Revisiting the BLT

Three years after and having learned to translate a favourite John Muir saying from Elizabeth, a co-worker, I return to Mount Laguna with John Muir in mind: "Los montanas están llamando y nairo debe ir." Of course I also learned to say chingado and culera with gusto as well but there was no opportunity to be using such words in the mountains, besides, it's Easter Sunday. It was John, whose last name is not Muir, who made everyone within hearing distance guess who said so. 

"I'd rather be in the mountains thinking of God than in the church thinking of the mountains."

Bill Bunker still asks everyone to introduce themselves with a name, place of residence and what everyone does for a living. He set the same parameters three years ago. My friend Kay introduced herself as an Escondido resident and adds that she hikes every day. 

The photo was taken three years three years ago when Kay had just taken to hiking after her sons assured her it was not a  mate-up  she was getting into but meet-up.com. Kay  had since upgraded her hiking level to advanced while I remained as a random mindfucked hiker. 

I tell the group of my generic name and I, too, hike. 

"But not as much as Kay hikes," Bill Bunker added. 

Three years ago I likened Bill Bunker to Gautama Buddha. Gautama Buddha as the tall athletic hiking guru, not Hotei, the Pha Khin Phat. Aside from giving him five stars, I add that he remains to be one of the best hiking gurus in town. Of course  I was also thinking of Hema and Shana. 

Watson always took it upon herself to be the unofficial photographer of meet-up hikes. The photo she took of me goofing into the viewfinder of her iPhone is the sequel of another photo taken three years earlier. 

Sweet Susan Watson who I summitted San Jacinto Peak together about three years ago immortalized herself into my new D3200 the way I have always known her behind on the trail: a mooning pose. 

"Watson is always busy being Watson," I heard or read Hema remarked of Watson  at one time. Watson  crack up jokes  on the trail. 

Bill Bunker joined me for a shot at the Forster Point PCT marker moments after he backtracked the trail to look for two other hikers and myself who got left behind and took a wrong turn. 

Bill's rule was to wait at junctions. I felt like Mikey meowing for anyone to tell him he is not home alone when I called on for anyone at the trail after finding no one was at the junction. Hurley (he looked like a motorcycle rider) told me to go straight. 

"You'll never get lost if you go straight, I learned it in my military service."

I was about to go right following the PCT marker. Hurley, Nancy and I turned around to go back to the junction when a young couple told us that no big group pass them by. Bill Bunker, true to his "no hiker left behind" mantra came back to look for us.

At Foster Point, Tamara, who I have been randomly hiking with for the last three or four years,  looked for the distant peaks with John whose last name is unfortunately not Muir. Or perhaps  fortunately else he would be subsisting on bread while the mountains called him.

The mountains keep calling me, too!