I chose the right camp spot.
There was no fog and no wind and no condensation, at all. Everything is 100% try.
As I get out of the bivy, the wind picks up, and I hear the freaking from the pines as they threaten to fall over. Lots of tall pine widow makers around here.
It’s supposed to snow today.
100% chance.
I’m excited about it.
I also see that I’m 26 miles from the next town, Heflin. And the elevation profile says that there are quite a few climbs.
I wonder if I can do another big day, in spite of these hills. Probably not. I’m going to saunter through today.
At 1030, I’m emotionally done with the monotony of the forest. Staring up at the sky, I think about quitting. I won’t, of course, but I give it full consideration.
How to I manage my emotions about the lack of variety? That’s what kept me going on the Arizona Trail.
Maybe I can make this a game. A game of seeing how much I can push myself. Maybe I can actually run this trail.
For about 30 minutes I stare up at the sky, trying to find the emotional place I need to make that happen. I eat another fun protein bar.
And another.
I really love chocolate.
What happened to the 100% snow? All I see is blue sky. A perfectly clear blue sky.
Alright.
I’m going to do it. I need to average just over 4 miles per hour to make it to Heflin at a reasonable time. That seems impossible, but really, how fast could I go?
Time to find out.
I fashion a stick out of a fallen tree branch, and I take off at a steady pace. On inclines, I propel myself up with it.
After 6 minutes, I’m exhausted.
Rest a bit. Try again.
There’s another tree branch that would make a better walking stick…or I can use them both as trekking poles. Yes. This is better.
After 15 minutes, I’m exhausted.
Rest a bit. Try again.
And repeat.