July 7: Sun, glorious sun!

Today was a subtle beauty, a well-rounded reminder of just how perfect conditions can be out here.

We just came into camp at Louisiana Saddle in the foggy half-light of evening. Our after-dinner walk, one of the most refreshing parts of the day (odd as it is, like getting in the car and going back to work after coming home for dinner), took us tonight through the first low-hanging cloud of the day. Since the morning mists cleared, the sun shone the day through. I couldn't believe waking up this morning to a dry tent. Last night I barely wasted time hoping that more rain wouldn't fall. It seemed like the only sure thing there was left as I lay there, legs chill with damp drafty air, my sleeping bag lying limp across my poor, aching lap, de-lofted to the extreme -- it was but a damp, silicone-impregnated sheet liner last night.

We had everything dried out and sun-puffed by noon today. A cool breeze kept us company and assisted in our housekeeping, rain-recovery chores as well.

Eliza stared blankly at her slowly drying, blue-dyed journal, still deeply troubled by why this had to happen, why didn't she use a different pen for those three long weeks, why didn't she write more often and fill it sooner so it would have been sent home, and on and on . . .

I've lost a few journals over the past five years. I know it to be a terrible feeling, as if all the experiences and everything that had been recorded no longer existed at all; had never happened. The memories are falsified by time and the precise -- and hopefully genuine -- language of feeling and impression lost, vanished.

You can only try to forget about it. Easy come, easy go. Write more, starting now.

***

This evening we ate dinner at the Mike Urich shelter at the Government Meadows campground. We were shooting for it all afternoon as a good spot -- it had a creek running by, was at a good distance of 25 miles or so for the day. The fact that there was a shelter there didn't mean much to us. Shelters are more often than not pretty ratty place -- literally -- but, nonetheless, it was worth checking out. As it turns out, the Mike Urich shelter is no ordinary shelter. When we arrived, we were happily surprised to find a gorgeous cabin complete with wood stove, a clean, carpeted loft, and a stocked shelf with sodas, instant coffees, tea, and popcorn!

Trail angel, trail angel . . .

Some kind soul stocked this place and, aside from the swarms of mosquitoes, we were in a trail-weary hiker's paradise. I sucked down three cans of soda while cooking up our night's pot of mac and cheese. Dinner was then followed by JiffyPop popcorn cooked over our alcohol stove. What an idea!

The after-dinner walk followed and we camped at dark. Life feels good. Eliza and I are great companions. I feel such camaraderie with her today.