Today wasn't as bad as I thought it would be--maybe because I thought it would be bad. By the time we got to camp I even felt hungry instead of nauseated, as I did the other nights.
Being in the tent is my favorite part of the day, as long as I don't have to urinate. Here the hike and all its damage melt away and Chris and I stay up describing each of our aches and pains. My body only has one message for me these past few days: REST.
I think the man who runs the hut here is playing opera on his transistor radio. I can hear a soprano vibratto filtering down the hill. The hut seems empty, and the campsite only has one other person. There's a further hut that we hear is more popular, but I couldn't make it that far. Presumably that's where Yoshi is right now since he's not here. This morning he woke Chris up to tell him of another way out of the park that was only one-day's journey away, in case I thought I couldn't make it. That seems so long ago now.
No more Yoshi, I guess. All we have now is his email address and a picture. Speaking of pictures, I can't even imagine what I look like at the moment, after four days without washing my hair. I dare not peer into the compact mirror I brought for fear of what I'll see.
Well, tomorrow should be the most challenging hiking day of the trip. Boulder hopping for three hours, plus the usual. Must sleep.
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