1 Jul
(Mon) The horses walked into the
yard yesterday eve for the first time this season so I locked them up to speed
today’s departure. Got on the trail at 10:30 and met an interesting pair just
over a mile from the cabin. They were well off the trail, dressed in drab
colors, so it was lucky I even saw them. Had a delightful talk; they were happy
and at ease, enjoying the day. Frank, mid 40s, was a geologist living in Ruth, of all places. [An obscure not-even-a-town in central Nevada, outside the
notorious “Area 51” (famous among UFO enthusiasts)] His partner spoke with a
strange accent; Australian, but with hard “r”s. I figured he’d been living in
the states for many years but, when I asked, turns out to be the other way
‘round. He’s a So-Cal boy (like me…). Old surfer, raised in Huntington Beach.
He and Frank had gone to highschool there together. Now this fella lives in
Australia and imports sunglasses for the tourist trade; has a wife and kids
there. I commented on how we never would’ve
imagined how things would work out: here’s three urban-spawned southern
Californians…one becomes a geologist in a lonely part of Nevada, one sells
cheap sunglasses on the other side of the planet (that’s something they don’t teach in college!) and one is a ranger
hiding out in the mountains. Ah, how the wheel doth turn! Where it stops,
nobody knows….
….And
one other thing: I want to start recording those less-than-romantic aspects of
my profession, the things that would discourage just any old Thomas, Richard,
or Harold from wanting to steal my job. This has been a neglected element in
this log. ◦◦◦◦◦ FOR INSTANCE: After getting back to the cabin on the 29th,
I’d just walked over 12 miles and done a bunch of trailwork. My back & arms
& shoulders were knotted up from shoveling dirt and hurling rock off the
trail. I was soaked with sweat. My skin was coated with this ungodly sleaze
that was a combination of sunscreen, bug juice, sweat, dust, dead skin cells, and
crushed mosquito residue. The mirror revealed that I had mosquito remains on my
face and shoulders and even shmeered on my hat. I’d imagine some folks would not have enjoyed my complex aroma just
then. Feet hurt and my crotch was chafed from too much sweat and friction, with
pieces of bark and pine needles lodged in my skivvies and ass crack. Dirt in my
ears and under my nails and between my toes. This “stickiness” finally comes to
my attention once I’ve come into the cabin and gotten (mostly) out of the bugs
and out of my filthy clothes. It’s fairly disgusting and a good reason to go
dunk my soiled self in the river. So that’s what I did.
©2014 Tim Forsell 8 Dec 2014
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