When in Doubt, Eat

Day 8Miles 9When in doubt, eat. We say.But I hadn’t packed any snacks and we were marching along and I was starving to death and getting mega super grumpy and feeling very doubtful. The sign when we left said Tahoe City – 13 miles. We hiked for a long time and then saw a sign that said we’d gone 2 1/2 miles and also said Tahoe City – 12 miles.The whole day was like that.The Read more…

One Tiny Dancer and The Whole Goateo

Day 7Milage 0Good job on getting yourself clean…ish. Aidan said.Thanks. I said.He’d come to Watson Lake to give me a resupply yesterday. Joshua came and took Sophie home to shower and do chores and sleep in a real bed.Aidan and I camped and ate hot dogs and listened to other campers get drunk and loud, and when it was dark, I cleaned myself with one of those no rinse bath wipes. The ones that are Read more…

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 Read more…

Calm Seas and Correct Miles

Day 5Miles 9The seas were calm in this hammock of mine. I slipped away and away I slipped. I woke up once, from dreams that my hands were horribly bruised, only to find out in the light of my headlamp that it was truly only a dream. I woke again at 2:34, surprised that I was alive and unsure why.But here came 4am and the pressure of not making The Correct Amount of Miles dragged Read more…

Shitty McShitty Night and the Goateo Never Sleeps

Day 4Miles 9Las night we couldn’t eat. The morning wasn’t any better. I finally realized we were over ten thousand feet in elevation, and that will happen at altitude. What does that even mean – at altitude?Anyway it was a super shitty night. Shitty McShitty Night. The wind caught my rainfly of my hammock and I went sailing around like a ship in stormy seas. A quaking aspen leaf in a hurricane. And it never Read more…

Froggie Noises and Triumph in Our Eyes

Day 3Miles 9The Butterflies get the soft stuff. My underquilt for my hammock. Sophie’s sleeping bag. The tarps. Water shoes.Things that won’t break if Bosco whacks them.Oatcake carries the bear cans for the same reason. If a bear can’t get into them, I figure Bosco can’t break them if he whacks Oatcake.Bosco gets electronics and delicate stuff and gas cannisters because nobody dares whack him back.We are making a point to talk to Oatcake more. Read more…

The Clam-Chowdery-Misty-Soupy-Morning

Day 2Miles 11Sophie whacked her ankle on the picnic table first thing. Look at the lights of Reno! she said. And we didn’t know if it really was Reno or not but they were beautiful in the dawn.The mist flying over the ridge looked like smoke and I posted on Facebook but everyone confirmed that it was nothing and pretty soon we were hiking through it and it was cold and crazy blowy and even Read more…

Friends and Happiness and Electric Fences

It took just about as long as you’d imagine it took – getting out of town and getting the goats fed and loaded up. But it took longer than you’d imagine it took to actually figure out gear and weigh everyone’s packs and argue about water for the 79th time and hunker down for additional Water Weight Math Marathons.We dumped out liters and liters of perfectly good water because we just needed the bottles. We’ll Read more…

The Guard Rail, and a Definite Concussion

Can you come up here by me in case we have to shoo off some dogs? Sophie said from the front, first thing in the morning. Sure. I said and started hurrying up from the rear. Running? We’re Running! Said Oatcake, and ran up behind me and attempted to pass me. His panniers hit me in the back of the legs and knocked me off my feet. I landed on my knee, then my hip, Read more…

The Mystery, and My Beloved Fighting Sailfish

We got up and Bosco was already fussing. Wrapping his horns around and around the highline, then acting like a baby about it. Like he was super stuck and didn’t know what to do. We’d start heading his way to help, and he’d suddenly untangle himself. Like magic. Repeatedly. He knew what he was doing. Attention-getter. He’s a Smart Little Bugger. It took us a tenth of the time to take down the fence, so Read more…

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