At mile 1521.7
It was rather hot last night. I was rather pissed off this morning. Why? There's silver glitter on my tent? No, what is that? Is that a hole? Are they holes? THEY ARE HOLES! THERE'S LIKE FIFTY OF THEM! ALL OVER MY TARPTENT!! (this means if it rains heavily, I get wet) What did that? Wait, ants? There's ants all over. There's ants in here! THERE'S ANTS AROUND THE HOLES!
ANTS ARE EATING MY TENT.
!!!!11!111!!!!1!!!!!1!!!
Honestly, it's the only explanation that makes sense. No fires, no acid rain, no knife throwing, no idea. Now I need to buy a new shelter. Son of. There are at least fifty small (1mm diameter) holes all over my tent. This one's for you Dunning. Or Unsolved Mysteries. Or the CIA. So I walked all furiously down to the Interstate. Two choices, hitch on the Interstate (illegal) or walk four miles along the train tracks up to Dunsmuir (no damn way). So I try, knowing it's not going to work, to thumb down a ride. I guess Highway Patrol got a call for a "Pedestrian on Interstate", because after about a quarter hour a patrol car comes down the off-ramp, up the on-ramp, straight at me.
"You just off the trail?"
"Yeah"
"Where you going?"
"Dunsmuir"
"I'll take you, don't want you getting hurt up here"
Don't hitch on the Interstate kids. Big thanks to the Officer for being cool with everything, guess I'm not the first. And I have the foreigner card up my sleeve. Dunsmuir was pretty dead, got a bus to Mt Shasta City, which is very nice. Rite Aid had 2GB SD cards for $50. The assistant suggested I try Radio Shack, where I got two for $20. Problem solved sort of. Shasta is really nice, but everyone assumes I am homeless (at least, that's my own assumption...). Seriously, my beard needs to go, it looks pretty stupid. Best second hand bookstore of all history, shame I don't want to carry 10kg of paper. The bus ride back to Dunsmuir was full of creepy folk, a manlady, meth addicts, and a mumbly sarcastic dude desperate for attention. Big news story of the day was a Transgender mayor from a town in Oregon being criticised for dressing provocatively. I know. I don't even know where to start. So I won't. But, please, do with it what you wish. Got a hitch back to the trail head super easy. Hot 3800ft climb, run out of water (again? How are you 1500 in man?), found a nice little campsite. Castle Crags are completely, amazingly, massively beautiful.
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