Hiking Partners
I have been hiking with K-too, Crow, and Jenny. We have not come up with a name for our group yet or for Jenny. I am leaning towards the name Hair Bear Bunch, but we are not really hairry enough. I hate writing about people because I dont want to offend people.
Check out the journals for Crow and Jenny. That should tell you enough about them. K-too is a white male about fifty from New England.
Sunday, May 30, 2004
Hiking Partners
I have been hiking with K-too, Crow, and Jenny. We have not come up with a name for our group yet or for Jenny. I am leaning towards the name Hair Bear Bunch, but we are not really hairry enough. I hate writing about people because I dont want to offend people.
Check out the journals for Crow and Jenny. That should tell you enough about them. K-too is a white male about fifty from New England.
I have been hiking with K-too, Crow, and Jenny. We have not come up with a name for our group yet or for Jenny. I am leaning towards the name Hair Bear Bunch, but we are not really hairry enough. I hate writing about people because I dont want to offend people.
Check out the journals for Crow and Jenny. That should tell you enough about them. K-too is a white male about fifty from New England.
Hollywood
I am in hollywood. I am visiting with Andy and Missy, friends of K-too's. We needed to run errands and his friend was kind enough to help us out. Last night one of thier friends Chris came over for dinner. He is working on a article for the LA Times about the PCT. I will post a link when it comes out.
I am in hollywood. I am visiting with Andy and Missy, friends of K-too's. We needed to run errands and his friend was kind enough to help us out. Last night one of thier friends Chris came over for dinner. He is working on a article for the LA Times about the PCT. I will post a link when it comes out.
Saturday, May 15, 2004
Fifteen minutes of fame
Iwas interviewed by Rythem of zimwalk.org. He asked about the pie vault and my snack bag. Go take a look at the site it is a worthy cause. Documentary will be out next year.
Iwas interviewed by Rythem of zimwalk.org. He asked about the pie vault and my snack bag. Go take a look at the site it is a worthy cause. Documentary will be out next year.
Hiker Hugs
I got my first hiker hug in Warner Springs, it was not pretty but beautiful in it's own way. Imagine if you will, two large men wet from persperation, in clothes that have not been washed in days with smells from body parts best left unmentioned hugging. OK it is not for everyone but it is part of the community.
I got my first hiker hug in Warner Springs, it was not pretty but beautiful in it's own way. Imagine if you will, two large men wet from persperation, in clothes that have not been washed in days with smells from body parts best left unmentioned hugging. OK it is not for everyone but it is part of the community.
Sunday, May 02, 2004
Cori's Poem
Heart Tastes
A cotton candy machine spins a sweet wind.
The pink sugar threads bunch together and wait
For the vendor to sell them to a sour child.
A girl who thought she would win first prize,
A girl who has learned the spicy taste of second.
The tunnel in the park is made of peppered black stone.
Sweet lovers pass under and smile inside,
Their kisses echo and so whatever felt sour
An hour ago fades as they pass the girl,
Happy with candy, they feel pink.
Beyond the tunnel, the bicyclists zoom past, doing laps,
Around this park, this candy-land, their bodies are sugared
With human spices, salt and sweat. They look at watches,
They time their lives by heart paces, curving the track,
The sweet lovers stroll past, they are the heart tasters.
Watching from the window that overlooks the park,
The old man is surrounded by art, the famous museum,
But the palette of the paintings pale in contrast to the crowd.
On this sweet spring day, the beauty of still life seems over-spiced,
Next to this real life, he wonders,
How he got stuck.
Heart Tastes
A cotton candy machine spins a sweet wind.
The pink sugar threads bunch together and wait
For the vendor to sell them to a sour child.
A girl who thought she would win first prize,
A girl who has learned the spicy taste of second.
The tunnel in the park is made of peppered black stone.
Sweet lovers pass under and smile inside,
Their kisses echo and so whatever felt sour
An hour ago fades as they pass the girl,
Happy with candy, they feel pink.
Beyond the tunnel, the bicyclists zoom past, doing laps,
Around this park, this candy-land, their bodies are sugared
With human spices, salt and sweat. They look at watches,
They time their lives by heart paces, curving the track,
The sweet lovers stroll past, they are the heart tasters.
Watching from the window that overlooks the park,
The old man is surrounded by art, the famous museum,
But the palette of the paintings pale in contrast to the crowd.
On this sweet spring day, the beauty of still life seems over-spiced,
Next to this real life, he wonders,
How he got stuck.
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