The Last Englishman: A Thru-Hiking Adventure on the Pacific Crest Trail (Outdoor Adventure Book 3) by Mr Keith Foskett

Author:Mr Keith Foskett
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2014-02-12T21:00:00+00:00

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Hawkeye had already left as Brains and I climbed from the river the following morning. The 3,500-foot ascent seemed surprisingly easy; we both steamed up it like raging locomotives. Leaves from the previous autumn still carpeted the trail, cushioning our feet, and poison ivy reached out from the undergrowth.

Poison ivy is not to be taken lightly. Although not life-threatening, even the slightest brush against a leaf will set the plant oil on an all-out war with your skin. The plant alkaloid urushiol causes severe itching, inflammation, colourless bumps and blistering in four out of five people who come into contact with it. I learnt from other hikers how to recognise the plant, as it is not found in my native British Isles.

The plant only grows to perhaps a couple of feet on average, but was commonplace along the trail. ‘The Poison Oak Dance’, as I heard several others refer to it, was the name given to the contortions one had to perform to avoid contact. I was perhaps complacent at times, but I remained unscathed. Maybe I was one of the lucky individuals who had some resistance to the effects of the plant. Hiking at night was a little precarious; my head torch picked out the small plants and shiny leaves, and I had to exercise a tad more caution.

The air cooled as we rose, affording a welcome respite from a sweaty night at the river. Stunted oak trees occasionally allowed shafts of sunlight through, which patterned the ground. Brains surged ahead and I let him go. An hour later I saw another hiker approaching. We both stopped and chatted whilst resting.

“I’m about a month behind where I should be at this stage,” I said to a solo SoBo called Peacemaker.

“No,” he replied with a wry smile and a glint in his eye. “You’re exactly where you should be.”

Peacemaker looked like a lost hippie. I had watched him climbing the hill that I was working my way down. He strolled up calmly, taking his time. Stopping in the middle of the trail usually suggested that someone wanted a chat; if not, they would generally keep up the pace and step to one side to let you pass. If someone removed their backpack it meant they had decided to take a break, and this was something of an open invitation to the other to do the same. I sat and talked with Peacemaker for about ten minutes, glad to be resting and eating. He was hiking a stage of the PCT, though he said that if he found it enjoyable, he may keep going further. The expression on his face was of someone completely at ease with himself. As I left him, his words reverberated in my mind: “You are exactly where you’re supposed to be, Fozzie.”

It made me feel happy and secure. Regardless of my limited progress, hearing those words validated my position and reminded me the PCT was not a race.

I passed Brains who was taking a break.

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