Effort or Eff It, my motto. Always a judgment call.
This time it's "eff it". I'm done, at least for now and probably forever. No more backpacking.
What did I say last time? Frequently disappoints. True, and since no one else knows or cares, I'm disappointing myself, which is enough.
I have an intense desire to pursue a rabid level of backpacking while I still can, possibly for years on end, but I have no interest in it. None at all any more.
I can plan, buy maps, choose my equipment, prepare food, drive to the trailhead, and then that's it. I can't do it. I don't want to do it. No arguing. So I go home.
The last time out was nearly three weeks ago. Since the high country was still snowed in, I decided to hike up the Elwha River valley in Olympic National Park and at least tune up my process while visiting a crazy-wonderful area. Got there, registered, checked out the trailhead the day before, slept in my car, got up the next morning and realized that there was no point in trying to do a single thing more. Because the backpacking me wasn't there.
So I drove up to Hurricane Ridge and looked around, then fixed breakfast and stopped at the Klahhane Ridge trailhead and hiked up that. No problems there. Nice hike. Steep. Makes you feel good. I felt good.
And that was the end of it. Is the end of it. I don't know how or why — I just know. It's obvious and inescapable.
Now I'm killing time while waiting to wrap up a couple of things before I head out of the country again in early August. I have no idea what I'll do next.
Toward Port Angeles, WA, and Canada, eh?
Toward the northeast.
Looking southish, toward Hurricane Ridge.
Fellow huffer.
Again, southish, from lower down.
G'bye then.