Blue Lakes and Meander Meadow, page 7

Looking down at Meander Meadow from the PCT.

The long descending traverse from the Poet Ridge cutoff to Dishpan Gap was wearying on my hot, swelling, citified footsies. I looked longingly down at the glistening stream in the meadows hundreds of feet below and promised myself that the third thing I was going to do once I got there was soak my feet. (The first being to remove my pack, the second being to remove the dog packs.)

And I did. I soaked my feet and took off all my clothes and dowsed myself with cups of cold stream water. Then, standing naked in the water I rinsed out my dusty trail clothes, not caring who might have witnessed my joyous act from the trail high above. I didn’t hear any shrieks of horror, so I guess I got away with a private bath.

Now the tent is up, the water sack is full, and my water bottle has a fresh batch of Cherry Koolaid in it. The sun will be dropping behind the west ridge shortly and the mosquitos have already begun to make their appearance. Both of these events lead to one irrefutable conclusion: time to put on some wind pants and a jacket. Then I’ll feed the pups.

6:20 PM — The pups are fed and my pasta water is just about to boil. High cirrus clouds are coming in from the southwest. Oh, well … this is as good as anyplace to spend a night or two in the rain.

The dogs are all still hungry; they didn’t have any breakfast this morning, whereas I at least hand a handful of M&Ms and a cup of coffee. I am SUCH a mean old puppy mommy.

The PCT trail, full of color in September.

We saw two red tail hawks soaring above this basin as we traversed along the PCT. I wonder if they were a mated pair. They seemed to be flying together. We also say one man in his mid-30’s just coming down to Dishpan Gap. I asked, “You’re not camping down in the meadows are you?” He said, no—he was on the other side of the gap. Then he said of the meadows, “They look a lot nicer from here than they do from down there.

Harumph to you, too, I thought.

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