Waking up in the morning, I was quickly reminded why I was so sore. The day before, my hiking partner Lindsay had quickly become sick after our lunch of (go figure) peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and unsweetened trail mix. Because our bags were light, I offered to carry her pack for a while. She had begged me to carry it for like an hour, so I finally obliged. Once I burdened the full weight, she spent the rest of the day asking me to carry it longer and laughing at me, pointing fingers and jogging ahead under the weight of nothing but her clothing. Meanwhile, I trailed behind, sweating and re-adjusting two backpacks like an undertrained, overworked, super weak, and pathetic Sherpa.
That morning, after a disgusting breakfast of Tofurkey Kielbasa and hummus, we hit the trail. Well, Lindsay hit the trail with energy, while I dragged behind, suffering the day-after symptoms of dueling backpacks.
Actually, before we started walking again, we spent some time at our makeshift animal hospital. And by “makeshift animal hospital” I mean “we watched a sick Nene drink unfiltered water from the only water source in the volcano.”
We hiked, down the crater, to the wall, and back out of the crater.
As soon as we returned to our car, we drove directly down from the volcano’s rim to the National Park Visitor Center, where we informed the 2 on-staff rangers about the sick Nene. A day later, I received an email requesting photos that I had taken of the little guy (named LeftEye, both for his sickly left eye and in reverence to 90’s pop sensation TLC.)
Here I am, preparing a meal that would turn disastrous for both of us.
ok. I’m sick of typing and uploading pictures. bye.
PS but first, here’s a video. wow, thrilling.