Trek Log: Day 16

Our guide Paul's leg has gone from bad to worse.  Despite the blistering sun he refuses to take off the single fuzzy white warmer he wears wrapped below his knee, save for at dinner time.  The thick smell of his sweaty shin mixed with the powdered alfredo cheese makes eating torturous.  A meal hasn't gone by where I didn't nearly vomit.  I sometimes think I can not go on.

But I must go on.

Herb is recovering well from the squirrel attack.  The pompous man who wore expensive scented nut oils has been replaced by someone humbled by his own mortality.  With his thumbs gone, he often asks me to help him to set up his tent.  There is a resilience in him that I didn't expect.

I won't lie to you Jilly, it's been hell these last few days.  The optimism that began this adventure's all dried up.  Everybody here's in it for the money, but I'm the only one who's got a thing worth living for that doesn't have a price tag.  In three days time we'll reach the last base camp.  After that, if we can just find a way to hike to the moon, those gutless nay-sayers at NASA will be paying us through the nose.  I'm going to get you that skeleton transplant and then we can get married on a speed boat like we always talked about.  I love you Jilly,

-Barker

From when my hair was still long, I think.

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