Ugh, hiking. Terribleness. Apparently hiking like a normal person isn't possible after summiting Whitney. We hobbled along, knowing all too well what lay between us and town: the highest point on the PCT. And honestly, as long as marmots and snow peaks exist, I'm way too distracted to make impressive miles.
I must have been in a fog all day because I'm writing this just two days later, and I don't remember nothin' bout this day. We walked, I guess.
[Genie+Me, B+F, fording rivers, we climbed that - Mt. Whitney!, tundra, snow times]
Okay, I guess that isn't completely true. I remember wading through a lot of really cold rivers. I remember Genie begging for life stories as a distraction from hiking terribleness. And camp was pretty memorable. We set up at the base of Forrester Pass at 12,500 feet in a boulder field between a boulder and a huge snow drift. Since there was limited space and it was freezing, half the people didn't set up tents and just snuggled with frendz. Boom made copious amounts of hot chocolate. I used someone's powdered milk and butter to make oatmeal that tasted like pudding. I dreamt for the third night in a row about food. Once, I dreamt about Chipotle (my brain was like, I know the solution to your problem!), another night my brain actually made up two foods that don't exist that I was preparing for the best Thanksgiving dinner ever, and finally I dreamt that I was helping my dad make snacks at the lake...? What's up, dad!?
[gonna camp behind this here boulder, our impressive gear, living outside]
