It's good to see Mike. We hang out at the beach for awhile, talking and throwing rocks at swarms of mating insects. Early on, I hit a pair in mid-flight, dead on, with an amazing shot neither one of us can duplicate. Like two little boys, we endlessly try to though.

We grab a spot at the Apgar campground and then decide to go for a day hike out near the Avalanche Creek area. As we trek out to the road, I tell Mike about how my red Outdoor Research hat is lucky for hitchhiking. Just after I say this, and just before we get to the road where we want to start hitching, a mini-van pulls up along side of us.

"Saw your red hat," says Kathy. Yes! It's Kathy and John and the kids (by the way, I soon learn that Kathy's daughter's name is Emily) coming by to give me a ride again. Kathy is nonplussed by the coincidence.

The van is as jammed as before and now we have to cram Mike in as well. He somehow manages to squeeze into a small space on the floor in the back seat and I take my "usual" spot in the front seat with the older boy.

Kathy tells us about an attractive day hike just south of Avalanche Creek that they are stopping at. We decide to hike there rather than try to get another ride. We follow a stream for a time and then shoot through a tunnel, under the road, and head up into an old growth forest with many felled trees. Huge boulders are strewn about. The path is deliciously spooky.

At one point the surroundings change, just as if stepping into a different room. The trees are smaller and the undergrowth is more varied as more light can penetrate -- leaving the haunted forest.

It starts to rain, but we don't care. We reach a lovely lily covered pond and watch the rain pour down in sheets. On the return hike the trail is a river in some spots. Both of us have remembered our rain gear, and our tent is already pitched. Let it rain!

Standing in the rain, dripping wet, lucky red hat in place, trying to hitch a ride -- who is going to pick up two wet, dirty, backpacking bums? A car with Washington plates stops!

Ever the obsequious hitchers, we immediately start complementing Washington as soon as we get inside the car. Mike finishes off our gushing with "nice people from Washington."

"Actually, we're from San Francisco."

Of course! We'd forgotten about the rental car theory. People in rental cars are the ones most likely to pick up wet dirty hitchhikers. It's like getting extra value out of your rental to return it filthy.

Dan and Anna flew into Spokane and drove into Glacier. They know people who work for the park service. They are an extremely nice couple. I tell them that one of my good friends lives in San Francisco. They try to guess the neighborhood when I tell them the street.

"Russian Hill?"

"No, west of there."

"Pacific Heights?"

"No, I don't think his neighborhood is interesting enough to have a name yet."

Ready for another amazing coincidence? Mike reveals to me that when Kathy and John stopped to give us a ride, he had the impression that they had stopped because they'd recognised him! Mike believes he met John when we had split up to scout out campsites.

He remembers seeing a large group of Amish people in a campsite and staring at them in wonderment. An old man called out to him: "How's your hike?"

"Haven't started yet, starting tomorrow," replied Mike.

He chatted some more with the man, but he was distracted by the Amish and because he was looking for a campsite. Mike is not sure whether the man he met is John.

We decide that we have to find out.

We try to retrace Mike's steps, but wind up heading in the reverse direction around the "B" loop (we're camping in "A" loop). Things look familiar to Mike, but it's getting dark and he's uncertain. "B" loop has a much different feel than "A" loop. It is more lived in. Smoking campfires are everywhere, clothes hanging on lines, toys strewn about, lots of children running around. A van has a hose sticking out of it, heading into a bucket. A small group sings folk songs with a guitar player.

Then we see Amish people! Lots of them around a trailer decorated with white and black laundry hung up on lines. Many children with the same face play nearby.

"Hi, saw that red hat!"

It's Kathy! She's in the midst of the Amish people, talking with them. Mike and I are dumbfounded. