Day 59 (Pete)

I had a dream last night. No, rather, it was a premonition. Dyl and I were inside the main hall of a great cathedral. It was very ornate with stained glass, wood carved banisters and a very high ceiling. Thousands of people filled the place. A popish figure stood at the pulpit giving mass. All very Catholic, this scene, very European. Dylan was off in the sea of anonymous bodies. I was sitting near the entry way on some sort of random table one usually finds cluttering the wings of such grandiose buildings. With me was a bright yellow inflated inflatable rubber ducky. It had some sort of bright red shirt or costume with an emblazoned gold lightning bolt on it. The ducky was me. I was still there next to it but it was me. Like a voodoo doll or talisman, the ducky and I were interchangeable. A box was being passed around with odds and ends, mostly cloths. In it were two immaculately shiny inflatable black patent leather boots. Ducky’s size. Each had wings off either side like Hermes’s sandals. Each was emblazoned with the gold bolt to match the shirt. The boot were very very powerful. They were, for Ducky, like Green Lanterns ring from Marvel Comics. Without it Green Lantern was just a guy in a funny costume. With it, he was a super hero. I put the boots on Ducky and began to pump him with my hand. He squeaked like those inflatable animals do. The sound filled the space; yet, everyone ignored it instead focusing on the sermon. Dyl’s ears too were pricked by the squeaks. He bolted up from his chair gesticulating excitedly and pointing. “The Ducky’s got the boots! The Ducky’s got the boots!” It was a very powerful moment. Everyone stopped, including the pope guy, and looked at Dylan and listened to the squeaks. No one seemed to understand. They were only intrigued by the interruption. The moment passed. Dyl looked around silently and sat back down. Mass continued.

Today was a yo-yo. We went from 8,540 up to 9,560 down to 8,510 up to 10,140 WAY down to 7,560 back up to 9,180 and finally down to camp at 7,960. All this transgressed over twenty five miles and thirteen creek fords. The days are getting longer and there is less snow, hence the mileage. We are, in addition becoming very physically powerful people. The mountains transformed us into Joe and Ted Superhiker. Deep canyons cut awesome scars across the land. There are many deer. We saw four today. They are, for the most part, nonchalant. One of them curiously checked us out from as close as thirty feet while we sat cooking dinner. After wading Matterhorn Creek, we looked upstream and saw a deer doing the same only headed the other way. Dylan yelled to it, “Don’t fight the current.” We have mastered river fords. After painfully traversing a sloping hard snow bank above a roaring current we opted for an early cross. The log felled across the river would have made a dry safe cross at another time in the year. As it was, we walked across it as two feet of water spilled over the top. There was a time when crossing a log or wading two foot deep current would have caused at least a moments hesitation. The combination was interesting; yet, it failed to pose much of an obstacle.

Things are nice and peaceful once again. I am beginning to loose feeling in the toes on my left foot. This has caused me some concern. It is, however, too early to guess as to how serious this could be. It doesn’t affect my walking, just feels funny. The light now is fading. Its bedtime.

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