Lucy Ondo

CHAPTER TEN     (SONORA PASS MILE 1018.5 TO SIERRA CITY MILE 1197.5)

LESSON LEARNED: Take time to meet section hikers.

Once Ernie arrived safely, there was no reason to hang around. I headed up the trail. Ernie and Enduro lingered behind at the table of the Sonora Pass Café.

Ernie caught up with me a few miles up the trail and we hiked together to mile 1028. A brown boot stood next to the trail on top of a rock.  We investigated and found the footpath led to a large open empty campsite with a fast moving creek alongside.  Ernie wanted to stop for the night. I would have preferred to keep hiking but agreed it was an ideal campsite. Best to have the company to ward off loneliness and sacrifice a few extra miles for the day.

Ernie set his tent near the creek and began a lengthy ritual of washing his shirt, his socks and himself.  He found his ‘lost’ wallet in his bear canister.

Locating my tent in the upper portion of the campsite, I set about building a fire in an existing ring of rocks, fired up the Jetboil and made dinner by the campfire. We were thus engaged in our separate tasks when Enduro arrived. I was surprised to see him again. We were off the trail and could not have been seen. With his level of fitness, I had expected he would be a down the trail many miles ahead.

Day 91, Monday, June 30

As soon as it was light, I left camp. Enduro was sleeping. Ernie was packing up. It was a bright, crisp, sunny morning. At some point in the morning, Ernie passed me. I caught up with him when he stopped for lunch. Seated under a tree eating lunch, we looked back down and saw Enduro gaining ground.

“Do you remember his name?” Ernie racked his memory, puzzled.

“I think it had something to do with endurance,” I have a lazy habit of not remembering names. Enduro was younger and fit. I had expected he would have been long gone down the trail.

“I don’t want to admit I forgot his name,” I added, and we giggled. In a few minutes, he joined us. I waited for some point when he would mention his name and avoid the embarrassment of not remembering. When he said his trail name, Ernie and I looked at each other with relief.

In the afternoon we hiked separately at our own speed. It was exciting to run into and walk a few miles with Rubiks. Rubiks met me with a huge smile and a big hug; he brought enthusiasm and trail news.

I rounded a corner in the trail to find Ernie sitting on a downed tree in the shade talking with Che. With no seating space on the log, Rubiks and I sat down on the ground next to the two men.

“….college should be free for everyone…..…money is not real….money is just a figment of our imaginations…” Che gestured with both hands adding emphasis as he expounded on his political beliefs.

“Oh, no.” I looked down at the bag of peanuts I had accidentally spilled across the ground. I slowly picked up each peanut and blew the dirt off before popping it in my mouth. It was food I did not want to waste.

“Are you eating food off the ground?” asked Ernie with disgust as he turned to me with raised eyebrows.

“If you hiked a thousand miles you, too, might consider eating off the ground.” I laughed, and Che laughed with me, he was a thru-hiker and understood. I ran into Che frequently in the next couple of days as Ernie enjoyed stopping to talk with him.

Ernie and I came together on the ascent up to Noble Lake. Ernie wanted to camp at the lake (mile 1047).   On my own, I would have kept going; however, I enjoyed the company of my newfound companions. Right before our destination Enduro joined us along the trail.

We exited the trail to walk the sandy and rocky bank of the lake until we found a scenic campsite set above the lake that satisfied Ernie’s section hiker sensibilities. We each took turns going down to the lake to wash up. The lake water was remarkably warm. I ate dinner perch on a large rock overlooking the serene lake as the last of the sunlight shimmered across the water turning it golden.

By the time Ernie finished his nightly ritual of washing, both Enduro and I had eaten and gone to our tents to avoid the evening crush of mosquitos.

Day 92, Tuesday, July 1

We had formed ourselves into a group and in the morning discussed together the mile we would stop to camp. Enduro’s company on the trail was an excellent addition.

Three people made it easy to laugh and tease one another. The two guys teased me mercilessly about my snoring. We teased Ernie about his fastidious trail habits and lengthy evening washing ritual. I laughed at Ernie’s need to have a rock or log to set down on, never on the ground. We both teased Ernie about his big heavy hiking boots. The two guys continually ribbed each other in the easy way of men.

Ernie and I came to Ebbetts Pass at Hwy 4 early in the morning. We met a 74-year-old hiker, Monkey Wrench. It was the first thru-hiker I met older than me.  After a short routine trail conversation covering trail names, trail status (thru or section hiker), where we are from, I resumed hiking leaving Ernie talking with Monkey Wrench.  Shortly, Ernie came up behind me.

