My body was still in recovery mode today, though I felt a bit better. Carrot caught up to me as I was packing camp, and I learned from him that I had somehow passed Pockets back around Mt. Adams. Carrot and I walked together for a few miles, both of us choosing a relaxed pace. We passed Buck Lake in the early morning mist (pictured), and shortly thereafter Carrot stopped for a rest.
I pushed on alone, spending most of the day climbing and cruising exposed ridgelines. I got a nice view above Dewey Lakes (pictured) just before highway 410 at Chinook Pass. At the pass I came across a construction project which involved the renovation of an old foot bridge over the highway. The new bridge (pictured) consists of an enormous tree, split lengthwise, to form the side railings. These are held in place by four large pillars of hand cut stone. I met the mason in charge of the project. He has been a stonemason for 15 years, and this is his third and final year on this project. It was impressive to see him work with precision and skill at a craft so ancient, all the while the vehicles of a modern age zoomed by below us.
As I continued to hike up to Sourdough Gap I was able to get a good view back over the pass (pictured). From there the rest of the day was a relative cruise, and I watched similar views go by as the miles slid past. Late in the day a stiff breeze brought cloud cover, and for a while I was afraid it might rain. I actually left my poncho in the hiker box at White Pass, so I no longer have rain gear. I figure I have a pack cover, so my pack will stay dry. Other than that I'll just get wet and change into dry clothes when I get to camp. Or, if it gets really bad, I'll wrap up in my tent fly and make do.
Eventually the clouds eased off, making for a spectacular light show. Sunlight streamed through gaps in the cloud cover (pictured). Later, as the sun set, low flying strands of cloud lit up in shades of gray-blue and soft peach. The woods I was hiking through looked as though someone was adjusting the hue in some cosmic version of Photoshop. I would be hiking along and a ray of light would infuse everything with more than a hint of cyan. Then I would pass into shadows, and the colors would overcorrect until the world appeared through a blue lens. At one point, when a particularly large cloud passed over, the entire sky turned a faded yellow. What an evening for hiking.
After a 33 mile day I settled on Louisiana Saddle to camp. The spot I chose is an escarpment of sandstone, the side of which is eroding in a river of rust and oatmeal into the basin below. I should have a clear view of the sunrise from here. In fact, I've already had a treat - a gorgeous plump moon, twice its normal size, floating like a ripe orange on the distant wave of blue-black hills. I will miss days like this when the trip is finally done.
I also had fun chatting with something that looked like a marmot, only bigger. Back on Mt. Adams I heard a whistle. It sounded like a brief toot on an emergency whistle, so I had gone looking to see if anyone needed help. When it kept up at an irregular tempo and at varying distances I realized it must be a bird. Well today I finally met the whistle blower (pictured). He was a chubby ball of fur that I nicknamed Tub-Tub. You see, all marmot looking creatures are named some variation of Tubby. Tubs McGee, Mr. Tubblesworth, Tubby Tub-Face, etc. Anyway, he sat on a pile of rocks and whistled at me. Now my chest strap has a built in emergency whistle, so I whistled right back at him. Sounded identical to me, but I could tell he was wondering why I talked like my IQ and my age were the same number. After a while he decided I was harmless, so he let me get pretty close. And that is my story about conversing with animals. I know, it's like I'm the Marmot Whisperer, right?
