-forced them to read my latest post. Only because the trail angel, oh shit! Have I explained what Trail angels are yet? Well, I'll get to that shit later. I'm drunk AF, Im drunk as fuck right. Now.  Anyways, the trail angel, which is a mmmmm, is a person or family that takes in hikers. 9 times out of 10 they are religious, 8/10 they are Christian. Into the Jesus, and so on. I myself am not into the Jesus. I'd go as far as saying I'm an agnostic.  Because that's shit is safe and lets be real...there are so many religions. I kinda get sick of the radicals fighting over what's "real", and what's the "true" one. So anyways this trail angel told me he's been reading my blog. Oh fick, (people actually read this shit) my last post was about jerking off. So I was a bit embarrassed  Also, their dog got into my Med kit. Mama Miss (not her real name) mentioned she thinks the dog got into my mayonnaise packet. I didn't have any mayonnaise packets, but I was missing a condom. I'm writing this. Now drunk as fuck off cheap box wine looking  at a bloody fucken tampon some chick thru out on the side of a bath room in middle of nowhere. What am I doing? So where was I? Oh yeah, the dog are one of my condoms.

I've manage to convince myself that I should stay here, in this parking lot and just "yellow blaze" to Agua Dulce. If you don't know what yellow blazing is then read my previous blog. Fucken stupid. I write better drunk then talk to text.  Well, maybe just a tad bit. I need to write at least One post a week. Full of swanky fucking words, masturbation and fart jokes.  That'd be pretty cool. Especially if I could make some extra cash for this trip. Working in every town has given me a new, and much different PCT experience. But it still sucks being broke. Especially when I get into town. I absolutely crave everything thing I miss while on the trail, but can't afford anything.  I've been thinking about drawing up, and slanging  some fucken (yes my favorite word) postcards to hikers.  I've done the math and can make it work. 5 buckaroos, hand drawn and pre-posted.

I really want to hop a freight train again. I need to figure the logistics first. I do not believe there is a term yet for hopping freights. So I'm going to create one "Fre-blazen"

Is it cheating if I yellow blaze or fre blaze? I don't fucken care. This isn't a race or a contest. The PCT is a fucken adventure. It's my adventure. So go fuck your self ( always about the masturbation). The first and last time, the only time I've ever fre-blazed was when I was 20. I hitchhiked from San Diego to Connecticut because I was in love with a girl and her sister. That's a whole nother story.

The vortex is when you get stuck in town, the longer you're there the harder it is to leave.

My knee has been bugging me for awhile. Usually towards the end of the day or while climbing down. So I decided to hitch from Mt Balden-Powell to Pasadena. I stayed with an old friend in Pasadena and took the metro to LA to meet up with my mom, and oldest sis. I'm planning on hitting up some thrift shops for a knee brace. Then getting a ride into Agua Dulce. It's 250 miles from there to Kennedy Meadows. I'd like to get there by Father's Day then head into the Sierra by Solstice.

In downtown LA.

Here I'm just a bum. The term "hiker trash" does not apply to me. I mix in best with the hoards of homeless and less fortunate. Here I am just "trash" without the hiker attached. People try their best not to stare, and avoid me at all cost when I try for their attention for directions, or whatever else, because of the fear that I may ask for money. Maybe it's a hustle they know to well their trying to avoid. I don't know.

donate to this bum or buy a post card at theletternine.com

Money, trail slang, and jerking off.

No seriously, jerking off. That, and shiting are to common talked about trail subjects. I was talking to a few guys who offer "shakedowns" a shakedown is when they go through all the shit in your pack and help you lose weight. Anyways they told me the two most common things people send home from the shit in their bags are dildos, and machetes. That's right...dildos. And not all are modest in size. I wonder how hikers keep them clean on trail? Maybe a little hand sani followed by up and down stroking motions, hahaha. There I go again with the jerking off. The other day I head of a word called "pink blazing" that's when a dude slows down, or speeds up to keep pace with a women he wants to bone. D-Blazing is the opposite, but sounds like a basketball term used by the Portland Trail Blazer fans. "Brown Blazen is when a hiker holds his shit until they get to a toilet. Some go 2-3 days holding their shit. Not kidding, really, they suck in their ass and hold poo in until they get to a toilet. "Yellow Blazen" is when you hitch hike, because of the yellow lines that divide the road. "Hiker Trash" is us, hikers, and we call each other that. We all pretty much smell and look like trash. A "Zero" is when we do zero miles for a day, and a "Nero" is when we only do a few. Under 10, but more then 5...I think? "SoBO is south bound hikers, and NoBo is north bound. As of right now I am yellow blazen to the nearest Walmart to get some cash, because I have no fucking money. Oh yeah, and "gGreen Blazing" is when you're looking for bud.