“Why didn’t you stay and talk?  he asked.  “I was trying to find you a hiking companion for after I leave the trail at Lake Tahoe.”

“Sorry, early on I found the few men my age or older are usually extremely unfriendly.  It’s as if they fear getting stuck with a woman they might end up looking after on the trail.  I learned to avoid older men.  I certainly am not looking for someone to help or look after me!”

“You talked to me.”

“You’re younger.” End of conversation.

Soon after leaving the pass we split off to hike at our own pace. The morning walk along Raymond’s meadow led to higher ground. On the ascent, passing through wild mint growing along the trail I stopped to breathe in the fresh aroma. Farther up the crest, I walked through a fields of wild purple irises.

It was a pleasant day; the ideal temperature for hiking.  The sun warmed without becoming hot. My heart soared and my footsteps effortless as I caste my gaze about with simple joy.

“Though nothing can bring back the hour, of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower….”   Wordsworth’s poetry about loss and death oddly ran through my brain as the miles of flowers and life lay stretched out before me.  I mentioned this to Ernie when I next caught up with him; and he recited the poem from memory.  It must have been the connection between the beauty of the poetry and the beauty of the scenery.

In the afternoon, Ernie and I rejoined ranks and presently ran into Rubiks and his group again.

“Lucy!” Rubiks joyfully called out and gave me a big welcoming hug.

“Lucy? Is that your name?” asked Ernie incredulously, “I have been hiking with you for days, and you never mentioned your name.”

In the late afternoon, we passed over a high ridge and made our way down the steep craggy trail into a large open ravine.  Ernie explained the reason we should not concern ourselves with the clouds and lightning in the eastern sky. He explained weather typically moves from west to east.

After reaching the bottom of the ravine, we camped at mile 1067 in a stand of pine trees deep in thick pine straw not far from a small opaque green pond overran and polluted by range cattle.

Ernie decided to give himself the trail name of Smash. Smash is a flight term for the pilot pushing in full throttle. As a pilot with his own plane, Ernie must have given his trail name thought. It was too late for me to call him by his new trail name; I already knew him as Ernie.

Day 93, Wednesday, July 2

The early morning hike passed along rock mountain formations and into high-country through extensive meadows dotted with wildflowers. It was a walk of intoxication.

I caught up with Ernie as the trail summited a ridge overlooking Carson Pass and we made the descent together.

The volunteers at Carson Pass visitor center passed out cans of soda to thru-hikers. Nearby were garbage cans and an outhouse. Real luxuries.

Enduro caught up with us at Carson Pass, and the two of us stayed back to chat with the other thru-hikers seated on the front porch of the log visitor’s center as Ernie left to hike forward.

On the trail out of Carson Pass, I found a box of beers left for thru-hikers. Instead of drinking the beer, I added one to the side of my pack to enjoy later at camp.

We ended up camping at Showers Lake at mile 1087.5 along with several other hikers, including two hikers named Eddie and Devilish.  Eddie, a man of small stature, slept wrapped in a hammock.  Enduro teased a bear might mistake him for a burrito.

It was a big sprawling campground with barren brown dirt under large trees casting shadows.   As the campground was dark and gloomy, I walk to the lake edge in the evening to enjoy the view of the water and watch the sun go down. The water in the lake was warm.  Too warm to cool my can of beer.  I drank the beer warm.

Day 94, Thursday, July 3

It was ten miles to Echo Lake (mile 1094.5). I was eager to pick up my next resupply package containing my new shoes.   My shoes were torn open across the top, and the tread had worn off the soles. I headed out of camp looking forward to arriving in Echo Lake by lunchtime. At Echo Summit, Ernie and Enduro caught up with me, and we hiked into Echo Lake together.

Since it was Fourth of July weekend, Enduro and I accepted Ernie’s generous invitation to stay the night at their family ski chalet near South Lake Tahoe.

The house was filled with several relatives staying the weekend. Ernie’s wife Deb, a retired attorney, was an attractive woman with a crisply cut brown bob. Her sister, also staying at the house, was an attorney in a prestigious legal position with the state of California. Both were charming and welcoming considering we were crashing their family holiday weekend.

In the afternoon, I sat on the back porch of the house overlooking the tall Sugar pines and enjoyed a cold beer.

