Johan bonding with a frog that, yes, must stay behind
Yesterday, we were sitting pretty, only to run out of water. When we landed we had one gallon among the three of us for four days. Since our first camp stop, the one on Big Stone, this location was the first place with a road. No one else was there, but the possibility existed. We ate diner and waited, hoping to Yogi some water. Or a Mountain Dew? Or a ride to town? We were hoping to have the chance to progress.
No such luck. The people who showed up were only there to drop a line. It was hard to claim they were fishing, if so, it was insincere. They barely dipped their line in the water and they were peeling out.
We told everyone who showed up that we were out of water. We heard the same story from everyone. There weren’t any towns around there.
Approaching night, we were out in the high grass field prancing and stomping and trampling down this vegetation as we made yet another illegal campsite. Nightie Night.
Mountain Peace 