Mile 492 to 508
“Dude we got enough problems – you don’t have to invent any.” - Dayhike
What seemed like a lush campsite in the moonlight was actually a mosquito breeding ground by morning. As soon as we unzipped our tent, those really big mosquitoes that don't actually bite swarmed in, urging us to pack up faster. I find this routine a bit trying: wake up, hurry up, hike, repeat. This morning in particular I felt groggy from the late night, and as soon as we started hiking, we were swarmed by bugs. In the first mile, we had to cross a moist mosquito-infested mini-swamp, which quickly brought me to tears. Sometimes, I feel very out of my element, knowing that I'm not finding the joy others seem to find in being in nature. Sometimes I do feel that joy, especially at dawn or dusk if the terrain is such that my mind can wander, but more often, I am pushing through discomfort - sweat, bugs, exertion, hunger... if I learn anything on this trail, it will be how to tolerate discomfort and move forward.
The first eight miles of the days was a wall of bugs and uphill hiking. I resorted to using one pole to hike with and the other to wave in a vaguely drum major way, as though leading a marching band, in order to clear the surrounding area of as many bugs as possible.
We finally reached the campground, where we were to get water. I sat cross-legged as the bugs absolutely swarmed around me, closing my eyes and wondering if this was a lesson in mediation. When it grew unbearable, I took off to find Boom, who had immediately gone looking for water, only to realize the campground was vast. I walked for ten or so minutes to no avail before turning back to get the water report with directions. At that point, Dayhike and Jetpack showed up. Jetpack shared my disdain and annoyance for the bugs (I can always count on her), but Dayhike was altogether cheerful, commenting on what a beautiful morning it was.
The three of us headed off to look for Boom, soon finding him in an utterly disgruntled state, walking down a hill. Dayhike asked about the water, to which he could only grunt. It turned out that the water was at least a half mile away, uphill, and one needed a scoop, which Boom had not taken with. Instead, he resorted to dunking a bandana and squeezing it into the bottle repeatedly for 25 minutes before finally giving up. We had a scoop, so he turned around, and led us to the cistern.
[Pretty much our mood on this buggy morning, campsite, see liz's baton in the background?, scooping water, not amused, trekking back from the water]
Water filtering took quite some time, but we worked together - Boom scooping, and all of us filtering. Later, we returned to the camp for lunch, and then all seven of us laid down to nap for an hour - that's my jam!
I heard Jetpack stirring, so we got up, too, packing up for the final ten miles of the day. Those miles were peaceful and meandering, wandering up and down the hillside. The fields were orange and pink in the twilight. All was well until Adam's knee unexpectedly locked up on him; he had been doing so much better and was shocked at how intense the pain came on. He responded by letting his pole know exactly how he felt, which didn't work out too well for the pole.
[Sleepy Spearhead, Sleepy Dayhike, Sleepy us, look at those Vans! (the largest pinecones we have ever seen), "And we will walk 500 miles!", the official 500, bug netted Fey, Capi and Animal style resting during sunset]
When we arrived at camp after dark, ten or so cowboy campers (people sleeping on the hillside without tents) wearily lifted their heads, so we attempted to quietly set up our tent - let's be honest, we ain't cowboy camping. Shortly after, Animal Style started calling down the hill: "BOOM? BOOM? BOOM AND FEY?" It was impossible to convey the situation quietly, so we just gritted our teeth as he came loudly down the mountain despite the grumbles of the campers around us. Luckily, a wind storm started brewing and masked the sounds of our crew blowing up air mattresses and staking tents.
View at Mile 500
