9: 22 miles – the walk

Droobie had been awake since 4 am. He began to start his belongings to his bag around 6 in the morning. I knew he did this to wake up during our first day.

Beaker woke up frozen and angry. Droobie and I wait for a whole hour to prepare.

We start the day with a flat walk through the soft floor of the pine forest. My gratitude for the sun that stepped on the canopy of the trees, and the promise of a long sunny day of hiking, faded quickly when we approached a water crossing. It was too cold to entertain the idea of ​​soaking our shoes so early.

«I’m taking my shoes, I already have blisters,» Droobie said. We all sit on Earth by removing our shoes, socks and leggings. In the time that took us to do it, we saw 4 through hikers march without flinching. What to see God.

We groaned and shout at cold water, collecting our path carefully. My feet stood up on the other side of the bank. We made a sample of sitting, carefully cleaning our feet, stepping on socks and relaxing. We walk about 2 minutes and we find another water crossing. Instead of beating and walking, we repeat the slow process more times this morning of what I would like to admit.

Beaker and I arrived at a crossing that Droobie was already flying. We continue, although Beaker seemed that I wasn’t sure it was the right path.

I lost sight of the two while we climbed through green fields wearing the most spectacular aerosols of the wild flowers that I have seen. With the background of the mountains, the climb was at least beautiful and rolling.

We hit some fallen trees that required uncomfortable increases. Upon reaching the top, we lost a path, looking for the road.

«We could have subverted this up, we added 5 miles,» said Beaker. Despite how beautiful it had been, it had not been a walk in the park.

I met both at a water crossing.

«How far have we gone?» I asked.

«Not far enough,» said Droobie.

«As far as?» I asked, again.

«9 miles»

Santa Shit. I thought we had gone 11 or 12. It was on it.

We continue, sliding and sliding through the mud, pressing more curves. I feel dismayed every time I consult my map. I fall in such a painful rhythm of hiking that the slightest inconvenience enraged me: tangled headphones illegal. Dry lips make me want to shout. My bear spray falling to the ground feels like a last straw. I am hungry and thirsty, but I refuse to do anything to help my situation, since we pursue the daylight to the rhythm we advance.

2 miles from the Bob Marshall Wilderness sign and blends in mud, covering my shoes and poles. I meet Beaker and Droobie in a water source, where we are all hurt and Ageee to call it the sign. It is dry, so we must carry out a lot of water.

I am extra dehydrated, so fill all my bottles and vexigas. The bladder does not fit anywhere in my package, so I carry it awkwardly in one hand, my headphones hanging from the second, holding my poles awkwardly as I accelerate through the muddy path. I look as disheveled as I feel. I know that when we stop, the rubbing of my thighs will be bad. I know that mosquitoes will be terrible and there may not even be a camp once we get there.

First I arrive at the tree and I find that the sign is nothing more than a lot of crumbled wood on the ground. Appropriate. Hiking is fun!

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