A party at the house next door provided pleasant background noise. In the morning we were treated with what happens when food is carelessly left out in coolers for bears to get at. The yard next door was strewn with debris. The neighbor’s coolers had been ripped apart and scattered about by a bear during the night.

Day 95, Friday, July 4

Midday Ernie and Deb dropped Enduro and me off at the outfitter store in South Lake Tahoe. I needed to purchase a new bag for my Sawyer filter and other items including a gas canister for my Jetboil.

The store featured a small windowless back room for hikers to hang out. It was supplied with a list of local hotels and the numbers to local trail angels. After calling around the hotels listed, I secure a hotel room for two nights.   Unfortunately, the small hotel was a full mile walk out-of-town.

Day 96, Saturday, July 5

On this second zero, I bought additional supplies and ran into Rubiks at the outfitter store. He was upset at having his new backpack ripped up by a bear during the previous night after he had left it sitting outside on the porch of the cabin where he was staying with friends.

“My parents just gave me the new backpack. It was brand new.” he lamented.

“Will you have to replace it?” I asked him. I felt his distress. A hiker’s pack is everything. Losing your backpack or damaging it beyond repair is a serious blow.

I sent my bear canister and camera home. I had carried my food in the bear canister since Kennedy Meadows (south) adding two pounds to my pack weight. As the postal worker dropped the canister in the package bin, I wanted to fist pump a “yes.” It was a joy to be rid of it.

Inside the bear canister, I had packed my camera and my hiking pants to further decrease my pack weight. I was using my iPhone camera for photos and I the hiking pants were now too large.

Leaving the post office, I walked along the lake among the throngs of people celebrating the holiday weekend. I met Enduro for a late lunch at a Mexican restaurant and drank a couple of extra-large margaritas in celebration of our leisure zero.  The margaritas slid down with ease tasting refreshingly cool.

Day 97, Sunday, July 6

At eleven in the morning, I walked the mile to the outfitters to meet Enduro to catch our ride back to Echo Lake. He had arranged with a Trail Angel to give us a lift. We were sitting outside on a grassy knoll close to the front of the store when CatDog came along.

New Shoes!

CatDog said she would hike out with us but at the last moment decided to yellow blaze (skip a portion of the trail by accepting a car ride further up the trail) up to Hwy 80, 64.8 trail miles ahead. She said she hoped to meet up with us later.

Our trail angel was a local artist. The big and burly man was driving an open jeep. We threw our gear in the back, and I called shotgun. He started the conversation by saying he invented Post-Its. I laughed and said I had seen the movie and we both laughed. He would not take our offered payment for the ride back to Echo Lake.

It was mid-afternoon when Enduro and I finally got back to the trail.

Leaving Echo Lake yielded expansive views of the lake. A series of rocks and rock steps cut along the hillside allowed an excellent view down to the cabins built at the edge of Upper Echo Lake. The trail was rocky, and shale covered making progress slow as each step had to be steadied.

We headed into Desolation Wilderness. The granite rock formations and barren rocky terrain were occasionally interspersed with sparse woodlands of juniper, fir, and pine. The trail wound along several lakes.

Above Gilmore Lake, I caught up with Enduro, who was talking with a day hiker. The three of us ate dinner together perch on a large rock formation. When the day hiker continued on, he offered to take out our garbage, a welcome offer.

In the dimming light, we decided to camp at this location since it was next to a creek. We camped on the hill above the stream.  Each found tent sites at different levels on the hill. We were just passed mile 1108.

Ernie’s departure left a gap in our group. Ernie and I had more in common. He was closer to my age. We both were in long-term marriages. Enduro, I suspected, missed Ernie’s male companionship and the easy teasing. Enduro and I were left to somehow form a trail friendship with each other.

Enduro was a much faster hiker, it became our habit for me to hike out early.  He usually departed camp a couple of hours later. He caught up with me sometime in the afternoon at which time we discussed possible camps sites ahead before continuing on separately at our own speed. It was pleasant to have someone to meet up with at the end of the day to have a conversation while preparing and eating dinner. I tried to pitch my tent at a distance from Enduro so he could not bug me about my loud snoring.

Enduro and I kept up lighthearted conversations as we cooked dinner and set up our tents in the evenings. The light, good-natured banter became the bond of our friendship. Enduro, it turned out, was good trail company.  He was thoughtful, generous, and funny.  His willingness to want to know everyone he ran into along the trail made him well known and well liked by the other hikers.

