So Whatever Happened to Switter?

And why doesn’t he write to us anymore?

Seven days from tonight, Bear and I will be camping somewhere near Campos, California. Seven days. The night before D-Day, when we invade the trail.

So many people ask me why we are doing this that I finally decided I needed a consistent answer, so instead of replying with something poetic such as “because it’s there,” or something lame such as “I want to find myself,” I find it easier to simply admit that I’m an imbecile. In fact, Bear and I have decided to call ourselves Team Imbecile to save time answering the question. We are even thinking about Team Imbecile merch, at least for ourselves.

(If anyone can come up with a good G or PG rated logo, I will give the winner a standard Switter’s World grand prize of 100 trillion Zimbabwe dollars, sent from and postmarked from somewhere along the Pacific Crest Trail. That’s not an empty promise. My 200th subscriber received that stunning gift. Right, Lorraine? Lorraine?)

Today, I crossed off another big item on the to do list. Each member of Team Imbecile is carrying a satellite locating device from which we will send daily updates on where we are and how far we traveled on the trail that day. We can even receive limited incoming messages when cell service is not available. I activated my Spot locator last night and this afternoon sent out a message to my wife and kids. It worked. Of course it worked, since I didn’t really need it to work, but it will be some comfort to our loved ones who will know where we are on Earth, and who will not need to worry that we have been abducted by aliens from the planet Melmac.

There are a lot of things that still must be done, but the end is in sight, or actually the beginning. Phase 2. Actually do it.

Finally, I didn’t complain much about the process of getting our thru-hiking permit, which allows us to walk all the way to Canada without getting a bunch of individual permits for all the places we need permits to walk across. I have given some thought about why it is necessary to get permits to go to places most of the world doesn’t want to visit, except a few imbeciles like Bear and me, but I will not share those thoughts. I will, however, tell about a glorious benefit I discovered last night from having a permit. In a little town close the trail, somewhere within the first 100 miles, a dear soul who runs a little bakery will give anyone in possession of a valid thru-hike permit a slice of apple pie. That right there makes it all worthwhile.

What a great country! What a great adventure! Here’s to the joy of being an imbecile.