Downhill is the logical way...

Day NinetyFive, September 20, 17 Miles
At Mile 1904, Poptart 698/1000
I knew that whatever decision I made last night would be the wrong one. Tarp or Cowboy. Yeah I made the wrong one. Yeah I set up my tarp. Yeah it stayed dry and above freezing (though barely). Yeah it was tarp-flappingly windy. Like flappingly enough to wake me up. Repeatedly. Dang.
Awoke to clouds forming over our future and none of us were 100%, especially Hawkeye. Down to Weminuche Pass where we investigated alternates, then decided we all had enough food to extend our time in the San Juans another day. Because it would be a good idea to slow down a little and go easy on ourselves. Because the weather had been awesome and the scenery was likewise, and both would remain so, right? Right?
So our goal for the day suddenly became a simple 12 miles away. Crossing Weminushe's wet meadoweyness, featuring a slightly-too-far-to-jump channel of undeterminable deepness, we then headed back up towards our mighty divide. On the way I spotted a log floating upstream, I realised it was a Beaver. Got above trees about the same time the skies opened up with a short, heavy burst of wet rain. Which was a pleasure. Along, down, across and back up. Up to the first in a series of basins that were killing me. These are places I will remain forever happy I was able to experience. Photos, words, stories, not even close. But anyway, we were about to round another lake when a second storm rolled on over, this one brought the fight. Hail. Cowering under tiny pine trees that protected us way more than they ought to have done, we laughed, chatted and looked out at the lightning and rapidly whitening ground. Smile.
I still really enjoy this time of year and this weather, even being out in it. It helps when the rain is brief and the sun dries you out again. You can feel the winter coming, summer is leaving, very quickly, heading south (so am I...). Bare mountains waiting for snow, soon to be bare trees. Yellow, gold, orange and brown.
The storm passed, they always do, and we headed off again. I got thinking on that famous hiker quote, "The worst day on trail is better than the best days at work". Get a new job man. Or hike more, 'cause you clearly ain't not had no truly bad days out here. I do love it, but some days just suck. Not that this day did... wow, I am rambling...
That smile grew bigger as I topped the ridge to meet RT, standing under a tiny patch of blue sky and gazed at all before me. Hail thick on the ground and my beat up, treadless shoes made for a slippery, slushy drop down to Squaw Pass where we found a suitable camp. Being only 4:30, a true gem of rarity for through hikers, RT and I decided to explore the pass and see if we couldn't find a better site before Kombucha and Hawkeye came down. We didn't but it was fun all the same. The skies had cleared but hail still blanketed the ground. Turns out my tyvek is not as waterproof as it once was. A pack of Coyotes just ran yelping and howling across the pass...
Before this section, when I was asked about the San Juans, our big Southbound obstacle, I said I didn't care. If the weather was bad, I'd roadwalk around and not give it a second thought. It's just another range in the divide, how amazing can it be? I still think that, but how amazing can it be? Well.
I don't want to be anywhere else, but you could have been here with me.