We are sitting cross-legged around our little tin cook-pot, shielding the wind that comes in gusts over the ridgeline and out across Lake Sallyann, by which we are stopped.
The day has been a long and productive one. We were able to cut a couple of miles off the detour by fording the White River prematurely and skipping the foot bridge another mile downstream. We dropped down and plunked into the knee-deep water and again I hefted the packs and let Eliza just work on getting herself across. At its highest, the river came up to my waist but the flow wasn't extremely heavy. The ford was difficult, but much more manageable than yesterday's near-trek-stopper at the Napeequa. This morning, Eliza wrote a song about the event. I'll have to get her to sing it again and put it down here sometime.
***
I feel amazed as I look out across the sweeping forested valleys -- amazed that doing this, walking, thinking, spending every waking breath working with Eliza to do this hike, is what I have been focusing on now for more than two months. She and I both are surprised at how interested we continue to be. Somehow, each day is still different. We even find new things to talk about as we drift in and out of conversation throughout our waking hours.
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Camped at Cady Pass . . . wish I had more time to sit and write my thoughts. Twenty-eight miles today. Skykomish tomorrow.
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