Awakening to a startling “WHUMP” on my tent fly, I checked my watch and decided it was still an hour too early to start the day. I rolled over.
“WHAM KABLAM KERPLOWIE.”
Then the distinctive, angry chatter of a squirrel. I could hear him nibbling away up there, then another air raid.
No rest for the wicked I suppose…
I was somewhat relieved when I caught up to two east coast boys (ATers) who had camped a few miles ahead of me along the ridge and any time they tried to talk between tents that same night, a squirrel would scream over top of them
they go silent, quiet squirrel, they try to talk, “REECHEEPCHEEP.”
Seriously rude little beasts. How about it fellow hikers? Let’s hear YOUR trail varmint tales.
The trail meandered for many miles along the forested flanks of Mt. Massive then Mt. Elbert. It was not flat. But the cooling Aspen groves and afternoon clouds offer relief from the heat.
Down toward Twin Lakes I finally traipsed, though somewhat encumbered by having forgotten my trekking poles at C&D’s. While my legs’ balancing muscles protest and are sore at the end of the day, we made it down to the lakes just fine. Then all the way around the lakes (which seemed unnecessary) affording a spectacular, sandy beach campsite.
Today I continue to climb. Got lost for an hour or so on a stupid make-believe trail that I knew better than to trust, but it was just so convenient and right there on the other side of the road…
Just as I was about to accost some loggers up the hill for directions, the trail found me and together we marched on merrily.
Up through Aspen and Pine, down along a desert scrub, exposed face into a long and spectacular glacial valley.
At the moment, I sit under the bridge at Clear Creek. Tired feet soaking in the cold water, a 2000 ft climb into the ancient moraines awaits. Followed by a major descent, then another 2000 ft climb. Someone eat an extra Coney Dog for me, please.
Comments (4)
Reepicheep lives.
Mt. Elbert’s the one we climbed when we camped on Turquoise lake by Leadville. Your mom has fond memories of reaching the summit only to run back down as a storm roiled in.
Sounds like you’re crankin out the miles and climbs. I’m thinking of you every day and love your stories. Wish I were with you.
Dad
Isn’t that where she gave herself the trail name “Squaw-she-who-flung-dung”?
my feet hurt reading your posts.
So Glad I got to hear this story in person and share my own Squirrel tale. dont forget the damn Varmit Marmots either 🙂 keep truckin Bethany… Hike the good Hike!