A Tribute to Astro

 

Last year after we had completed our John Muir Trail hike, we were planning a week in August in WA to help my husband's brother work on their mom's house.  Just before we were to leave, the brother called to let us know that the family did not really want help with the house, thank you very much, and we did not have to come. We could have gone anyway, visited with the brother and other relatives, generally taken it easy and enjoyed a vacation trip to Washington, but that is just not our style.  Instead, we considered ourselves excused from family duty, planned out a few meals, threw our backpacks in the car and headed north.  We still had section P to finish, and a week just might do.  We drove to Seiad Valley, made arrangements to leave the RV parked at the RV Park, disconnected the Saturn we had in tow, drove to Scott Mountain Summit and started our hike.  Of course we picked up a hiker (named Bouncer) on the way and brought him to the trail head with us. 

 

The trip was nice, mostly uneventful, filled with the usual highlights of a hike: gorgeous scenery, peaceful wilderness, togetherness, wild berries, clear cool water and friendly hikers.  There were two hikers of significance that I want to talk about here; Astro and List’ner.  We met Astro on trail one afternoon, just briefly, and then saw him again as we sat waiting at Etna summit for a ride to town. I was a bit (overly) concerned about a little garden shovel I brought along to dig the holes for my daily duties.  I was quite pleased with the sturdy little shovel and glad that I had something besides a rock or a stick with which to dig my holes because I do not wear sturdy boots.  Alas, the top-heavy shovel must have toppled out of my pack’s pocket at one point, and was now nowhere to be found.  I was asking all the hikers if they had seen it, and finally found one who replied positively.  Yes, he had seen it, but he had not picked it up because it was too heavy, and obviously not something a thru hiker would carry.  As we sat, endlessly waiting in the heat for a hitch to town, Astro sympathized with me, saying that it was hard to lose an important piece of equipment.

 

Tall, tan, lanky and scruffy, the kind of kid you expect to see on the trail, Astro did not hang out with the other kids his age.  He sat in the sun by himself, joyfully soaking up the rays as the others talked about getting to town and into the pub.  After about two and a half hours of waiting, finally two cars pulled in, one after the other, and all six of us got rides to town.  My husband and I checked in at the Hiker Hut, then rode bikes to a dinner place in town. When we returned there was my new friend Astro, sorting out the grub from his resupply box.  We chatted a little and I told him I was impressed with his healthy food choices.  He smiled and we had a brief conversation about trail nutrition and the challenges of a vegetarian diet in getting enough protein to maintain the high level of activity necessary for a thru hike.  Later, as I was sitting on the edge of a bunk, nursing my poor blistered feet,  Astro agreed with me that blisters should be banned from the universe, but commented that “the laws of physiology seldom give sway to popular opinion.”  He even looked in the hiker box for me to see if he could find some of “the good blister stuff” that he had found in the last hiker box, but came up with a shovel instead!  I was so glad to have a new shovel, and this one wasn’t so heavy.

 

Snickers and I got a ride back to trail the next morning, bright and early.  The weather was great, the sky a beautiful blue.  We hiked happily all day, not seeing any other hikers, (which meant no one had passed us!) and made camp near a lake full of red bellied newts. The next morning as we rounded a corner, there sat a hiker we had not yet met, but heard a lot about.  74 year old List’ner had caused quite a sensation among the hikers. She was a short little thing, like me, but with white hair and sparkly eyes.  Her pack was large and heavy, so much so that she put the pack on while sitting down and then stood up to minimize the strain on her back. She was spry, to say the least- funny how we only use that word for older people- and very easy to talk to. She never gave up.   Astro caught up in no time, greeted us warmly, and was also happy to see his friend List’ner.  He thought he had passed her up a few weeks back and wasn’t expecting to see her again, but then he demurred and said that was silly, because every time he took a few days off and went to town he would find her when he got back to trail,  just plugging along and making miles.  Seems List’ner rarely went in to town; after all, she said, it was the trail she was out here to see.

We walked on, Astro and Snickers up ahead and List’ner and I bringing up the rear, making conversation as she told me about her days in the Florida orange groves, and how she started running when she was fifty because all her kids were grown and she needed something to do.  She discovered she was good at running, and soon added in some serious biking as well.  Before you know it, she was doing Iron Man competitions at age 60.  She was great company. I don’t know what Snickers and Astro talked about, but we all hiked together happily for many miles that dayand enjoyed lunch together in a meadow near a nicely flowing creek.  Astro, being faster than the rest of us, moved on. You could tell he really liked hiking with List’ner but since we were keeping her company (really, keeping an eye on her) he felt confident to move ahead and put in some extra miles.  You could tell there was a protective bond between the two of them.  List’ner kept pace with us all day and then stayed and had dinner with us, because she had underestimated her food for this leg and needed some extra calories. We made camp there by the like but she decided she had better make a few more miles before bedding down for the night.  

 

We are early risers.  The next day we were on the trail with sunup, wondering if we would see the others again. It is hard to tell just how far others hikers might go or how far in front of you they will get.  You never know when you may see someone again.  We found a just-awakening Astro stretched out on his tarp at the edge of the woods near the next spring.  I walked down through the meadow hoping to find some running water, but it was just a seep, (though a nice deep, cold, one) in a meadow filled with deer droppings.  At least there were no cow pies.  I scooped up water for all three of us and spent the next little while using the Steri Pen to make sure the deer had kept all their germs to themselves.  Astro visited with us awhile, then moved on while we were still snacking.  We didn’t see him again until we made it in to Seiad Valley the next day.  He was on the lawn with other hikers, but gladly joined us (and List’ner) for a meal in our RV. Dinner conversation turned towards the immediate future and the danger of the fires burning up on the ridge.  Trail closure was imminent and fire fighters were offering hikers a ride up to Cook and Green pass to get them past the worst of the fire danger. Both hikers had to weigh the threat of fire against the desire to hike every mile from Mexico to Canada. I don’t know what they finally decided, but I was concerned about the flames we could see licking up over the ridge. That was our last trail day, and we never saw List’ner or Astro again, though I thought of them often as summer turned to fall.  I never saw their names posted as people who had finished their hike, but I silently wished each of them success. 

 

Last weekend we attended Trail Days in Cascade Locks after Snickers and I finished our Oregon hike.  During the afternoon I overheard someone’s conversation about a hiker who had just recently died of cancer.  They talked about how he had hiked the trail last year when he was fed up with all the chemo and treatments, and that he had finished late, but finished.  It was my friend Astro.  I was crushed.  I had no idea that he had been sick.  I am sure that was the way he wanted it after years of fighting a disease and being seen as a sick kid.  On the trail he was strong, capable, fearless, like any other hiker his age.  He was free of hospital beds, white sheets and clinical smelling hallways.  He spent his days among the trees and his nights among the stars.  He befriended little ladies and older hikers and went after his dream.  I was sad all weekend about losing Astro, but I also had a sense of overwhelming peace, knowing that he had been able to finish his hike, and finish his life, strong and whole and at peace with the world.