First sound that registered in my fog of waking: Dangermouse wishing me a happy birthday! While I cooked breakfast, Gravitron walked up to our camp and stayed to eat with us. He became the first of many that day to hand me a folded note from Danger that she had slipped him – all together these notes would spell “H-a-p-p-y-B-d-a-y” but each letter represented a kind word about me from Jess. I hiked behind some loggers with horses most of the morning, and the loggers, of course, eventually gave me one of these birthday notes. One wildly ascetic cowboy that I passed even sang me Happy Birthday!At the sandy shored Miller Lake, I had my obligatory, first polar bear swim as a 27 year old (Jess has it on video). Not long after we started back on the day’s miles, my moving at a trail-blazing speed to get across a quick moving creek on slippery rocks ended in a nasty and kind of spastic looking spill in the water. 
I could tell by the look on Dangermouse’s face that the fall looked worse than it was. I was wet but my inflatable sleeping mat took the impact of the rocks for me. Though the sleeping mat has three visible holes and is no longer inflatable, I emerged unscathed from what could have been a serious bruisin'. We sat down right there by the creek and had a lovely lunch looking up at gray, cragged rock faces while my things dried. I’m so hungry now at meal time.
The climb from 8500 ft to 10150 ft at Benson Pass felt long but was perhaps my favorite scenery yet – New Mexico like greenery and rock sculptures were ominously watched over by Yosemite’s monster peaks on all sides. I felt so soaringly happy at the summit. Jess’ birthday notes to me made me feel so driven and outgoing– I think my happiness was partly feeling empowered by her confidence in me. Perhaps the other part was my belief that there on this particular summit in the Sierras was exactly where I wanted to be.
I could tell by the look on Dangermouse’s face that the fall looked worse than it was. I was wet but my inflatable sleeping mat took the impact of the rocks for me. Though the sleeping mat has three visible holes and is no longer inflatable, I emerged unscathed from what could have been a serious bruisin'. We sat down right there by the creek and had a lovely lunch looking up at gray, cragged rock faces while my things dried. I’m so hungry now at meal time.The climb from 8500 ft to 10150 ft at Benson Pass felt long but was perhaps my favorite scenery yet – New Mexico like greenery and rock sculptures were ominously watched over by Yosemite’s monster peaks on all sides. I felt so soaringly happy at the summit. Jess’ birthday notes to me made me feel so driven and outgoing– I think my happiness was partly feeling empowered by her confidence in me. Perhaps the other part was my belief that there on this particular summit in the Sierras was exactly where I wanted to be.
On the downhill, the bugs appeared with la fuerza, particularly once we descended in to a swampy bog. At the time of the bug invasion, dressed as a Haz Mat worker in my headnet, I was having a freaking meltdown over a blister on the bottom of my foot; there was definitely a sort of break building in both of us (though I was losing it a little more; Dangermouse handles the mosquito onslaughts better than I do). She spotted a rough but suitable enough campsite and we jumped on the chance to just stop walking. Our fire ameliorated the bug crisis as well as our moods.
There is a small tornado of moods and possibilities in each day on the trail. On a day where I achieved no small amount of bliss, I later found myself spouting off at the mouth to Jess about how this day as too trying and I was tired of the hike. Maybe I am a bit emotionally labile, but the trail can truly sway a day.
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