The path to Canada is wrought with peril. My journey began through chest-high, rugged chaparral, hollowed cacti, 15-20 mph constant blowing sand, fallen yucca, and crazy locals. The majority of the latter seem to be conspiracy theorists and fervent Ron Paul supporters. Like a Survivor episode gone horribly awry two hikers have had to cut off there hike due to fractures and sprains, another airlifted off of the first mountain due to dehydration and heat stroke, and one allegedly arrested at the kick off party. On day one I saw two rattlesnakes and almost stepped on one if i hadn’t heard its distinct percussive warning. Note to self: STOP WEARING MY IPOD THROUGH THE DESERT!
The kickoff party was very predictable. Drunkards and vendors discussing gear and footwear as I sipped cool Modello Especiales in the shade and attempted to figure out my byzantine GPS device. I ended up crashing on a picnic table and dreaming of Mexican food.