Saturday, after having gotten situated at Ohanapecosh, we began to realize how much stuff we’d left at home. We then took a stroll through the “Grove of the Patriachs”, a small stand of old-growth that was somehow overlooked earlier in the century, and has been conveniently provided with a raised, level planked walkway.
Then we experienced the joy of woodfire chicken cookery in the dark.
One thing went right, finally – Spencer and I played together around the fire and it was a good, organic thing. I hope Spence wants to pick up where we left off last year.
Sunday dawned with the plop-plop sound of water dripping from the trees on to our tent. We were in the louds, and the clouds stayed with us all day, even on the drive home. We’d royally fucked up by not stopping at Paradise on the way in – when we arrived there on Sunday, after breaking camp, it was solid white everywhere you looked – a visibility distance of up to a hundred feet from time to time.
We still went for a long walk up Paradise’s broad and paved paths – looking at maps of the trail network, I think we made it to within a half-mile of Icicle Creek, where I heard scuttlebutt that the cloud-layer ended.