Hello from day 11 and my first attempt at blogging from my phone. At the laundromat, trying not to resent town for all the chores it requires. On the other hand, it is raining outside and I have a roof over my head. Which is also a pretty good summary of this last stretch of miles.
After a beautiful day leaving town, our days ranged from damp to drenched. It was wet and stormy enough that we took an unplanned zero on our third day out and holed up in a shelter while the worst of it raged. In one three-day storm, I went from happily riding it out in our tent to skeptically moving into the shelter to gratefully squeezing into the last possible shelter space mid-downpour to opting for the shelter out of laziness on an evening that was maybe threatening rain.
And similarly, I swore that I would never use my phone service away from town and then the first storm blew in and we were headed for higher elevations… so we checked the forecast from our tent and made the call to sit out the six inches and 50 mph gusts. And I was reminded, yet again, that there are good exceptions to every rule.
After yearning to find routine in the first few days, I’m yearning for the imagined routine and simplicity of dry days now. It’s always something.
The trail is starting to feel familiar, as we learn the landscape and our bodies learn to navigate the terrain. Starting. It’s all so tentative, a good morning has me thinking maybe I’ve crossed some magic invisible line and then my knee screams down a steep descent and I find myself contemplating five months of knee pain. Neither is true, of course, but when each day feels like an odyssey, it’s easy to get caught up in it.