TRAIL DAY 80
Tue, May 10, 2016 The day under Keefer Oak dawned damp and dull. I said “dull” only for the alliteration. Dull isn’t dull when nature is your stage and you’re grateful to have a stage to strut out and a tale to tell. She’s the movable platform. You’re the actor – and whose an actor without a stage? When the curtain is pulled back on whatever the day has to offer, there is cause to be glad. “Dull” is just a special kind of beauty in a world full of grandeur.
Green pastures rose up from Keefer Oak beyond a fence on the far side of the trail. Cattle fed on the hillside and were undisturbed in their grazing as we passed beyond the fence and into their pasture in early morning.
In the bleakness of the day, colors were all the more colorful in fresh new growth which never ceased to attract my attention. A single flower, a single leaf stood out. In contrast, stone cairns rose as monuments in the forest to the industry of one or more random hikers. Ridgelines stood out to such an extent that, as I am writing, I had to find Google’s aerial view which taught that the trail was running parallel to an ocean swell of wave upon wave of undulating terrain.
Fortunately, by midday the sun was out enough to dry my gear stretched out over tree branches during a warm lunch break. Nature in her own good time providing what is needed to make things right. Wet gear doesn’t have to be carried forever. But then again, sun doesn’t have to last forever either.
It was probably around 4:00 to 4:30 p.m. when I was descending a long ridge and it began to rain. It was another one of those times when you ask yourself whether it’s going to last and whether you should get out your rain gear which only keeps you slightly less wet than without it. I opted to carry on without my gear and then didn’t the heavens open up. I hiked probably a mile or two in a downpour until I came to the Niday Shelter which was slightly off the trail to the east. The approach was to the back of the shelter with the opening facing away from the trail. I thought this would be a good place to “weather” the storm for a while but I was not the only one who had that idea. There was no room at the Inn.
The thought of a rest doesn’t always work out. I took a picture of the huddled masses including Justice and PB and someone took a picture of me. As soon as the memories were recorded, I said to the multitude, as the rain was easing slightly, “One way to dry out is to climb another mountain.”
So I did. Just another 4.4 miles to the crest of Brush Mountain. We hiked in intermittent mist and sun and I did dry out.
En route, I saw a most unusual bird’s egg on the ground and wondered what kind of creature produced this – until I realized it was a chicken. Someone had dropped a hard-boiled egg on the trail. I picked it up, not sure what I was going to do with it. I had heard that hard-boiled eggs keep for a very long time – some ate them frequently on the trail. They were delicious but the shells had to be buried if you had any conscience at all. I refrained and just carried the ovum to the summit which we reached around 8:15 p.m.
Under a sliver of a moon through tall mist-shrouded trees, I did the usual, pitched, cooked and turned in.
Day #80 Keefer Oak > Brush Mountain 13.1 miles