What a difference clear skies make!!! I might possibly have just enjoyed the most perfect 36 hours of the entire trail. (Ill have to check my notes on whether Ive gushed similarly in the past, but this has been stellar.). It started yesterday morning as I had a breakfast of homemade oatmeal with mountain blueberries and raspberries I had stopped in 40 mph winds atop 4,000-foot Avery Peak to pick (totally worth it--and of course you know theyre organic way up there). Then I packed up and got on the trail at the ripe old hour of 11:45 am. Even when faced with getting stuck in the dark at the end of the day, I just love the solitude in the morning hours with my tent, the sunshine, a good breakfast, some reading. Camp was pretty populated the night before (the infamous Bubble--a large group of hikers mowing down the trail somewhat in unison--has caught up to me), but you can bet they were all long gone by the time I curled up with my coffee and my nook. I hiked for a couple of hours and stopped for lunch before the hunger got me. On the wide-open rock expanses atop Little Bigelow Peak, I could see Sugarloafs massive trail system to the South, and picturesque Flagstaff Lake to the North. I planted myself on that rock, chose the mountain view, and started in on lunch--a salad freshly mixed with mayo, mustard, and potato and egg I boiled the night before. I added fresh chopped onion, spinach, arugula. That took an hour. I got a little suntan. Then onward. Another blueberry patch distracted me, and I picked a bag full for this mornings oatmeal. More hiking, and I met up with some hikers I knew who were going back to a free hostel that night and suggested I might be able to join them and get dropped back off in the same spot in the morning. It was the same place I had stopped for dinner a couple of days ago and seen the rainbow. This plan sounded good, but when Tom, the trail angel arrived, there really wasnt room for one more. I could have sat of someones lap, but I figured to press on; I hadnt done many miles that day after all. I ended up at Flagstaff Lake campsite after an 8-mile day, set up my tent on the rocky beach, inches from the water, and watched the sunset get prettier while dinner cooked. Then I fell asleep listening to the Loons horn and cry. This morning, they were playing in the lake, splashing around and laughing when I woke up. More blueberries in my oatmeal, a couple of fried eggs, a sweet pepper provolone pork sausage and more coffee while I write this. And its not even 9:30! Look at me!
Posted on: Wed, 20 Aug 2014 13:33:31 +0000
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