Day 57: Tsk, Tsk, Tsk

(Mile 813 to 831 = 18 miles)

Days blend together out here, but today, I must admit, stands out for me because I misbehaved all morning.  I had to scold myself a number of times as I climbed Mather Pass.  I will not; I will not; I will not ...

I almost ran plumb into this little marmot. He would not come with me.

I will not break my trowel ... the rest of the way.  The morning began with an emergency cat hole.  And in my hurry, I tried to pry a rock out of the hole -- which I did, with a fantastic pop.  But the pop was not the rock, it was my plastic trowel cracking in half.  In addition to everything I reported missing or broken yesterday, add a trowel -- a rather important piece of equipment for the LNT hiker.  Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Magenta paintbrush! A rare favorite.

I will not yell at anyone before 7 a.m.  We found Kindergarten Cop this morning around 6:45 a.m. after a short backtrack.  I (playfully) shout/scolded him for worrying us.  He explained that he was exhausted last night and didn't know how far up the trail we were, so decided it best to stop.  This was one of my scenarios; so I probably didn't have to shout about it.  Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Team headstands for Mather Pass.

I will not shout at anyone before 8 a.m.  Gumby and I were hiking along this morning and hadn't seen a soul.  I was trotting away thinking about how no one else was up and about yet when a southbound JMT'er (John Muir Trail hiker) appeared in front of us.  I was so startled that I shouted incoherently not once, not twice, but no less than three times.  Poor guy.  He was bewildered.   I was embarrassed.  Shouting at fellow hikers is bad form.  Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Can you see the moon?

I will not feed nor take with me any adorable little critter I cross paths with.  Sigh.  I talk to every ground squirrel, chipmunk, and/or marmot I find.  I invite each one to travel with me, promising nuts and dried food galore.  I tell them I'll even carry them.  (I think I am desperate for affection.  I've had four hugs in two months.  In the regular world it usually takes that many in one morning to tame the rabid wolverine into a fluffy bunny rabbit.)  It was a marmot I nearly kicked it was so close that I tried to convince to join us this morning.  I didn't feed it or grab it by its scruffy little neck.  But I sure wanted to.  Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Elk jaw? Are there elk in the Sierra?

I am trying to remain a well-behaved, well-socialized individual out here, despite the long period of time away from civilization.  I don't know how well I am doing.  This morning, I failed pretty miserably.  Watch me eat, pay attention to my hygiene, or smell me, and you'll conclude I am not doing very well at all.  Sigh.  I might have to gradually be brought back into the regular world upon my return.  Re-house/civilization-broken.  Tsk, tsk, tsk.