Trail friendships are like having siblings.  You find yourself in the situation together, and you just try to survive the best you can.  It is an extra bonus when you actually enjoy each other’s companionship.

Day 98, Monday, July 7

An early morning climb in the brisk morning air brought me up and over Dicks Pass and then down to Dicks Lake. The trail skirted Fontanillis Lake and trail signs for Upper Velma Lake and Middle Velma Lake. I met an oncoming hiker who asked how far it was to the lake and seemed annoyed when I asked her which lake.

By midday, I was out of Desolation Wilderness and hiking through the forest occasionally opening into meadows. I saw Enduro briefly when he passed me in the afternoon, he waited at mile 1129, and we camped in a valley.

Day 99, Tuesday, July 8

A sudden movement in the trees caught my eye. A male western tanager with a red head, yellow body, and black wings flitted along the lower tree limbs nearby. It was a type of bird frequently seen in our backyard where the bright plumage fits in with the brightly colored flowers. The bird’s bright colors contrasted sharply against the dark green foliage of the evergreen tree.

In the cold gray early hours of the morning, I walked a couple of miles up to Barker Pass and was happy to be rewarded with a picnic table to make breakfast. The bird sighting added to the magic of the morning.

It started to drizzle as I finished drinking coffee.

It remained cloudy most of the day, with intermittent light sprinkles.  At one high ridge, I came to a lookout point with a comprehensive view of Lake Tahoe below. At other times mist lay across the valleys. The weather changed frequently and quickly throughout the day.

Tips of my trekking poles starting to wear off.

The trail stayed high as I hiked into and out of Granite Chief Wilderness area high above Lake Tahoe on the western side.  The trail stayed on a ridge overlooking Alpine Meadows Ski Area, and then the trail circled around Squaw Valley Ski area offering dramatic views down into the area’s closed lifts and ski runs.

Enduro passing me on the trail.

I wanted to be well away from the ski areas before camping. Bears are most dangerous where they have had human contact and human food sources, both found around ski areas.

The night before I had suggested we camp at mile 1144 where my map indicated a camp spot. When I arrived at mile 1144, the area was too small for two tents and was surrounded by steep sides next to a fast moving creek. To make matters worse, the area was swarming with mosquitos. I left a note on a rock for Enduro in case he was still behind me to let him know I was hiking on.

A few miles further on the trail, at mile 1150, I came upon two hikers already inside their tents, Mogly and a photographer from Chicago. I set my tent up nearby and hurriedly jumped inside to avoid the attacking mosquitos. I was in such a hurry to find protection from the swarming mosquitos, I did not bother to put on the tent fly.

The two guys had their tents pulled very close together and were passing a pipe between. We talked to each other from our respective tents, none of us willing to brave the swarms of mosquitoes.

I was amazed by the camera equipment carried by the photographer. I had sent my small camera home inside my bear canister from Echo Lake and was using my iPhone for photos to save weight.

After the beauty of the trail during this day, this was an unappealing campsite. It was a nondescript sloping hillside with scattered trees. A nearby water source was a small marshy creek.

At dusk, Enduro came by and camped on the hillside a little above our tents.

During the night it started to rain. As soon as I heard rain, I quickly jumped out of my tent to add the fly before everything became soaking wet. My camp mates were hurriedly performing the same task.

In the morning the sky was cloudless and blue.

Day 100, Wednesday, July 9

Enduro and I left camp together in the morning and discussed leaving the trail at Hwy 40 at Donner Pass and hitching into Soda Springs for lunch in a restaurant. We were only seven miles away from the highway. The prospect of a meal was delightful to contemplate and enough temptation to lure Enduro up and out of camp early.

He was ahead soon and out of sight. His Altra sole tracks left distinctive prints in the dust. Just before the top of the ridge into Sugar Bowl ski area, the trail turned eastward and began the descent into Donner Pass. I started to meet day hikers on the trail. First I met a lady runner with a dog then I ran into several groups.

Two people stopped to tell me a man ahead in a yellow shirt asked them to let me know he was going to hitch into Soda Springs as soon as he got to the road. Most thru-hikers understand the reason to hike together is to be able to hitch together. I had to remind myself Enduro was a section hiker and not a thru-hiker.

The trail came out into a parking lot.   At the end of the trail sat a cooler with cans of soda swimming in icy water. A sign on the cooler welcomed thru-hikers to help themselves to a drink. I dipped my hand in the ice water and drew out a cold can of lemon-lime soda.

