Waking up to a hot breakfast is one thing. Waking up to a Mike Smith breakfast burrito is another.As the sun came up over Hurricane Deck and the goats started moving about camp, Mike was scrambling eggs and grilling tortillas, putting the oversized mounds of Mexican food in foil and keeping them hot over a predawn fire. By the time breakfast was eaten, it was already scorching hot outside, still well before 9am. It was trail restoration day, so we split into three groups and got on the trail early so we could get in as much work as possible before the heat really descended up the San Rafael Wilderness. Though by the time my group - which consisted of Matt, another trail volunteer (and the fastest hiker I have ever met), Obi and Hall - finished our four mile hike, it was already blazing. We sat and shot the shit at an old cowboy camp before we started heading back down the mountain, chopping away at anything that could impede a nice hike, slowly making our way back down to the other groups at Vulture Springs.We did a lot more talking than cutting for the first few hours, and when Matt ran down the mountain to get more tools, Obi, Hall and I sat under the little shade we could find and ate sunflower seeds and drank water. By the time Matt had returned, we had taken another break a few minutes down the trail where we all sat for a good half hour telling as many horrible jokes as we could think of. A few hours later, as our skin turned the color of Indian Paintbrush, we met up with the rest of the crew and filled our water bottles at the springs.Matt and I continued on back to camp for a cold beer (thank you, goats), and as we were talking nonsense, Matt calmly yelled "SNAKE." I had unknowingly stepped on a rattler, and the snake, not surprisingly, had started to get a little angry. There were ten people headed down the mountain behind us, including children and goats, so Matt and I decided to take our Smitty Blasters (a Mike Smith patent pending tool) and kill the snake so it wouldn't cause any problems. It was unfortunate as he was doing nothing but being a snake, but after all was said and done, we felt like we had made the right decision. A pissed off snake resting on the trail could have been a recipe for disaster. No one wanted to get air lifted out of camp, and hell, there was beer, dinner and sunset to be had.Dinner that night was chicken and garlic bread with Mike's self-described "molten butter." (And for my idiot ass who doesn't eat meat, an avocado sandwich and oriental salad.) Mike surprised us with a few bottles of Figueroa Mountain Brewing Company's Hurricane Deck IPA, which supplied a good buzz as we all congratulated each other on a good day's worth of work. We climbed up on a nearby ridge, watched the sun go down, then retired to camp for a nightcap and chit chat. After that much work in the sun, hiker's midnight came especially early.