Journal Entries

I know not what song she sang. Her voice and ukulele chords carried from across the valley. It mixed harmoniously with the choral laughter of those in some hidden camp behind the nearby ridge. I like to think it was a happy love song about the early euphoric stages of love. It makes me wish I had a little whiskey to sip and share with this sunset. Jim Beam perhaps, for few flavors call out in the voice of summer like Jim.

A 12 Fl oz Cactus Cooler In Pineapple Blast soda contains 79% of ones daily recommended intake of sugar, apparently. Today was fully restorative. It illuminated a possible source if my consternation too. What I believe to be Mount Whitney can be seen looming above the mountains blocking the horizon. It is the highest point in some stupidly large area and within 110 miles of me. I have the permit to summit it, but I will be so new to the Sierra and find it foreboding. A vague anxiety and fear of the unknown but certainly mildly dangerous especially if the snow situation there doesn't improve is a clear recipe for the recent bad night. You all know the feeling when the brain demands new information to assess a threat and is unrelenting even when it is fully aware no new information can be obtained.

With full knowledge of the source of my malcontent it is nearly entirely washed away. But I see the landscape changing, the Sierra is coming and there is nothing more to do but walk forward and hope for less snow up there. And drink in this awesome trail magic, of course.

First gear failure: mile 250, backpack strap broke, tied back together, still working fine

Second gear failure: mile 620, headphones ripped apart when scampering over a fallen tree. I really am bad at hiking without rhem, hoping to hitch a ride to a town to get a new pair. Need battle music to steel my resolve for the climb to Kennedy Meadows

As expected, the day comes with light. The desert deals is no half tones, it is always blunt and saturated. Shade, water, and Julien Baker leaves me physically comfortable, but for my left foot, and in a state of bittersweet reflection. For those who don't have rankings of human emotions in terms of platonic beauty, you may be interested to know that the emotional state related to bittersweet is the most beautiful. It is a hybrid that acknowledges both traditionally considered positive feelings and traditionally considered negative feelings. Thus it is the most artistic and wisest of our emotional pallet. Other emotions ignore either the "good" or "bad" of the world. How ignorant and unbalanced of them.

Has it been three years now since listening to Sprained Ankle or just three? Countless listens between New England and Arizona, best times and worst times, and yet it still always moves me to the balanced state.

The emotional bad weather is over and soon I'll be back to fully enjoying my precious time away from real life, but some have asked what the emotional side of thru hiking can be like, so I hope this window into a low turning back high fulfills such curiosities to some extent, cryptic as my style tends to be. Here's some cows passing the road by the 2'x4' folding I've been hiding under for shade for lunch

Only a few hours into camp, but I feel these are some of my lowest hours yet. Even including the 30 degree night in which I was soaked to the bone and slept under a picnic table. Including all the nights of soreness, bugs, and loneliness. For I have all of those today, with a splash of dehydration caused by a long hard day that even 6 or 7 litres of water can't do the job completely. Its been 50 days or so since I've seen a friend from home, 40 days or so since I've seen family which makes all the physical issues above seem less tolerable than ever, and such physical issues make the loneliness less tolerable than ever. The memory of nights like this surely must push one to be more empathetic.

I am 100 miles from the Sierra. Its not like quitting is even a remote possibility, but like all bad circumstances on the trail, you just have to hope they'll resolve themselves soon. The mental weather is just bad tonight is all. What is surprising is how quick the mental storm came, without warning or dark clouds to herald its arrival.

I must endure this bug killing vigil until full darkness when such creatures are less inclined toward home invasion, but I hope sweet precious sleep comes immediately with that darkness.

From the lowest mental elevation yet, Pilgrim

I tried to chase the sunset. Nearly skipping forward while wishing to shed my heavy pack to have a few more moments with it.

I had been counting the stairs, but realized I lost track some time ago. How long can a staircase be? What silent images are these that drift past demanding my attention with such force?

"Is this where good men go to drink?" I asked the bartender, looking around and seeing only patrons of questionable character. Confused, the man replied with hesitation, "Certainly not." Hesitation and certainty are interesting bed fellows. "Where then, do the good people of this town drink? I should very much like to go there instead." "Try across the street, they seem a better lot," he replied while surveying his customers. Across the street I saw a crowd of better repute, dressed in suits and sweaters. But I heard nothing but lies and conceit. Incredulous that this was the best lot, I asked the new bartender "Please sir, I asked the owner across the street where the good people go to drink, I believe he was mistaken with his answer, is there another establishment in this town where good men go to drink?" Questioning, the man replied without hesitation, "Certainly not. These are the good people of this town." I returned to the first bar and settled in at a game of cards. Upon being dealt a hand I overheard a naive man at the counter asking where the good men go to drink".

Awake, I reviewed my food bag. 7 days of food left. A typical day consisting of Breakfast: 2 Oatmeal Packets mixed with one Carnation Instant Breakfast Snack: 1 Cliff Bar Snack: Ramen Lunch: PB or Tuna on Tortilla, Jerky, MM's Snack: Trail Mix Dinner: Mashed Potatoes and cheese Snack: Too many Crasin's or MM's or Chocolate Chips

Today would be my first 29 mile day. My feet will be swollen, my throat will be parched, but I will Dream tonight.

I met bojack horseman at hiker heaven

And thus I clothe naked villainy in old odd ends stolen forth of holy writ and a saint, when most I play the devil

"Alexa, play Streets of Whiterun by Jeremy Soule"