Once on trail you immediately find yourself in the bogs on the south end of the trail. Had I known the extent of the bogs we would have started at the north trailhead. My wife, a novice hiker, was using trekking poles for the first time and found them quite helpful in negotiating this muddy mess. She set a good pace following the yellow blazes of the well-marked trail and had we arrived on time we certainly would have covered the 15 miles I had planned for that day. However, Murphy had intervened and we were only able to cover about 9.5 miles before the sun was dipping below the trees.
The next morning, footsore, we set out on the trail with Rebecca leading the way and a surplus of miles left uncovered from the previous day’s debacles. She kept up a great pace until late morning when she bonked and I took over the navigational duties. Knowing how tired she was I set a slower pace and tried to give both of us a chance to look around and enjoy ourselves, instead on participating in a self administered endurance test.
Around mile 11, of that day, I realized that at our current pace there was no way to make it to the lake and head back before sundown. Due to a pair of light hikers that have since been retired Rebecca’s feet were in bad shape and couldn’t move much faster, so I decided to turn around early.
Back at our car my wife, a born and bred city girl, had handled it all very well but I knew she was at her limit. So I immediately searched my GPS for the nearest hotels and began calling to find out which one had a hot tub in the room. Finding one nearby we went directly there, checked in, cleaned up and went to grab dinner. Our little adventure was over; I still have no idea what started the fire, but my wife says it was an act of God to save her feet. All and all we had a good time and my Snake River Shorts could not have performed better.