July 4: No fireworks tonight

We realized last month that we had done our math wrong when we planned this whole thing. We arranged to have our vacation with my mom in mid-June and be back on the trail coming south two months from our start date of April 21. The problem was, we would have only completed 744 miles by then, or approximately 1/4 of the entire trail. At this rate, we'll still be hiking on Christmas. We realized this and knew that when we started southbound the pace would have to be much much greater.

And here we are, doing it now. Today, we should be pulling a 30. We've stopped to cook now and will probably finish in the dark after another 3.5 miles. It is a challenge, doing this. My feet ache. I forget to take in my surroundings. At the same time, it is exciting. We know that we are flying. We see our position move in front of our eyes on the little illegible topos spread out before us while we break. 100 miles is 4 days now, instead of 5. That means less food carried -- or, more likely, for us, more food eaten over shorter periods of time. Have I mentioned that I have yet to shed a pound?

***

Dinner was aborted. First I lifted our fickle little pot and spilled hot water all over the ground, burning my wrist over the alcohol stove in the process. Then, after a fresh pot came to a boil and we started in on reconstituting a couple of Freeze Dried Mountainhouse meals that we had "scored" from the Dinsmores' hiker box, we had the unpleasant olfactory realization that these meals were simply not going to be edible. They were disgusting -- worse, I imagine, than eating dog food for dinner after hiking 28 miles. So, Eliza went about burying the waste in a hole somewhere off in the woods and I cleaned up and made us a couple of never-fail peanut-butter sandwiches on cinnamon-raisin bagels (this week, scooping from a double bag!).

The final leg took us into darkness. Two campsites which the editors of our data book had taken pains to include in among the other notable listings turned out to be nothing but sloped recesses just off the trail, so we passed them up and kept climbing, finally setting camp right in the middle of the trail, just before a big time engineered bridge which spans the roaring Delate Creek's cascading waters. The sound is tremendous, but nothing -- absolutely nothing -- could keep us awake tonight.

So, our second 30+ mile day is done. Bugs continue to be an annoyance on the trail, making it difficult to stop and rest. On a positive note, we were met at a bend this afternoon with a view of one of Mt. Rainier's huge, icy shoulders. This one is a giant, a sentinal standing watch over the whole state, it seems. Over the next 100 miles we pass right on by the great 14,000 footer. Soon, we'll be getting to Adams as well, and St. Helens, and Hood, and Jefferson . . .