Day 4: March 31, 2012



Rusty collecting firewood like a lumberjack!

The wind ripped through the ridge all night. The gusts were recorded up to 30mph. I was worried that my homemade rain fly was going to rip apart. It flapped in the wind with an intensity that was frightening and it came in crashing waves like on beach during a hurricane. I would be able to hear the noise as it crept up the valley below my, then up the mountainside, over one ridge, then another. Finally and with much awaited anticipation it would hit camp. At first I heard the sound. Something like a mix between a train and a jet engine, then it would rap at my tarp and whip the edges like something akin to Indiana Jones. Finally it would push the tarp into the side of the hammock and push me like a kid in a swing. Twice I got up to re-peg the stakes in the ground from the rain fly.

 

We sat the next day, knowing we only had 3.5 miles to our pickup point, like resident couch potatoes of the forest. We made a fire, breakfast, coffee and small talk. Visitors would pass by for a moment and we would share our knowledge of the trail behind us. A girl scout tried on Rusty's Pack.



We made our short miles later that afternoon towards Big Meadows campground. I commercial car-camping scene set in a clearing. We passed day hikers and groups of Boy Scouts, both seemingly betrayed by the trail and physical exertion. Once at the way side we grabbed a table and promptly ordered a cup of chili and a beer in celebration of our finish. Our pickup was not until 8:30 that night and the way side closed at 7, so we got some snacks and waited in the cold and rain but had a great time laughing at ourselves and how much we simply looked like bums.