[Day 77] Seneca Lake

I never get enough sleep in town. I will avoid detailing too much about my mundane town chores, but of course they consumed the time I had upon arrival. Some of the chores are great; do not misinterpret. I enjoy fixing gear, pushing the limits on how much food my belly holds and how close time wise I cram meals, and cleaning myself and my clothes. The worst part is likely cleaning my socks. No matter how many wash cycles or how potent of cleaners I use, the smell of dead skin, vinegar, and damp feet is permanent.

I wrapped up my duties at the Jackalope Motor Lodge around 11am. Miraculously, the camera — the one that went for a swim in the creek due to my petty log crossing — is regaining functionality slowly, but surely, as it drys out. By this morning, the camera turns on, the screen displays, and the telescoping lens extends and retracts. And, the best sign of all, I can snap cloudy photos that make you feel like your in the steam of a sauna, no matter the location. There’s visible water in the lens, and I hope a few days in rice while carried on my walk to Dubois will suck any remaining moisture out.

After checking out, I headed for a late breakfast of huevos rancheros at the local Mexican joint. It did not disappoint. I headed for the post office, only to find it was closed. I wanted to drop my puffy jacket along with a few nonessentials, so I headed to the library to print postage. The Sublette County Library was one of the nicest library facilities I’ve used — movies, computers, books, quiet, leather chairs, great Wifi and more. I should use the library more often.

I hopped on a computer, did some blogging and website work, printed my postage, and sent off my gear. By now, it was a bit after 2pm. Time for lunch.

Fried rice sounded filling, and the Chinese place offered up a big serving. But, as was the case in Rawlins at McDonalds, this was no peaceful meal. I sat at booth, and an older man approached. Without asking, he sat at my table and told me I was traveling man and he had stories for me. Rick babbled at me for over an hour — stories of his multiple wives, child custody issues, traveling the continents, social security, his jobs, massage therapy classes in China, the Trans-Siberian Railroad, the list goes on. His thought and continuity was incoherent at times. I wavered between wanting to laugh my ass off and calling for the check and leaving. Just as it seemed he was through, Rick would say “let’s see… what else can I tell you…” and next thing I know he’s telling me about how he bought his first motor bike in New Zealand and drove against six lanes of oncoming traffic. Anyway, he promised a ride to the trailhead, so I sat through it all. I paid my bill and used the restroom. Rick was paying his bill when I went into the restroom. Two minutes later, Rick was gone. I was gypped.

Excuse my language, but why the fuck do these old men choose to attack me with their ramblings? I see it all — conservative and liberal, educated and uneducated, rich and poor. And, the assumption of these men is I see eye-to-eye with their perspectives. They interpret my beliefs and perspectives even before I open my mouth, but I don’t get to open my mouth because they jabber to extremes. Is it the hair?

Anyway, I grabbed a sandwich for dinner and threw my thumb up to get to Elkhart Trailhead. It was 5pm, so nobody was headed for the trailhead. A nice woman, headed for Half Moon Lake just outside of Pinedale on the way to Elkhart, took me down the road a ways. But, I realized this screwed me over — I was now six miles out of town with nobody driving the road to Elkhart, only to the lake. After 30 minutes of waiting, I took an offer for a hitch back into town — at least I wouldn’t be sleeping on the side of the road.

Back in town, I contacted a local who left his number at the lodge offering hikers rides to the trail. Paul, going by the trail name of Rerun, had completed the Colorado Trail twice and was going for a third walk of it, the PCT, the AT a couple times, and quite a few other walks. He gave me a ride up to Elkhart, and like so many people I’ve met, provided talking points about the Appalachian Trail.

By 6pm, I was walking with the goal of making it ten miles to Little Seneca Lake, where I merge back with the CDT. Undeniably, it was a pretty hike with good trail.

I made it to the junction with the CDT around 9pm. I hung my food bag, which took me a while since I haven’t done a hang in years and I was using a new Z-Packs hanging kit that I don’t like too much. The provided waxed (or whatever coating this is) line works poorly.

I crawled into my tent and found something had crawled onto me. A tick had just started to bit into my calve, but hadn’t dug. I pulled him and burned him with my lighter.

Tomorrow, I’ll head for an alternate route along Titcomb Basin to hit Knapsack Col — two places I have heard extraordinary recommendations of.

Signing off,

Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)