So it can go something like this: Backpack ten miles, set up camp, then day hike three miles over a big, formidable pass to visit an outfitter, then go three miles back? In one day? After a few days last week of combat backpacking over other formidable passes? Why not?
I admit, I have become smug about my hiking prowess this summer. After all I started in May chasing after contractors, climbing in and out of the canyon, gaining and losing 8,000 feet. Hiking is what running used to be; my feet know it, my body knows it. It's a dance we know.
|Little Frazier Lake.|
The pass itself was windless, a breath caught and held, still eighty degrees at seven at night. I felt unfamiliarly tired. On Day 2, a supposedly easy downclimb of ten miles, my pace plummeted to 2.5 miles an hour. Each landmark passed with excruciating slowness. Finally the trailhead appeared, none too soon.
J met me at the door with a box of ice cream sandwiches. I ate two. "How was it?" he asked.
"Um. It was a bit much to do for an overnight," I said.
He laughed. "You're a freak of nature," he said.
I was too tired to correct him.
|llamas are cool.|