My Journey to Freedom and Ultralight Backpacking Read Online Free

just bought onto the bed.
6. Groan, grimace and swear!
7. Remove all excess packing, piling into, covering and burying what is commonly referred to as a “waste basket”.
8. Condense various foodstuffs into plastic zip lock bags, placing them into stuff sacks. Nibbles are allowed.
9. Shuffle backpack contents over and over till this mass fits and is reasonably stable for carrying through the Wilderness.
      We mailed home our ice axes, my gaiters, a pair of socks, journal pages and a few other non-essential things. I was anxious to get back to the peace and solitude of the mountains. Rainmaker, pleased that I chose to resupply and get back on the trail, admitted he’d had some doubt about whether I would commit to another section. It seemed I was starting to get the hang of this.  We were really weighed down with food for the 106 miles to Sierra City, making the inevitable climb out of town into the mountains laborious. Not knowing what new adventures lay ahead was incredible. Thankfully, I no longer felt so bewildered by the data book.
      This section offered opportunities to cool off in ice-cold lakes during lunch breaks. We met a lot of weekenders, Forest Service workers and thru-hikers. My opinion of long distance hikers had grown. All those I met (up to that point) were intelligent, articulate, and very kind. I suppose I officially joined their ranks, having resupplied and recommitted myself to this wonderful wilderness experience.
  We each had our aches and pains, but that is the nature of a long hike. It became normal to wake up stiff, hobble around for a while, and then pack up. Once hiking, the stiffness dissipated, but injuries would flare up. Rainmaker and I have concurred that on the trail; “What don’t kill you, hurts like hell!”
      It was great how quickly we lost track of the days and numbers on a calendar. Concerning dates, the only difference it made to us was the possibility of seeing a lot of weekenders or if we would get to the post office in time to pick up our much needed drop/bounce boxes. Besides our hexamine (fuel) tablets, they held various medicines, vitamins, laundry powder, guide pages, writing paper, aluminum foil for new windscreens, zip lock bags, sun block, spare gloves, tent stakes, postal tape, bandanas and most importantly, instant coffee.
      Standards changed. It used to bother me if anything was in my drinking or cooking water. Now I just thought in terms of parts per million. However, I refused to drink anything looking at me from inside my water bottle. Hiking clothes were washed in streams whenever possible. In the extreme heat of the day, I would strip my shirt off, rinse it in the cold stream, and redress, right on trail. Obviously, the wildness of a long distance hiker was seeping into me, and the contrivances of civilization were falling away.
      My first live wild bear encounter happened during our lunch break at a wooden bridge spanning a creek. We had left our packs leaning against a nearby tree, washed in the water without soap and ate while sitting on the bridge. I heard a loud crash in the woods but said nothing, thinking, like a city girl would, that kids were tearing around out there. After lunch we went to get our packs and heard more crashing. Rainmaker looked at me and said, “I think it’s a bear.” Craning my head around the trail to see, not 50 ft. from us, a bear was doing the same. It was startling to see this cinnamon colored creature; he appeared comical with his curiosity and reminded me of a Disney character. Rainmaker had put his pack on already and commanded, “Carol, get your pack on.” Then we stood watching the bear. Suddenly, he started walking down the trail towards us. Rainmaker calmly moved off to the left and I followed close behind him, frightened at the bear’s direct approach. He picked up some rocks, so I grabbed a big one, too. The bear swerved to the left, then Rainmaker moved back on the trail. We watched as the bear