At Mile 2426, Poptart 866/1000
Cold last night. Sort of. Not the coldest night of the trail. Not even close. Snow Mesa has that distinction (un)comfortably. Problem is, my sleeping bag is very tired, there is very little loft left in the shoulder area. No fun. Had some more trail to place our feet on this morning. A rare treat in this fine state. Very up and down, another rare treat. Perhaps the last elk we'll encounter too. Some big racks out there if you leave the roads...Pretty tired, RT got well ahead and was waiting for me at Davis Spring. I'd gotten a heads up on the quality of the spring but could not remember what that heads up actually was. RT had a strange look on his face which did little to help my hopeless memory. As soon as I peered into the tank below the dry spring pipe I was struck with a wave of memory and dead animal stink. Three dead squirrels. Sprawled out like a macabre pile of one-drink-too-many sixteen year-olds (wait, I mean eighteen, no twentyone here, right?), gross. That's what Wrong Way had told me. Luckily, thanks to a note from our friends Hawkeye and Kombucha who'd been there a couple days earlier, we found the spring source and it's barely-there trickle. Had lunch while the seep filled our bottles, took well over an hour in the end. The afternoon was hot and cruisy. A cross country shortcut filled our shoes, socks and feet with pointy blades of grass. Sucked. Made camp before sundown in a nice grove of Ponderosa, wonderful.
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