I crossed Bear Creek at 5 p.m. Near here, I needed to stop again, but this time was because I feared a blister was forming on one of my feet.
This seemed unusual. By now, after hiking nearly 2,600 miles, the bottoms of each foot was covered in a thick callous. I'm not sure why I felt like I was getting a blister. When I looked, I didn't see one.
The campsite I had chosen was only 3.3 miles farther, and I arrived there five minutes before sunset. It was on the only flat spot in the canyon formed by the Middle Fork of the Feather River. A large, steel footbridge was nearby, which I will walk across tomorrow.
For now, I was just remembering how this day began. Or at least I was trying to. Even with the photos now in my camera, there was no way to fully capture the sunrise.
Memories of the quiet and enveloping fog, the cool and gentle breeze, the warmth of the filtered sun, and how I felt as I stood on the trail watching that scene were already fading. I tried to hold onto them as much as I could.