July 24: Midway

We walked the entire day under cover of trees in shadows. We walked and felt good. At noon, we passed a road which we had determined marks the halfway point of our trip, 1332 miles. We ate lunch just off the road and spent a while figuring how to fit in all the hiking we can before leaving the trail again in September. We are shooting for an August 31st arrival at Sierra City, CA. At this point, we will both head into San Francisco, from where Eliza will fly back to Ithaca for the week to attend two of her best friends' weddings. I will visit in the Bay area for the first few days and then fly back east myself for a short visit with my family and Eliza's family. We fly back to SF on September 11th.

But here we are for now.

This whole experience is just so long. To think, half way, these three long months, Spring to Summer. I no longer even think about the comforts of living in a home, of eating well and cooking in my own kitchen. I rarely even long anymore for the dark comforting still of a movie theatre -- we actually went to a movie in Portland and left early because it was just too
bad (there was a point where I couldn't have fathomed such a notion, coming in from off the trail and settling into the cool, cozy confines of a theatre and walking out).

The trail is easy for us now. It is what we do; we walk. The days are long, but we find ways to break things up and change the routine. Eliza and I continue to find things to dicuss. We have a closet full of silly jokes and games which always seem to keep us amused with ourselves.

Huckleberries are growing everywhere alongside the trail this afternoon. The native people called them Olallie. I enjoy the sound of this word. It sounds sweet. We first stuffed ourselves purple-lipped and then collected a cup or so to eat tomorrow morning along with our oatmeal. They are taking their revenge on our digestive tracts right now, unfortunately. The tent stinks something awful and we're both just trying to grin and bear it.

Eliza was a camp champ tonight. She cooked and set up the tent and let me be lazy here with my book. The mosquitos found us here as well and she's been out there all bundled up, working away, Zen calm in the middle of the evil insect storm. She even stretched out and did yoga while managing all the other tasks. What a girl!

***

I had nearly fallen asleep with my head on Eliza's shoulder when a voice broke through my dreamscape. "Hey there!" A clumsy, loud whisper. I stirred. Eliza held her breath. Again, louder, "Hey there!" I am fully awake now and Eliza calls back. Before we know it, he's got his tarp-tent staked and up just outside our own screen door, his mouth gabbing uncontrollably, talking Sierras and stats, miles and months.

And so ensues one more utterly inane, altogether mind numbing through-hiker conversation. Where'd you flip? How many miles you doing? Me, I'm pulling down upper 30s, 40s. You guys trying to go to sleep or something? Yeah, anyway, like I was saying, I flipped to Sierra City . . . and on and on. I fumed silently for the half-hour affair, while Eliza made polite comments of approval and encouragement. I felt like Woody Allen rolling my eyes, imagining myself rolling over to the audience, my back to scene at hand, and saying wryly, "Can you believe this guy?"