4th of August . . . “Dad’s roll”

Vogelsang junction.

10 a.m. and going pleasantly slow, watching others come and go, up and down the trail. The morning obstacle will just be getting across the river/outlet. 

Last night I spent a good half an hour in the dark, trying to set my bear bags. I am not very good but––and in spite of hardly sleeping all night in anticipation––no bears came round. 

After i leave here, I’ll spend a slow afternoon on Donahue and then rumble on down to wherever for the night. 

I’m looking at less than ten miles a day, at least until and if I start to cut it close at the end. 

I was glad to see the morning light, but it was so gray I thought that last nights clouds had formed into a mostly overcast sky. 

I thought I’d have to get out the rain hood, but I finally peeked up at the western lip of the mountains and the crest was covered in sunshine. 

I think I’ll just wait for someone else to lead the way over the river. 

12 p.m. and sitting below Amelia Earhart Peak, looking out over the great meadow. 

12, 13, 14 . . . below Donahue looking down into the valley and up into the snowy peaks. 

7:20 p.m. wanted to go to the top of Donahue, but the clouds looked and still do––dangerous.

Better to sit here on this very nice point and look at the thunder from a distance––like it’s probably all the way out on 395. 

Nothing seems the same––no trail yet looks like I remember it. 

And it’s amazing to think that last time, we came from the valley and up and over Donahue in one day––but of course this is the new, more reflective and slower, Bob. 

___________________________________________________________________________

And I read that last paragraph and think, what the hell? . . . as I know that it doesn’t make sense, that I didn’t come up from the valley, or even Lyell and go over Donahue in the same day. 

Some days are garbled and waiting to be cleared up by the next. I have no recollection of staying at the Vogelsang junction. I’ve even found it very hard and damn impossible to figure out where, exactly, I spent that first night with good old, “Skot” and every time I pass through that general area, before the switch-backs, I am looking up and around, trying to find those cables that we had hung our bags from, but no luck. Maybe they took them down once they enacted the bear can policy. 

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