There was an error in this gadget

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Mile 1591.4: brief summary

Castella's only ibuprofen containing product was advil pm. I have barely enough regular ibuo get me through the day, but blue pills come in handy at night. I have to take them as soon as I get into camp so that I'm not hiking stoned the next morning. Did I already write about how the first morning out of Castella I was a zombie? I would find flat straight smooth short sections of trail and hike them with my eyes closed. Anyway, I have two days to write before the hammer hits my brain.

-My sleeping pad developed a leak at a stress point. Didn't sleep well. I found water deep enough to submerge the pad, found the leak, and discovered that my Mat-Fix-A tube had developed a leak too... and was completely cured.

-I felt really nauseaus after lunch, for about a minute. Then it felt like somebody had strapped me to a jetpack: I was flying! It only lasted for a couple of hours, but I covered some good ground and was in front of both Sweet 16 and Microburst.

-I ran into a deer hunter with either a bow or a crossbow. He said he was out for ten days, but his pack was piled so high it looked like he could have survived a month. The man plus the pack weighed so much his footprints were very clearly indented into the trail, much better than anyone else's. He was wearing a glove he had fitted with sharp steel claws coming out of the back of the hand- for mountain lions. I felt intimidated.

-Right before camp, I heard metallic donging in the distance. I thought, "Oh, Micro and 16 are banging on their pots and having fun with me. Ha ha, must be close to camp!" but the donging never stopped for a giggle break, and soon it was clear the sound was coming from two different locations off-trail. Wind chimes perhaps? Really, really creepy wind chimes? I started imagining myself in Blair Witch Project 2: Haunted Public Use Cabins. I reached for my pocket knife. Then I came out of the trees, and... cows. With cowbells. Duh.

No comments:

Post a Comment