I've been pretty down all day. It sucks being broke, and on a budget. It sucks seeing everyone eat hot food, and do fun shit when they get into town. Every thing in town is 1000 times better on the hike then in normal life; shiting, eating hot food, sex (I wouldn't know), beds, showers, pools, showers, and oh yeah...jerking off (I know, wink, wink). Well I should get back to stick my thumb out for this hitch.

UPDATE

Let's see how well this works done

Fuck spent a long time since I've blog have any sort Estevan at least shit to the five weeks so I don't know. I've made a lot of fun people so far off the trail on the trail. Been working in town, 4 trillion jewels no just kidding. I've been on trail now for five weeks and I'm only at mile 275 at this rate I'm probably going to have to skip 20 miles on the towns that I have daywork just to keep pace. So much as happened I don't really know where to begin as far as trying to keep up on my blogging of my PCT adventure. I think what I need to do is spend 15 minutes every night before go to bed and just write shit down. Boy I've been super fucking horny Montreal specially last few days it's weirde can't really jerk off choke the chicken in the woods you can but I don't know I hands are fucking dirty and tired too tired to jerk off fuck never thought I'd ever say that. But it's fucking true. I have to imagine the jerking off in the woods is quite liberating probably even better than fucking shit in the woods. And definitely something I'm going to have to try out soon maybe tonight. I can go on anon about how horny I've been laughter. I've met so many people who have their feet destroyed or have shinsplints where the muscle starts pulling away from your bone or foot problems maybe they just went to hard to soon. I think my pace is been a pretty good pace although I am not too far along but I will have to pick it up in very soon. Me and two other hikers completely remodeled bathroom for some challenges in big bear, Mountain Mama and Papa Smurf. We totally hook them up. DK started the whole thing by putting in a ceiling fan, I then went in the bathroom and noticed that rot in the drywall on the ceiling so I so I suggested we tear out the drywall and replace it and, all in all we replace the drywall added two light fixtures a ceiling fan added textured walls the hide the years of shit that had been painted on the walls fix the leak fix the toilet painted and cleaned. I have been sitting in A red ant farm in their crawling all over me this fucking sucks talk to you later.

I made a ultralight backpack and pillow from boxed wine bag. Only 10 fucking dollars, and comes with complementary wine. I packed about 16 ounces of wine out from big bear city and I'm planning on drinking it tomorrow night when I get to the Hot Springs. Will probably take 20+ miles tomorrow to get there. I started today late around 1030 or 11. I hate starting late I think I've done about 2 miles in two hours and now I'm taking a siesta.

Wow, auto correct and voice type is total shit. Hope it you all can understand it.

Where do I start. I feel like I've been hiking for days on end. I'm already used to my everyday routine of walking up by five and leaving by six. 10 before 10 is the saying. It means hike 10 miles before 10am. I usually siesta during the hottest part of the day, then hike another 5 miles. I am easing my body into the amount of miles I hike per day; 8-10, then 10-12, and now 12-15. Once I've hiked 200 miles I'll turn it up to 15-18, and so on.

I've met the most incredible people on the trail. The trail is strange, because you'll meet someone, hike with them off and on for a day or two, then won't see them again for days if ever. It always feels great when I see someone I haves seen on trail in awhile. Sometimes I'll peek at the hiker books, and see who logged in and when.  The sign in books are all over Trail. Nothing to official. Trail angels will have a book, restaurants will have a book. Sometimes you'll find a book in a box in the middle of nowhere.

Pacific Crest Trail : first week

I got into San Diego early on the 16th. My buddy Nate picked me up I crashed at his pad with him and his daughter. We had tacos and whisky for dinner. The next morning he gave me a ride to the trail head.

Nate and his daughter Marley hiked with me for the first 5 miles and camped out next to an oasis. This winter has been very wet for all of the west coast. I lost my stupid $15 bandana in the first 2 miles. Brand fucken new. Who pays $15 for a bandana. Stupid does!

After asking every hiker who passed me they'd seen for 2 days I finally ran into one that picked it up.

I saw a 5 foot rattlesnake, coiled up a foot in the air in struck mode, rattling like a screaming 3 year old hungry for mommies tit.

