Skipping rocks, climbing mountains again. Trying to get over Donahue today. I was disappointed to find that I misread the hike out of Lyell Canyon, for the pass. We were spoiled for a couple of days with relatively flat walks. I am starting to worry about our timing, and hope that we pick up speed. The set up and breakdown of camp is speedy now, as is the water filtering and cooking. But it's hot, and cold, and keeping them hustling is a challenge. Up until today, I haven't engaged that line of thought, but we need to average more than six miles a day, in order to manage reserves, from now on. Max is doing well; strong, happy and cranky, on and off. Nate is truly persevering. This is rough on him, and he ends every peak or long day with "this is really amazing." This might totally be for my benefit, because Nate does that, but when one's body is as tested as our bodies have been, then polite, protective conversation doesn't often prevail.
So far:
Sunburn
Splinter
Scrape
Runny nose
I am carrying a lighter pack, down from 38lbs after our resupply, to around my starting weight of 32lbs, and my back is hanging in there. Our skin wears a dark layer, and my hair is moldable, but its kinda fun to be this dirty.
Boys are loving it.
We just met a guy FINISHING the JMT. Awesome. A dad. He cheered the boys on.
When I was six, I think, I went to Rhode Island with my family and my Aunt's family; (yes, six, Corinne was potty training). My idol was five years older than I, my cousin Marialisa. She has the greatest laugh and beautiful long hair, and was just as cool as I could imagine. She found a starfish on this trip and dried it as a souvenir. Cool.
The house we stayed in was (I have since been told) barely standing. I remember it was crooked and that I could hear the waves crash as I went to sleep. This was a new sound, in a strange house, and I remember being put to bed earlier than everyone else, which meant I also heard voices and laughing outside the door. I was out of place, knowing I should be excited and super happy like everyone else, but I was anxious and unsure of how to be. And the waves kept me up, and everyone was older, and I didn't want to be little.
Yesterday we took half the day to play at the foot of a great big pass. Max fell in love with a bunch of great hikers who, in turn, thought my guys were superstars. Max wanted so badly to be friends with these guys, to be their age, to be big. He was embarrassed of his jammie's, and wanted to go hang out with his (college aged) friends. As I called him into the tent for bed, I saw my mom putting me to bed in Rhode Island, when it was still light out. We were settled at the foot of Donahue Pass, a steep mountain with ice peaks, and along a river. The wind was stronger than at any other site, and this was also the first site we shared with many campers; (off the grid site, I mean). There were voices and pounds of wind that sounded like crashing waves. Max stayed up most of the night whispering to me and reading. I tried to remember to jot this down, and hoped I wouldn't forget how I jumped in and out of my son's head and my mother's head in these last few hours.
