Unstealthing [mile 2020.1; SOBO 1001.7]
Well, I did some math. Tossing in the resupply bottlenecks, I’m almost definitely not going to make 11/21. But maybe, lol. It’ll be 11/21, 11/22, or 11/23.
Anyhoo. Where did I sleep last night? Oh, right! That pretty little campsite near the pond and the waterfall! After dark a mumbler showed up. Outside my tent he mumbled his way down the hill to the pond and, I suppose, camped there. This morning he crunched past my tent at about 5:30; he was sighing instead of mumbling. It’s getting odd out here—odder than usual, anyway.
I hit the trail at 6:30 (I looked at my watch!). Aaannnddd… the day was more of the same. Leaves, rocks, wind, gray sky. November. I’m having a motivation problem and it was worse than usual today. I’m not sure why.
The trail gave me some pretty views: farm-type country, golden patchwork.
At around noon I arrived at the (in)famous 501 shelter for water and to use the winter privy (which was a mile away and ALL SORTS of disgusting), and when I came back… I had a visitor!
A lean, mean, gray cat! OK, so it was cute as a button, soft and puffy, not long out of kittenhood and obviously spoiled rotten all summer by hikers, because it wasn’t exactly shy. It literally kept jumping onto my shoulder from all sorts of impossible angles—from the ground, from the picnic table, from my pack, everywhere. It climbed my legs with its sharp kitten daggers. It wanted to be HELD. Which, in cat, means it wanted food. I sacrificed some cheese to the cause, and I gave it some lovin’. And if I were home, I probably would have stolen it. But it probably weighed four pounds, and I would have had to mush it to get it in my pack.
After that, guess what? I walked! I made about another five or six miles, but that was it. I was done. I’m short of my goal today. Blah.
But it is what it is. One day at a time.