I met the nicest lady in social media. She's a trail angel named Fruitbowl. I spent the entire weekend helping out, her, her daughter and their friend. Although I'd like to say they helped me the most.

After they left I head back out to the trail. Found a swimming hole and dove right in with all my dirty, shity, filthy clothes. Damn did that feel good.

I've made it to Mt Laguna. U have seen the absolute worst blisters on people's toes and feet. This one Asian dude looked like he had pastrami on his heels. People come limping into camp with busted ankles and swollen knees. I'm still just taking it easy. I'm not in a fucken race.

I washed dishes and help set up the Pine cafe with another hiker who's wife busted her knee open while falling on a rock. They've been there for 2 weeks. We work in exchange for food.

This has been of the best weeks of my lifeNext stop, Warner springs.

When I was a kid I had a reoccurring dream. I would be at the tip of a snow covered mountain top.  my watch, a clock, tick tock, and I drop. I fall. I wake up on a beach with everyone I love surrounding me. A fire, and a rising tide. Again, and again. Tic-toc. 

I'm not going to lie. This reoccurring dream I had as a kid has been on my mind more now then when I had them. My mom, who knows, and remembers these dreams is worried. 

In the past days leading up to tomorrow I've experienced odd deja-vu. While the rational side of me makes sense of this by assuming it's all in my head, the dreamer in me wonders if it isn't. I don't know. All in all, the ending of my dream does not sound all that bad. If this is my fate then I am not afraid. Then again I don't believe in fate. But Im fucking certain that I'd rather die on an adventure living my life, then be killed on my way to a day job I fucken hate.  

SToday I was waiting across the street from the Amtrak station in Sacramento. I was sitting on a brick ledge in front of an empty building. My pack against a wall, I smoked a rolled cigarette. Passers-by tried their hardest not to stare, some didn't try hard enough. This was all to familiar to me. Once upon a time. How is this time different? An older white lady, dressed in yesterday's thrift store, monthly, yellow tag sale attire walks passed me, she smiles, she's maybe in her 50's. She walks another 10 steps before she turns around and walks back. She hands me a day old muffin, tells me she got it from work. I thanked her and ripped a piece of the chocolate muffin off with my fingers and put it in my mouth. It didn't taste a day old. I wanted to tell her about my trip, but I didn't feel like it was all that important. What I'm doing isn't important. Good for me right?I don't know. 

Just boarded my train, and I'm on my way to San Diego, Ca. Will be at the southern terminus of the PCT in 3 days. I've packed and re-packed my bag several times. I tried being a gram nerd (eat your poo, it's UL) but decided I really, really like random shit like...toilet paper. currently my base weight (your pack minus food and water) is at 14lbs. To be honest with myself I am not in the best shape. Beer has been good to me, and working for a brewery for a year did a number on 'me belly. I just plan on taking shit easy, I'm not in a race. I'm on an adventure that mixes punishment with pleasure...and I've been a bad, bad boy and need to be punished...who's been a bad, bad...oh whoops, got carried away there. What was I saying? Oh yeah, pain, and pleasure. I'm looking forward to it. I may have even found some day labor in the first few towns from some very kind people called trail angels. It's actually a thing. Can totally see my self becoming one of these in the future. 

Buy a custom haiku for $5. Or a hand painted postcard for $10. Proceeds we'll help support my beer drinking habit while on the PCT.  

 http://theletternine.com/store/

Well not really. I'm all good with gear and shoes, which I bought ahead of time, even though I know I'm not supposed to. And I'm set with food, and will have it sent along the way. Other then that I am broke. No money to spend in towns on hot foods, hotels, and beer, lots of beer!! Seriously what will I do without beer? So for a limited, not so limited time. I will be writing filthy fucking, hiker haiku. For low low price of five buckaroos. You can request a "special" word. This way you know I'm not a dirty little crook sending peep holes the same haiku while I'm on the trail jerking off. I will also be offering up some hand drawn postcards for the super high price of $10 per card. 

Ive also thought about seeing if I can pick up some day labor. You can "cash me outsigh" in front of the local hardware store. No but seriously, message me if you have some day work available for this guy along the PCT. 

 Here is a link to my haiku/postcard store   

A filthy, foul mouthed hiker haiku for you or someone you wanna fuck. . Choose a "special" word to have it customized to fit your filthy fucken mind. All money goes towards my PCT 2017 hike. No fucken refunds!

Have a nice day!

Holy fuck. Putting together a months worth of food has been a bitch. It's so much easier putting together a weeks worth of food. Less hassles, more tassels!  I'm not really sure what that means?