August 9
918 – 930
I woke up to a noisy flock of yellow finches. They flick around the trees like fish in a coral reef.
I bought a painter’s mask in town. I tried wearing it for awhile. Really stuffy. A wet bandanna tied bank robber style is a bit more comfie. I don’t like to think about all the smoke is doing to my pristine lungs.
I got to a nice mountain lake and sat down at the edge for lunch. I bought all these Mexican treats at the Latino Market. I’ve been trying to only eat one a day.
After lunch and I looked down to see food smeared all over my clothes. How did that happen? Will it keep happening when I am done with pct and return to real life? Will I continue wiping my nose on my shirt? Will I leave the smeared remains of mosquitos and biting flies on my skin as a warning to the rest? As I recall, normal people maybe don’t do those things.
Around sunset I walked over Donahue Pass. A couple of dudes were camped there in their ultralight tents. They were wrapped up in all their puffy gear and they looked cold. As long as I’m dry and walking, I don’t feel cold. But I bet it gets chilly up there at the top. As far as I’m concerned, seeing a sunrise or sunset just isn’t worth a night of shivering.
Coming over, I could see trees far below the field of boulders. I worried that I’d waited too long to camp. But then I found the most perfect campsite ever, tucked in all private, with a leveled out gravel spot for the tent.
Spinstera 