Vultures

Vultures are cool. They are a hiker's companion. Sometimes, they sweep down close enough so you can see their red faces, their necks and wrinkly baldness. Some people demonize them -- so much that the federal government has placed them under the protection of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act -- but I've always liked them. I like the way they fly -- always wobbling, making constant corrections, as if they think they are going to crash.They are squeamish, and startle easily. If you sneak up on one of them from behind, a vulure might projectile-vomit a foul bisque of semi-digested carrion all over you, and then, hours later, go back and re-eat the vomit. (Waste not, want not!) Equipped with stomachs that are 10,000 times more resistant to botulism than the common pigeon, they also carry enzymes that can neutralize anthrax and hog cholera. Say what you will about vultures. They keep our deserts tidy.

(by the way, that great photo is by Robert Bernstein. I found the photo at www.vulturesociety.homestead.com/photos.html)

Eden of the West

I hope you will indulge me in a few more of these color slides from the vault. You should have seen this Monster Camera-- an old-school Pentax K-1,000 with a 35-to-75 m.m. zoom. My good friend, John Murray, had to teach me how to operate this thing. It must have weighed five freaking pounds, and I attached it to my chest using a cross-your-heart contraption that looked like Betty Page bondagewear. Every time I walked down a steep switchback, that big fat camera would pound against the center of my chest like a heart defibrillator. These photos have lost a little something in the translation from slide to digital, but they should still give you some sense of the fogbound Cascades in late summer.

Pacific Northwest stream

I brought a huge, clunky SLR with me on the Pacific Crest Trail. It was kind of a pain, but some of the images are really nice. Here's one from the North Cascades.

Urban hiking and the ghosts of Haight Ashbury

Next week, if I can find a spare hour and a half, I will take that scary "ghost tour'' of the Haight, the one where you walk up and down very steep hills and get to meet the ectoplasmic presences of Hendrix, Joplin and so many others.

If I survive, I will provide a full report right here.

The Easiest Hike in the World?

Every week I get dozens of messages from readers who are out doing extremely adventurous things. Just the other day, I heard from someone who is about to camp 40 miles out in Alaska's deepest backcountry among the grizzlies and eagles, at a lake so remote, it isn't on any map. I hear from people who are in the middle of hiking national scenic trails, running some truly frightening endurance races and doing other crazy things. But every once in a while, it's good to know about "slackpacking'' options that give you access to views and libations with no effort at all. One such hike is out here in California, not far from Muir Woods. All you do is drive up Highway 1, turn right on the Panoramic Highway and park your car at the Pantoll Ranger Station (if you can. Parking there is kind of a pain.) Then you strap on your running shoes (who needs hiking boots for such a short walk?) and head toward the ocean. On a clear day, you will see some astounding views, and the redwoods are beautiful. It's almost all downhill (or flat), and you wind up in lovely -- if somewhat sharky -- Stinson Beach for fish and chips and perhaps a beer or two -- so long as you've brought a designated hiker-driver along with you. Then, when you are finished with your dining, shark-watching and libations, hop on the West Marin Stagecoach ((415) 526-3239), which will take you and your friends right back to Pantoll for dirt cheap. Calories expended? Zero. In fact, this may be the one hike in the world where you get fatter as you walk along. In other words, it's my kind of trail.

(by the way, this is NOT to be confused with the Tourist Club/Beer Woods hike that I wrote about a short while ago.)

You know it's time to replace your disgusting backpack

It's time for me to get real.

My filthy, animal-bitten, smelly backpack has got to go. I think it's beyond rehabilitation at this point. True, it's got a lot of sentimental value. The pack was with me for every step of the Pacific Crest Trail. It almost drowned me in Bear Creek. It weighed me down on a thousand switchbacks. And, most recently, I used the pack as a toboggan to help me escape from the Kentucky backwoods.

Now, sad to say, I'm probably going to get rid of the thing. And I'm not the only one who should think about doing this. Here are a few quick rules of thumb for those of you who simply can't let go of your backpack,even though its time has come...

1. You know it's time to replace your backpack when people you've never met start stuffing five-dollar bills into your hand.

2. You know it's time to replace your backpack when you go to the airport and get pulled out of the line by the "special security check team.'' And they're wearing HazMat suits.

3. You know it's time to replace your backpack when you walk down the streets of Haight Ashbury and no one tries to talk to you. Not even Greenpeace.

4, You know it's time to replace your backpack when the EPA puts it on the "National Priority Superfund'' list -- right between "Falcon Refinery'' and "Humboldt Smelter.''


I will add more to this list when I think of them.

If you have suggestions of your own for this list, please send them along ...

The Cactus Eaters in The San Francisco Chronicle and Elle Magazine

This morning I walked down to the food market in search of non-mealy organic nectarines. Glancing beneath a teetering pile of fruit, I saw a bunch of San Francisco Chronicles, thumbed through one of them, and saw this really good review of The Cactus Eaters in the book section. Also, Elle Magazine named The Cactus Eaters its top readers' pick of the month for August, which means that I get to go on and compete with the top readers' picks for every other month of the year. I'm very happy about the readers' pick, although I kind of get the feeling that the judges would not grant me any decision-making authority if we all went on a long-distance desert survival hike together.

Speaking in San Francisco on Tuesday, July 15, at 12:30...)

At half-past noon, I will speak at Stacey's Bookstore on 581 Market Street in San Francisco. I will read a brief but scary "cliffhanger'' section that takes place in the arid hinterlands of Southern California. After this reading, which is a joint event with Vincent Carrella, author of "Serpent Box,'' you should linger in this great neighborhood, which is close to a lot of great museums and coffee, (and serviceable bagels.)
By the way, thanks to Book Passage for a terrific reading. Before speaking there, we hiked part way up Mount Tam, where I saw a lot of fat, healthy redwoods, ferns, frogs, streams, and some of the largest, scariest dragonflies I've ever seen. (They looked like oversized knitting needles with wings.) About halfway up, I saw an incredible view of the whole SF Bay. When I have a free day, I'll head back up there and do a long trail run up to the summit and back.