Greetings from Crater Lake

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. But they don't know how poor a photographer I am. Surely fifty words will do for mine. Since I have neither the time nor the inclination to upload photos (after the trip, I promise), my descriptions will have to suffice.  Imagine a long windy brown patch of dirt. That's the trail. Now imagine that everywhere you look are pine trees. But I'd you look closely, you might be able to make out some blue. That would be the sky. OK, that's it. Now you know exactly what hiking the last hundred miles was like.

This led me to think of anything to get my mind off the trail. And that usually means thinking about town. What should I do when I get to town? Since I was feeling a bit jealous that Mark was going to run 50 miles (congrats, Mark), while I was only going to hike 39, I decided that as soon as I got into town, I would go for an 11 mile run.

Then I remembered about the trail crew I had just met who told me about a 20 pound pizza challenge (four people, one hour), and thought, you know, instead of running 11 miles, I'll just get me one of those.

I liked that idea much better. But unable and/or unwilling to get a ride to Klamath Falls. I settled on the measly four pound pizza from crater lake. It did make me feel a bit better that the menu called it a "family size" pie.

The waitress seemed to be very impressed when I finished the whole enchilada. Why she served me an enchilada instead of the pizza I ordered, I'll never know. I did have a passing thought that it was a shame I am happily married, as I'm sure many successful relationships begin by the age old courting ritual of gorging oneself ("if he needs to eat that much, just imagine how much food he can provide to my offspring. I'll just have to remember to keep the little ones away from his piehole during mealtimes. *swoon*.")

As she was clearing the crumbs (just kidding, there were no crumbs left), still in a bit of shock, she jokingly asked if I could be possibly thinking about dessert. Quite possibly I was.

Perhaps I should have been embarrassed when I ordered a coffee milkshake, but the trail strips you raw enough that you don't become embarrassed about anything. So I ordered what may have been the best milkshake ever, prepared by the same waitress. I had another passing thought that it was a shame I am happily married, as that milkshake might have gotten a proposal out of me. I am certain that many successful relationships start out that way ("You know, if I had a wife like that I could have a milkshake every day *burp*").

You know something is true when it's been made into an aphorism. "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." And "the way to a woman's heart is through a display of  intense gluttony."

Caroline just emailed me something so fascinating that I feel the need to share.  Apparently, we are attracted to people with complementary immune systems. You can smell it in their pheromones. And now they have discovered you can taste it in their saliva. They say that is perhaps why French kissing originated. I say that makes sense, as the French invented perfume to avoid having to take showers, thus masking their odors and foiling a vital part of the mating ritual.

This helps in answering the unanswerable question people ask of why am I hiking the trail. Now I can answer them with "if you don't know that you are married to your spouse because you enjoy the taste of your their saliva, why do you think I know why I'm hiking the trail?" Until now, my stock response was "How else am I going to find some decent maple syrup?"

Let's hope the next section of trail provides some interesting happenings. Because if I'm left alone to simply walk, I have nothing but my own musings to "entertain" you. Just be thankful that you have a delete button on your e-mail, and can turn me off whenever you like. I've got to listen to this yammering all day long.

I'd like to leave you with one final thought. This section has me missing Caroline more than ever. I know I don't say this often enough, and never in public, but sweetie, I love your immune system.

-Roger Dodger