Dome Land Wilderness.
Mosquitos encourage us to put
up the tarp tent.
Finally, it appeared that we might actually exchange dry desert conditions for the kind of mountains that we actually think about when we think of the Sierra. (After all, it has been 40 days and 40 nights. It would be rather fitting.) We also crossed Chimney Creek, the first creek that was actually running and deeper than 6 inches since the San Gabriels.
We also saw a note in a trail register from three hikers who had started before us and were ahead by a couple of days. They had written that they had run across poison oak and had a terrible rash and some kind Forest Service firemen had taken them into Ridgecrest for treatment. We hadn't seen any poison oak in a long time (but then, we hadn't ventured off the trail to any of the springs either...could it be Purple Poodle Dog-itis instead, we wondered? We hoped not. So far we had escaped the plague.
This day was actually one of the least remarkable of the entire trip...no fighting, no near-death encounters, no weird people, no hot weather...makes for boring reading. I know, boo...hiss. What can we do? Don't worry, I'm sure tomorrow will bring plenty of those things. Stand by.