|Misty, rainy vista|
Also the thrill of it, the experience, because it is a novelty and not drudgery. And in the misty morning, a deer, a doe, jumped across the trail in front of me. Vistas appeared and disappeared in wreaths of fog. I forget about just how present I am with nature out here, or forget to write about it, what with my complaints about mileage and thru-hikers. Still, I’m in the wild, above the highway roar that occasionally comes from a thousand feet below.
I surprise deer sometimes, hiking without poles. I seek all-red birds, black-and-white striped birds (Baltimore orioles?). On a sunny day, a garter snake slithered across my feet, surprised. He felt weightless, like he floated on air.
Tonight I camp with Euchre, from Michigan (natch), and Superman, who does a headstand atop every mountain. We discuss gear and climate change, one of many conversations I’ve been having with fellow hikers about climate change. I feel like an evangelist or a prophet, someone obnoxious at least, how I bring every conversation back to it. But it is inescapable, in my own mind and in my written and spoken dialog. I can’t stop thinking or writing or talking about it.
The afternoon, after the rain cleared, was lovely hiking weather, and since I packed in a shelter and camp in a shelter, my gear is completely dry.