Happy Father’s Day. Ingrid and I both did call our fathers and we both got answering machines. We packed up most of that day and then went to the rangers station to meet Miriam, a lady Jason knew who lived at the top of the six mile hill we were about to climb. She told us we could camp out on her lawn up there and would be expecting us.
We meandered about a bit, still packing things up and getting some laundry done. Then, I went out to tell Jason we were heading off as he was demonstrating the atlatl to some tourists. As soon as we got out there a lady fired off a spear and hit the fake deer square in the heart. It was her second throw. We told him goodbye and then left. Congratulations to your hit, lady.
Back on the road we walked leisurely until we came across the small town of Orme. It is basically a near ghost town with a train station that no longer has rails by it. We sat there and rested before the big climb ahead of us, both of us thinking about Ingrid’s bum knee.
The hill was mighty steep, twisty, and wooded. It was beautiful country, but once again Ingrid’s knee was not having it and the solution for that problem was coming closer and closer to our minds to being admitted to. By the end of all that winding, and an additional four miles after it to the house, her knee was nothing but a happy ball of pain again.
When we got there it was just about dark and a storm was brewing on the horizon. Miriam and her friend Nicole were taking in the horses and suggested we stay in their guest bedroom for the night instead of in the rain. Miriam’s dad was inside so we hung out with him as they finished their chores.
Her dad left after they got in, but they made us supper and we chatted about the walk and fun things like that. All the while in the background a caveman show was looping on the Discovery channel. They went to bed, and the Ingrid followed, but I stayed up watching caveman history until 1am before turning in. It never rained.