Eagle Eye and The Unlikely Love Affair

Day 6

Miles 3

Sophie sees everything. Long before I do. Bikers and hikers and dogs and meadows and spots to camp. Places for the highline and eagles and views and places for my hammock. Interesting rocks and Where The Trail Goes From Here.
I’ve taken to calling her Eagle Eye.
She calls me Iron Foot as a nod to my comeback from the PCT and because it sounds more badass than Dragonfly.
We decided to sleep in.
Let’s sleep in until 5, Sophie said. So that’s what we did. And it was glorious. And felt luxurious and like we were cheating.
We wandered our way through these big old bushes I call Bear Bushes but I don’t know what they really are. And they have white groups of flowers that smell more delicious than anything I’ve ever tasted and I want them planted in every place my ashes are dropped. But they’re way too smelly to put in my hair. That’s reserved for daisies.
Oatcake ate the bite valve on my water bladder yesterday and my lips are chapped from dehydration because it’s unusable and difficult to drink unless we stop and I take off my pack. Which is a general pain in the ass. So I stay just a little dehydrated and cope.
Pollen covers everything. Our faces and throats and solar panels. It makes everything just a little more difficult. We cough and blow our noses until it feels like our whole faces just came out into the Huggies wipe. But then it’s better for half an hour and I can at least breathe a little.
There is an unlikely love affair developing between Bosco and Oatcake. Oatcake looks to Bosco for protection and spends most of his time as close as possible to Bosco, resting his head on him when they lay down, standing butt to butt when they’re on the highline, nuzzling his head if he’s not getting enough attention.
Bosco, surprisingly, is returning the love. He seeks out Oatcake to walk next to, and scratches his neck with his horns. He rubs his face against Oatcake’s and gives him little kisses. He doesn’t even whack him around much anymore. Except every once in a while.
Bosco is getting better at spacial recognition. He knows how big his panniers are and how wide he is, so he rarely runs into anything anymore when he’s walking down trail. I can almost hear him turn a little sideways to make it through two narrow rocks. But I don’t hear the scrape of his panniers. On the other hand, I cannot seem to figure out how tall I am with the electric fence poles in my pack. I must be two feet taller, but I run into trees constantly. Walking, walking, walking Wham. Repeat seventeen times.
Bosco is a little brighter than me.
And at the end goes Eagle Eye. Watching it all happen.
Not missing a thing.