August 28

I wake in the dark and pack up everything in my tent before I roll out. I start the stove for coffee, knowing there will be no need for extra pot cleaning water. Today is coffee and brown sugar and cinnamon pop tarts only. I try to toast my tart on the stove. It adds very little heat and just a slight hint of burnt. I declare it perfect. Poor Mike would prefer a fruit flavored tart, but I did the shopping.

We pack up our stuff, with little care where it goes. If it fits in somebody’s pack, that’s good enough. We get an early start and move like horses heading to the barn. Our way back avoids the popular Photographer’s Point, but gives us insights into which trail the mule trains use. The poop to step ratio has significantly increased. There is occasional light rain, but nothing slowing our progress.

On the way out Mike and I are both thinking about our fathers. We would love to tell them stories of our adventure, but alas they are no longer with us. We wonder what stories our boys, who are well ahead of us on the trail, will remember.