DAY 7
Woke up in my bed. Can't say I really recall gettin' there but all is good.
Too windy out on that bluff for cookin' coffee or breakfast, so grabbed a coupla pop-tarts and off I went. Ice situation in the cooler weren't good. And didn't have no coffee, so commenced to drinkin' beer. Killin' 2 chickens with one rock.
Them steady grades comin' down proved lot harder than I expected climbin' out. Draggin' 25 hun'erd pounds of dead weight makes a HUGE dif'rence. What normally woulda been 2nd gear one-wheel-drive ended up bein' 3rd gear in 4-lo with the rear locker kicked in.
Drove down to my campsite and dropped off the trailer and headed to Top of the World. Didn't see nary a soul this whole time 'till I got way up the trail. Past where the return loop joins back.
Come up on 3 JKU's on 37's. Swear they're like sugar cookies ... all from the same cookie cutter and you just choose the color of the icin'. You know the ones ... your wife drives it to the Starbucks to get her vanilla almond milk frocha-mocha latte. One in front of me was white and flounderin' on a ledge. Bad line and bad technique made it obvious it weren't gonna work. He sure hammered on it a few times though. Then moved over and took one of the hun'erd by-passes made by the thousands of lesser drivers and/or lesser vehicles.
When he was clear, I crawled right up it. Then realized he was outta the jeep and walkin' towards me. I assumed it was to 'fess up that he's a piss-poor driver behind the wheel of his wife's jeep. But no. He said they was killin' time on the ledges 'cause the trail ahead was jammed up. Group of late-model Ram Power Wagons. 25 of 'em for shit sake! Evidently they been winchin' and strappin' each other all day to get this far.
So let's do some cypherin' here ... 25 trucks and 3 jeeps ahead of me. 28 rigs. Let's say each one needs 5 minutes for the mandatory photo op at the top. That's 140 minutes. And we ain't quite to the top yet. And then I'll be stuck behind 'em goin' back down. And I only got 1 beer left that's floatin' in water at this point.
Popped open the last beer and turned 'round and bounced back down the trail to camp. Fail.
Aired up all the tires, dumped both gas cans in the tank, hooked the trailer, and made camp. With an 18-pack in the DC fridge in the galley.
Social distancin' ... no mask required.