"Talk to the hand," says a cranky
Amy.
Scott eagerly skips down the
the trail, enjoying the view.
Amy raises her poles in
triumph as she nears the
summit of Baden-Powell.
A view of Mt. San Antonio and
a 2000-year-old pine from the
summit of Mt. Baden-Powell.
One of the few pictures of us
together on the summit.
As we headed toward the spur trail to the spring, Jesse came bounding out of the woods toward us. We were all glad to see each other. (You are probably wondering, "Who is this Jesse- a dog perhaps?") I didn't mention him earlier, but he is a hiker that we first met in Big Bear City at the laundromat. He started his trip at San Gorgornio Pass and is headed for Tuolumne Meadows. He had stayed in Big Bear longer than us, so we hadn't seen him since. Then we resupplied at Cajon Pass and he didn't, so here he was. He had been camped just below the campground and we all went to the spring together.
We all talked about the fire. (which was now out) Jesse had just come through that area when it broke out, so it was a good incentive to hike fast up the hill. From his vantage point, he was able to watch all the coordination efforts to extinguish it. Then he went down the mountain to resupply in Wrightwood and we continued on.
We hiked past ski resorts that morning and then, the trail ascended Mt. Baden Powell, named after the founder of the Boy Scouts. We stopped half way up for lunch at a little spring and sat eating right on the tree-shaded edge of the mountain gazing out at the view. The spring was icy cold. We made Crystal Light and I actually got a cold headache while drinking it. Then we continued up to the summit. I was really tired and the climb took me a long time. No sooner had I reached the top and we were taking pictures when two people came up. They must have been right behind me and I'm embarrassed to report that one of them was a 6-year-old child. Zach, the super hiker, had just climbed Telescope Peak in Death Valley which is a 14 mile round trip and now here was putting me to shame. Thanks kid.
(His dad did mention that he had to carry him a bit at the beginning of the trail...I KNEW I was hiking with the wrong guy.) [You can probably guess what I was thinking. -Scott]
After chatting with him and his dad, we were off once more. Luckily, our trail headed in another direction, so I would suffer no further embarrassment.
It was a warm evening. We stopped for dinner by the side of the trail. I squatted like a chimpanzee stuffing warm Velveeta and crackers into my mouth with filthy hands. I thought about how I looked, but decided that I just didn't care. The picture would have been complete if Scott could have looked for nits in my hair. Hygiene and manners are seriously deteriorating out here, folks.
We then decided to camp right there. We didn't put the tent up. As we lay there, mosquitoes swarmed all over us. We zipped our bags up and lay in our bug hats. Scott lay there peacefully, sleeping. My bag became like a sauna, and I was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place: Be eaten or sweat to death. First I attempted to lie just in the silk sleeping bag liner on top of my sleeping bag. After being bit through the liner numerous times, I crawled back in my bag. Bathed in sweat, I burrowed deeper in my bag to escape them, and the stench of my unwashed body wafted up to greet me.
The situation was miserable and there was only one remedy: that's right, a good cry in my bug hat. So I did.
(Hey, Mom, wrong again...and you know what? I think my face got cleaner)
[I heard Amy's muffled sobs, touched her shoulder to comfort her and got a fierce "Leave...me...alone"! I decided it was best to retreat to my side of the ground cloth--Scott]