August 29
1300 – 1321
It was super cold when I woke up. Good thing I’d put the rain fly on my tent. I watched the sunrise and made a tiny bit of coffee. I am not thrilled with the Folgers single teabag situation. They’re too heavy and the coffee’s not strong enough.
I didn’t have enough water. I hiked to a spring and made more coffee and breakfast. I met another hiker who was folding up his hammock. 
Five miles and rest, five more miles. I had my head down most of the day.
The water sources were well spread out. I had to walk 1/3 of a mile down into a canyon to get to Robbers Spring. It was full of drowned yellow jackets.
I hate seeing the erupting volcanos of toilet paper. So many questions about how that happens. Why so large? Why so much paper? Why so close to the trail? Why would someone take a crap requiring such a large wad of wiping right next to the path? Was this some kind of emergency situation, or were they just that lazy?
The best thing I saw today was a little toad living in a tiny cave. I hope my taking the picture didn’t disturb this little dude.
The sun went down and I kept going. My headlamp caught the reflection of the metal diamonds on the trees. I saw a small owl, its eyes reflecting back red and indignant. A pair of eyes glowed at me, and then the deer shape materialized and walked into the trees. Another pair of eyes glowed back from a hill above. These were closer to the ground, and didn’t move back. A big cat? A bear? I found myself turning back to check behind me for the next mile. Then I saw the light from another headlamp – Foxfire in his hammock between two trees. “Sorry about that!” I told him.
I came to the trail for Butt Mountain. Why not sleep on Butt Mountain? I hiked up under the rising moon, full of night energy. There weren’t any flat tent spots, so I squeezed my sleeping bag under a pine tree.
Spinstera 