We slept at the foot of Forester; above treeline and under a children's book sky. Every night, EVERY site, every sleep has been ideal. [note* I am presently filling in these lost log entries while sitting in a house, showered and sipping wine. I am still pecking away on a phone, but with stronger service..and I'm tearing up, feeling so far away from where we were. We were lying snuggled into the the earth, for thirty one days. If you know how that feels, your chest will heave a bit when I say, we were in it. I now have two worlds, and they are incomparable, and it's uncomfortable to analyze it. That night at Forester, and every night before it, we woke to miracles. Chattering creeks, turquoise clear lakes and rocks that pose as dinosaurs in the night. Sigh.]
We decided to take the next section slowly, both for sentimental and lazy reasons. The guys went marmot hunting, while I washed our clothes and treated water for our walk. Trying as the pack up/ set up is, I swear to you, it is better, it is better, it is better. We are better people out there. There are real people out there- society removed. Meanwhile, on the trail, an acknowledged love and kinship for people and good hearts exists. It is a world of introverts who look out for and care for fellow introverts. Or rather, just human beings looking out for human beings. Wonderful.
We rambled on through real sweet and easy trails toward Whitney, and I heard all about the boys' fav TV shows again and again. These TV relays carried us through many days of walking. A woman soon approached us saying "..people are telling stories about you.." and she went on. complimenting the boys, and expressing a real admiration for their courage and strength. She then warned us of three river crossings ahead. Nothing scares the boys more than rough river crossings. Everything dimmed and darkened behind the boys' eyes, and our leisurely day was wrought with anxiety and silence. I told bad jokes and tried to " look on the bright side of things," but the only consolation offered was found in proposed plans and strategies for the crossing. I tied ropes to my bag and set up a plan to carry them both if needed, and tried desperately to be as light and matter-of-fact in demeanor as possible. Shit.
As you might have guessed, the crosses were ok. The first two were like a doctor's visit, and the tears automatically came in anticipation of the worst, but these fears were soon squashed. We were assisted by a gentlemen who popped out of the woodwork (literally) to help us out. He had heard that we were coming, and was waiting for us with granola bars and a smile. Where else would something like this be sincerely amazing? The last two rivers we were helped across by three nice men (a son and dad team, and their friend). Max was completely over his fear by creek #2, and Nate was feeling confident at the third cross.
We walked a bit further to camp by a mellow stream, ate some ramen and crashed early. Hey, listen to this: tomato sauce, mixed with pesto (freeze dried), mixed with Annie's cheese from Mac n cheese packets, mixed with ramen, tastes like pizza. True story.
Tomorrow we hit Crabtree Camp.