Thursday, May 19, 1994

The morning was really cold. We figured it must be around 40. I had a blister on one toe. Jason had a blister, too. He had already punctured his by pinching it between his finger and a log, and cutting it with his knife. I punctured mine with the leather awl on my trusty Swiss Army knife. It felt much better. We had a pretty good eastern exposure and the sun warmed us up pretty fast. Jason got up and made coffee and served it to me in bed. What a guy! Then he took off fishing, and I got up and ate some breakfast. Took a little hike down the canyon and took some pictures. Too beautiful for me to describe in words. All the little waterfalls and pools and chutes. Unfortunately, the pics didn't turn out very good. I should go back there and really take the time to do some good shots. It was awesome.

Another day, another dollar. Same old story. A 1200 foot climb out of the canyon in 1.2 miles. Made it in 45 minutes, though. A great pace. For a while.

At least there was an alternate route back to the Mogollon. That Ponderosa mesa was pretty, but after 3 hours, it got a little monotonous. The other trail went up Raw Meat Creek, and then dropped down Trail Canyon to the Mogollon. I have no idea where Raw Meat Creek got it's name, but it wasn't because it was cold enough to freeze raw meat. Even though we were at 8000 feet, it was rather hot.

The creek was pretty, though. A nice change from the Ponderosa pines of the day before. It was mostly open around the tiny little creek. A quite pleasant hike through meadows, surround by stiff, marine-like pines, guarding that precious water. You learn to appreciate a cool drink around these parts, especially if you are a parched pine tree.

All things, good, bad or indifferent, must come to an end, and so went the easy trail up RMC. The creek petered out and so did I. The trail got steeper, of course. And rocky. I lagged further and further behind. Even Juneau was feeling the pain. Jason was actually carrying her pack, and had even taken my camera in exchange for something lighter. He was waiting for me at the apex, so we had some lunch and I took some pictures. Then it was off again for the Mogollon.

Our minimum objective that day was to make it to the spot where we camped two nights before. Even though we took a different trail, it was just about the same distance back. I hoped we could make it back to the good fishing holes, so my guilt feelings would reside. Jason suggested that if we could just get close, we could stop there, fish for a while, and head on down the trail.

I was having more and more difficulty going downhill. I hadn't seen the cheese grater lately. Maybe I put it in my boots instead of the insoles. Oh yeah, we don't take a cheese grater when we go backpacking. Next time maybe I can toughen my feet up that way. Or maybe I'll just stay at home, rub my feet with the cheese greater, sleep in the refrigerator, and then crawl in the oven for a few hours. It's the same effect, except that you don't get as tired, cold or hot, and you don't have to drive 1000 miles.

Well, we didn't make it to the good fishing holes. Even Jason got too tired. We did make it past the campsite of two days previous. I was so exhausted that I didn't even recognize it. That was quite a shock to me. How could I not recognize a spot where we had camped two days ago? Maybe this was even harder than I thought. That was really bothersome to me.

Anyway, I was lagging way behind, trudging up a rise in the trail, and well into Janis Joplin's "Mercedes Benz," and doing quite a good job, when Jason's face popped up above me. He had said he would stop at the first campsite after we passed the old one, and we were finally there. It was pretty high above the creek, and quite windy. Our least desirable campsite, but it was home. At least for the night. Jason tried to do a little fishing, but had no luck. I didn't even attempt it.

We had made at least 12 miles that day, though, probably 13. In the last two days, we'd done at least 25 miles. Half our mileage in two days. It did take its toll, however. It was only 13 or 14 miles out, and we had two days to do it. But, we still had to climb out of the Mogollon canyon, back down in it, back up again and down to get to the West Fork, back up out of the West Fork, down to Rain Creek, and out of it, to the lovely VW bus. The bulls better get out of the way, I may make love to it myself. If we ever get outta here.