1207 – 1229
It’s the weekend so everything is crowded. A trail crew arrives just as I am leaving the crowded campground. My hosts are still sleeping in their tent so I leave a thank you note on their picnic table. I can hear dirt bikes in the distance. Mountain bikes dudes pass me on the PCT. One yells to me that he was guy who gave me a ride yesterday. I encounter a man dressed in head to toe camo with a bow across his back. A whole herd of dude bros on mountain bikes thunders by on a side road. A few women with them, one even says hello to me. We arrive at the top of the hill together and then they all drop down the bike trail. It looks kind of fun.
Hazy skies. Is it smoke?
I pass a lying trail magic sign. There’s no lunch at the spring. I sit down to drink water and eat some tuna. A kid and dad pull up in their space age ATV. The kid is sweet and polite. I get a twinge of teacher nostalgia.
Sap everywhere. It’s on my tent in little blobs. I feel something sticky in my hair. I pull a huge glob of sap out of my hair, along with a huge wad of hair. I love the smell but it’s the stickiest stuff in the world. Tar baby sticky. The pines have different pine cones. Light green and soft. Sometimes they’re covered with sparkling sap that looks like honey. I want to lick them.
Just before falling asleep, I see a bird shape zip over my tent, followed by a violent wet crunch beside me.