The weather report the night before was bleak to say the least. Clouds rolling in overnight and a morning filled with rain. We didn’t care. It was the last weekend in February and neither of us had been on a decent hike since Mount Hood had torn me up in late July. The winter had taken its toll on both of us, though neither one of us knew the extent until we were halfway along the trail the next day.
We woke early and packed quietly while the coffee brewed in the corner of the kitchen. Rain jackets, extra liner layers to keep the moisture off our skin, hats and back-up hats, sunglasses (we were still hopeful), gloves, two granola bars and three liters of water. I made eggs and potatoes—a breakfast fit for a hike—while Ann packed odds and ends into her bag. The camera, a pocket tool and a small roll of Tums were coming with us…
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