Wha? Morning already? Someone waved me over so I joined the line and had a huge meal of fresh fruit, waffles, and coffee. A group of psychics had rented the place and fed me all this for free! Someone tried to give me money, but I asked them to give it to the hostel instead. Finally left town at 1pm for a splendid walk back to the mountains. Got to Roaring Fork campground just as a huge storm hit so I chilled with the camp hosts under their awning and cooked supper. After the storm blew over I boogied up the high, lonesome trail and walked ’til dark before finding a flat spot. Dark is coming a lot earlier! After I set up my tarp it started raining again – damn, my luck won’t quit. Ten minutes earlier and I would have been setting up in the rain, which is never fun. Got ahold of my aunt and uncle in Boulder, so we set up a rendezvous in Silverthorne. Looking forward to seeing them but I hope my hiker stink doesn’t knock them over. And I vow, right here and now, that I’m not leaving that town without a new shirt. This rag I’m wearing isn’t fit to clean a bicycle. The sleeves are hanging on by stitches, there are holes sprouting in the sides, and a huge chunk of fabric is gone from the back. The fabric has the consistency of tissue paper and I’m afraid a strong wind might just blow it off my torso in a poof of threads. Without a shirt I’d lose my uber sexy farmer tan and that, my friends, is unthinkable.
- Starting Location: musings
- Destination: Roaring Fork and beyond