Lake Edison Trail Junction - Rosemarie Meadow

It's becoming clear to us both that we may not have prepared for the trip in certain vital ways. First, our knowledge of exit points seems to have escaped our memories. Although this makes it harder to jump ship, it also scares me when we descend things like Bear Ridge. Second, our collective knowledge of foot-health and maintenance is pretty low. Since blisters and bruises have been plaguing us, it seems like some research on the subject would have been in order. Both these things seem like areas of knowledge we should have in order to survive in the woods for three weeks.

But this lack of knowledge makes me wonder about a whole host of other things I might not know. If someone gets bitten by a rattle snake, does the other person really walk them out to safety? For how long? What are the symptoms of giardia? Can Lucy really go ahead and eat mountain blueberries? I don't ask these questions on the trail constantly, but they come up every now and then and I realize that this 200-mile walk could be pretty dangerous. The flashes of recognition about our vulnerability out here scare me every once in a while.

Then we meet people on the trail, and I feel a lot closer to society. Today we met some people who are camping near us and will be camping near us until the end of the trail. The primary concern was no longer our vulnerability, but paying them back for the oatmeal cookies they gave us in the middle of the day. Lucy decided mini Snickers were a good repayment, so we ate them around their campfire for a while. I wish I had a name for them, but all I can come up with is Oatmeal Cookie -- which only describes one of the 3 guys -- or The Hans -- because they were all traveling solo until they met in Red's Meadow and decided to travel together. Or maybe they're just Team Anti-Vulnerability, because having people around out here is really necessary to staying sane.

So that's probably one of a million reason I'm glad to be doing the trail with Lucy. Even though we get spaced out on the trail or stay silent as we trudge through the last 500-foot climb, I'm thankful that she's willing to entertain whatever ridiculous comments I make at ten thousand feet. It makes even the most monotonous, dusty, or difficult parts of the trail a lot of fun.


[Matt]
Miles: 11.2
Total: 98.8