sweet potato fries and sweet tea

He and I will now smile when we hear someone say, "Sweet potato fries."
About one-quarter of that bag got puked down a hill.
But let's not get only five miles into the hike yet.
Let's remember the blue because I sure as hell didn't get a picture of those rocks, that water, the glistening color which confronted me. And I'm saying you can't do it. Not with a camera phone.

Let's talk about the word "hill" and how subjectively speaking that word can be confusing. If you had never on foot climbed one of those inclines they call a hill, you might think the same as what I just witnessed. Four miles in the dark, he and I did it.


The past three days I have been grateful for headlamps, dry stable rocks, the owls who didn't like our light, that one place we camped, that other one too. I forgive Dollar General for their lack of cold chocolate water so affectionately termed "Yoo Hoo!" (termed and branded)


Light, light peeking through trees.
That first day we danced on the trail. And we were good. Him up ahead. Me behind.
The next day we could not imagine kicking our leg up that high.
We both slowed down.
And there was that jump which led to that joke of, "No nothing wrong with the knees. I just didn't know my back had whatever that was in it." And I thought he was laughing at my joke of pretending to walk backwards and saying, "I can only walk backwards now."

But no, he was laughing because I seemed confused and incoherent but happy.

Today I am grateful for elevation sickness, for pushing my body to the point of my toes hurt when I sit. I am also grateful to know I'd do it all again. (just not too soon. good gosh people.)


I am grateful for plenty of fluids.