Building up and crashing.

Day FortyEight, August 4, 27.5 Miles
At Mile 988, Poptart 335/1000
They awoke.
It was cold. But they were alive.
No Bears had come.
Ha. What Bears?
The sun warmed them quickly as they followed the winding and twisting Snake upstream, eventually leaving it and Yellowstone behind.
They entered the Teton Wilderness.
As they climbed, the Tits of America appeared on the Western horizon. Grand, majestic, massive.
Upward.
Onward.
Buzzed by a helicopter on a high meadow.
Then down.
And down. New switchbacks extending the pain. Dragging it.
Dragging.
Finally. Parting of the Waters.
Where the water parts.
Pacific.
Atlantic.
We lunched between. Then the boat race,.
Yer.
The horse highway. Everyone hates it. Days and days of horse widened trail they say.
But it's only seven miles?
Whatever.
A waterfall below the trail.
Water crashing and tumbling over them.
Clean, relaxed, happy.
Above them.
The clouds. Smashing, flying, dropping, here, there, on, away.
Up the Soda Fork.
They are happy.