Assuming Endura had already hitched a ride, I did not rush. I loaded my trekking poles on the pack. From the webbing of the outside of my pack, I pulled out wet wipes and cleaned my face and hands.

As I walked out of the parking lot toward the highway, I was surprised to find Enduro still waiting for a hitch. As soon as I arrived, an older couple pulled over and agreed to take us the two miles westward to Soda Springs General Store.

At the general store, we learned the nearby restaurant was closed for renovations. Disappointed, we purchased items in the small store and ate lunch outside on the long green rambling front porch. The building itself consisted of several businesses. On one side was a post office. The other side housed a ski shop. The ski business appeared to be closed for the season. As we ate the clerk helpfully allowed us to recharge our cell phones inside.

There was a good deal of traffic as cars pulling in and out at the store and post office. We expected an easy hitch back up to Donner Pass.

Back on the PCT, Enduro hiked ahead, and I finally caught up with him talking with a group of guys at the rest stop on Hwy 80 (mile 1159). Rubiks was among the group. All the guys were headed to Peter Grubb hut at the edge of Basin Peak Meadow.

Arriving shortly after Castle Pass in the late afternoon, the Peter Grubb hut was crowded with several hikers. I stepped inside. It was smelly, and I quickly retreated back out into the fresh air. I talked with Rubiks who said he was staying the night.

“It’s about the smiles, not the miles,” Rubiks told me with his big happy smile.

Seated on rocks near the hut Enduro and I prepared and ate our dinners while discussing the pros and cons of staying with the other hikers or continuing along the trail. It was too smelly for me. I voted to hike on, and after consideration Enduro agreed.

We camped just past mile 1164 among large granite rocks with a view of Paradise Valley ahead. There was enough space for us to each have our own privacy in our separate tent locations. In the evening a beautiful pink-orange sunset hovered on the horizon as the sun retreated behind gossamer slivers of purple clouds just before sinking out of view.

I was in the groove of hiking. My feet did not hurt. I was fit and tan. The simple life of the trail was appealing. It had taken over a thousand miles on the trail to get to this point.

It was extremely agreeable to no longer be under siege from swarms of mosquitos in the warm evenings allowing the time in camp to be pleasant and welcome.

I did not experience total physical exhaustion again until reaching the North Cascades when it became necessary to cover twenty plus miles in ever decreasing daylight hours as the days grew shorter and the trail wound through more challenging terrain in bitterly cold wet weather.

Day 101, Thursday, July 10

In the early afternoon, in the heat of the day, I came out onto a new roughly plowed logging road.   A water truck was parked at the edge of the road leaking water from the tank. Squatting before the leaking flow of water a pretty dark haired young woman introduced herself as Stephanie. She had a large camera around her neck and was washing her arms and face in the water.

Standing nearby, an attractive man in the forties, bare to the waist, was cooling down with water and wringing out his wet shirt. Freebird had a friendly, relaxed manner. He was effusively apologetic about their use of the water and insisted the water was already leaking when they arrived at the truck. He adamantly wanted me to know they had not caused the leak.

I washed my face in the water. Splashed some water on my shirt and hiked on up the switchbacks leading to the ridges above.

The trail wound through a rolling ocean of foot high yellow wildflowers. On the ridge top a mild breeze sent waves across the flowers. I looked around with excitement at the view and the buttes ahead.

Freebird and Stephanie caught up and talked as we walked along together. He was from Hana on Maui. She was a photographer and artist. He had hiked the trail twice before in his youth and was eager to share his experiences by taking Stephanie along this portion of the PCT.

Freebird spoke of the trail and the changing rock formations knowledgeably and articulately. Freebird was an extraordinary man. I listened carefully, eager to learn.

Eventually, Stephanie stopped to photograph a high rock outcropping with small pine trees growing out of the side, I reluctantly hiked on.

Mid afternoon I stopped for water at Mule Ears Creek. A group of thru-hikers had accumulated around the creek cut off. Three hikers were sleeping, two resting, one was filtering water, and three of hikers were taking the opportunity to light up and pass a joint. It was the desert all over again as hikers gathered around a watering hole. I realized how nice it had been to meet up with other hikers at water sources during the desert section.

Freebird and Stephanie joined the group and asked about Sierra City. I handed over town and hotel information from my Yogi guidebook pages to help them with information. I had already called ahead for a room reservation.

