How long can you go?

TOP LEFT: Battling Mosquito net'd oxygen deprived hikers

TOP RIGHT: Runner chicks, AKA Pigs in a blanket for bears

LOWER LEFT: Karen about to molest Rose

LOWER RIGHT: Our "White Trash" Christmas tree

We awake to our White Trash Christmas tree (AKA our drying rack for our wash) and sing "Oh come oh come emanual". It's an old jewish spiritual back when they were building the train between jerusalem and rome to mine frankencense, celebrating the origins of the first young boy to be mollested by a priest. (I think this may be my most obtuse reference ever...). Anyhow, at this point, we're MORE than ready to be done with the hike. After a group vote over bfast, we decide to take a run at hiking out today, compressing our final two days of (mostly) downhill into one.

Over bfast, Jo breaks it to us that she used to be an ice dancer, but that she got too fat to do lifts anymore (she's ALL of about 90 lbs nowadays). Of course, this was amongst the worst things that anybody could have added to my reportoire, and it's a relentless day of ice dancing and fat chick jokes.

Bob tells us about the video statistics class that he took. Yup, a video statistics class, you read that right. And you wonder why he never gets a second date. Or a first date for that matter. On a positive note, he can tell us about the standard deviation of our water supply. We break camp, and start quickly working our way down the mountain.

On the way down we stop to re-water, and come across a "woman" (being kind) called Rose. Rose is a fire plug by any other name, about 5' in any direction you measure it. She tells us how she's been hiking alone for the past couple weeks (never a good idea in bear country), and how this guy had been following her, and trying to mollest her for the past several nights. We tell her to hang with us, as having 3 brawny guys around (me, bob, and frenchie) will deter any would-be mollester. She hikes with us for several miles, telling us about her upbringing (a military brat who lived all over the world), her various jobs (prep girl in an organic bakery), and "foundation" model (size 52DD and up). Well, it turns out that Rose was a total loony, and we find out that EVERY guy is trying to mollest her, and I think some of the bears also. We finally part ways, only to run into her time and time again over the next couple of days. Bob mollests her twice before we leave.

Cliff and Jo drop off the back for a while, a bad move on their part at they encounter the first "up close" bear of the trip. Up close, as in, about 10 yards away. Jo totally panics; cliff doesn't, as he'd be at best a toothpick after the bear got done feeding on Jo. They loose about an hour as they have to backtrack and finally loose the bear. Nothing more invigorating than having a bear stalk you for an hour. Or Rose, for that matter...

Further down the hill we come across a group of 5 college-age gals who are RUNNING the 25-30 stretch of mountains that we've just come across (slightly different routing). They are training for an ultra-marathon, and, let me tell you, these chicks were TOUGH. Cute also, but does Bob mollest them...no, of course not!

We finally come off the hill with a 2 miles set of rock switchbacks (just lovely for the quads after 80 miles of hiking), and then finish with another 2 miles or so of sand...yes, sand. As in 150 degree, sink in 4 inches, get it in your shoes, clothes, and every exposed orifice (shouldn't have worn the ripped shorts today), and basically melt you to a pool of sludge sand.

The end is in sight, and we can see it ahead....

Lumpy out