Porter pulled out a satellite beacon that e-mails her parents with her exact location at the push of a button. In an emergency, she could send out a call for help.
"It's worth the weight for the peace of mind my parents get," she said. "I'm kind of a gear nerd."
"I'm not," Billy Goat mumbled to himself.
He got up and demonstrated how one piece of gear -- a tarp -- could be used both as a tent and a rain poncho.
"You look like a wise sage," Porter said as Billy Goat modeled the poncho. "A guru with your cloak on."
Soon, a nearly full moon lit up the night sky, and the only sound was the gurgle of the stream.
Early the next morning, the two parted company. Time is of the essence on the PCT, especially when one is 69. Billy Goat needs to keep moving.
His goal is "50 by 80" -- 50,000 miles by the age of 80, more than 1,600 miles a year.
"The only thing he lives for is to be on the trail," his son said. "When the point comes when he can't go out and walk a couple thousand miles -- he's scared to death of it."
But today is not that day. The sun is barely up and Billy Goat is adding to his internal pedometer, legs pumping like pistons up and over a ridgeline, each step taking him further away from a man named George.
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mike.anton@latimes.com
