CDT Day 75 (8/1/23)
Miles 1801.8 (Blue line 15.3)- 1824.2 (Red line 2085.2) (22.4 miles)
Verbatim
My bowels today have been a bane from hell. My farts, which occur constantly, are so incredibly bad they make it uncomfortable to breathe. I kid you not. They smell like natural gas. Like non-biological gas. I shared a water source with Bovine GYN (yes that was her trail name) and would literally get up to fart. She laughed out loud when she heard how low, long, and guttural one sounded. Her response; “We’ve all be there on trail”. She was eating pink cake mix with water for dinner. I might need to try that. Although she said it was too sweet and said she’s trying muffin mix next. Her friend from the AT swears by it.
Spending time with Chuck and Loraine was so wonderful. They gave me so good of a gift. I must have eaten $100 worth of food. They drove far for me as well. They were kind. Chuck accidentally ran over Loraine’s toes with the truck as we were leaving this morning. Thankfully she seems to be ok. She was very forgiving. Church was very remorseful. They’re a kind couple to one another. On the drive they shared their excitement for a concert coming up at a local ranch under the cotton woods. A cowboy singer is doing a show for one hundred people at a friend’s ranch. It’s the height of their summer every year. Just $25 tickets.
Tonight I may have come as close as I will to seeing or interacting with a Mountain Lion on this trail. I heard one screeching from across a valley. Its calls are hauntingly awesome. I had to stop and listen.
Walking the dirt roads toady was hot and hard. Not motivating at all. But once I was on trail and especially red line trail things got good and enjoyable. I can’t complain. Camp tonight is in a meadow with mosquitoes. But they’re not the worst. And it’s windy and cool. I can’t complain. I’ll fart all night long… would it attract or dissuade a Bear to smell like death?
Post Note
I met two female cyclists coming down the dirt road I’d been climbing in the morning. We stopped and chatted for a bit. It wasn’t anything special, but I just noticed how simple and happy things seemed for them. They’d bought some cheap “post-Covid” bikes on whatever variation of Craigslist was their preference. They’d both scored deals, had each other, and now were off on this adventure. Things had just worked out for them and now here they were. Happy. They didn’t appear to me as the most skillful, adventurous, or experienced travelers. But that didn’t matter. They were going on this big summer’s trip. Their trip was much smaller than mine. But they weren’t antagonized by a need for grandiosity. They didn’t struggle with this sort of chronic need to keep moving at the expense of relationality. I watched them bike away. I think they were wearing crocs. How do you do that?
I climbed up that road and then peeled off onto a sort of nondescript hiking trail which would lead me along a ridge, over a pass, and then down to the red line of the CDT. I had to leave the nondescript trail at a point to do some bushwhacking. Not bad bushwhacking at all, but still bushwhacking. Loathe to put in more effort, since I was tired and bloated from my day off (funny how days off make you realize you need more days off), I followed the trail a little too long and realized I’d have to cut downhill. I had to do the bushwhacking anyways. I sort of gave up in that moment. I just sat down and wanted to die. I’m not joking. It wasn’t really worth anything. I just sat there and appreciated that I didn’t have to go any further. I could actually just stop. Either the will to live would come back or it wouldn’t and there wouldn’t be any problem either way. Whatever was right would unfold.
Your welcome for all the talk about pooping and farting. This is trail talk, and as my conversation with Bovine GYN shows, we aren’t phased by it. Consider it an indication that you’re part of the family. How do you think she was doing the next day after eating pink cake mix for dinner?