Not going out like that

June 6

I sprang out of bed at 6 am -- sleep matters, it turns out -- and then realized the only restaurant in town that served breakfast opened at 8. The Kaw-Lija Diner, named after the catchy and casually racist Hank Williams tune, did not rise with the sun. I guess it's a better name for a restaurant than I'm So Lonesome I Could Die.

So I caught up some writing, especially the reviews of camp coffee I've been making for Liz "Snorkel" Thomas (check her out). Checked out the news, where the Trump junta was idly contemplating hanging improbably named whistleblower Reality Winner from a lamppost. 

Yeah, I guess if you don't believe your government is going to mount a robust response to the hacking of voter registration, it makes sense to leak. I get the motivation.

I pushed it aside and walked to the diner, where I  ate a Spanish omelette and a cinnamon roll so hard it bent the knife when I tried to cut it. Paid out, I went back to the hotel, got the kit together, and started walking.

The trail took me along Eagle Nest Lake's shore, which smelled vaguely of sewage. The smell got less intense after I passed the actual sewage treatment center, which looked like a big lagoon along the shore of the lake. 

Some pretty threatening clouds were forming up over my old pal Wheeler Peak, which crowned the eastern side of the valley through which I walked. There wasn't too much I could do, so I kept hiking. It started to rain, and I realized that when you are on an exposed ridge in a storm, you can bomb off the side. If you're on a long, exposed roadwalk, all you can do is get struck.

Oh man, that is not how I want to go, I thought.

 

And this did 1:30 pm find me cowering inside a privy along the Lake View Trail. I watched forks of lightning hitting flat valley-bottom ground, not too far from where I'd been. There is nothing dignified about crouching in the portico of a pit toilet, but it beats getting electrocuted on a roadway while trucks with the last Tapout stickers in existence cruise past you.

The storm eventually passed, and I made haste toward the town of Angel Fire. I picked up my last maps for the trip at the post office, got a room, and bought groceries. A good meal at the local brewpub, a warm bed, and about four more days of hiking.