Enduro had indicated when we parted in the morning that he would leave a note if he decided to stay at a campground at Jackson Meadows Reservoir or if he was going to continue on to Sierra City. He was hoping to make it all the way to Sierra City. I had no reason to rush as I had a hotel reservation in Sierra City and was not due in until the next day. When I came out to the road to the campground, there was no note from Enduro on the signboard next to the road. Without word indicating his plans, I felt free to make my own.

I arrived at the road with a couple of young hikers who opted to stay at the first campground. I flagged down a passing truck and asked about the difference between the two campgrounds and was informed the Pass Creek Campground had potable water.

It was a farther off the road to walk over to the Pass Creek campground, but I guessed it to be the better bet and headed in that direction. Walking around the campground loop looking for an available camp spot, I was disappointed to see each of the sites reserved. I was heading out of the park when a woman hailed me from the last campsite.

“Are you a thru-hiker?” She inquired.

“Yes,” I nodded

“We weren’t sure because you look too clean with your white shirt,” she laughed.

“You’re welcome to share our camp. We have plenty of room for you to add your tent.”

She motioned to their two tents and the other woman sitting by the campfire. I nodded again, grateful to accept the invitation. I put my pack on the seat of the picnic table and sat down in a chair by the campfire.

Trail Angels at Pass Creek Campground

When I walked over to toilets (actual flush toilets), I found the bathrooms had running water. I took the opportunity to wash my feet.

Alison and her friend were taking a weeklong girl trip, camping and hiking together. They had already eaten dinner but offered garden fresh cherry tomatoes, marshmallows, and wine. After such a treat, making my own trail food was not appetizing. Instead, I ate more than my share of marshmallows, lightly toasting each over the crackling campfire.

The two women were teachers on summer holiday. They were pleasant company and asked many questions about my hike.  Alison wished to hike the PCT at some point in her future.

We laughed and talked around the campfire until well past dark. Minutes after crawling into my tent it began to rain.

Day 102, Thursday, July 11

I was up before my hosts and drinking a cup of coffee by the time they greeted the morning. The rain had stopped in the night and the early morning sky was pale blue. It was going to be a bright day. I slung my backpack on, said goodbye to my generous trail angels and headed back to the trail.

It was a quiet walk into Sierra City (mile 1197.5). I did not see anyone on the trail. Close in, a short-cut through a campground led to the road into town.

Sierra City is a former mining town turned tourist area built along a picturesque main street lined with old historic buildings.

I was in Sierra City before lunch and headed directly for the Sierra Country Store to eat. The store is famous for serving huge cheeseburgers.   The store was in a rambling old building with high ceilings and white walls.  The tall, heavyset man behind the deli counter dressed in white shirt and red apron happily agreed to make my cheeseburger lettuce wrapped.

Seated out on the front porch of the store while visiting with other thru-hikers I relished every bite of the cheeseburger. Hikers were busy devouring food and drink. Sierra City had around 20 or more thru-hikers in town. The hikers lounged around the front porch of the store and a grassy knoll in front of the house next door.

Afterward, I went in search of the hotel. It was a little bit of a walk down the road to Herrington’s Resort on the Yuba River. As soon as I got to my room, I spread out my tent, fly and ground cloth to dry from the overnight rain. After a prolonged shower, I took an afternoon nap.

A text from Enduro greeted me when I woke to say he had arrived at the hotel and wanted to meet for dinner at seven in the hotel restaurant.

The restaurant was empty when I arrived. The décor of the restaurant was as dated as the waitress’s attire. She was dressed in a white blouse with long puffy sleeves. A dark green apron covered the front of her gathered skirt.

“Will you be dining alone?” She enquired, sweetly, as I followed her to a table.

“No, I have a friend joining me,” I answered as I took the menu she offered. She immediately cleared two of the four place settings at the table.

“Can I get you something to drink while you wait?” I ordered a gin and tonic.

Several tables filled with diners. I was surprised Enduro had not yet shown up. Every few minutes the waitress returned to check on me.

“Are you certain you wouldn’t like to go ahead and order?” the waitress was all efficiency.

Nearly an hour later, after the waitress had made several inquiries, I relented and ordered dinner.

Enduro arrived after I ordered but before the food arrived.   Shortly a married couple were seated at the table next to us.   The couple kept up lively trail conversation throughout dinner as we shared our trail experiences. It was a pleasant evening. My huge filet mignon, which was at least three inches thick—was cooked perfectly medium rare. I ate the entire steak along with the accompanying baked potato.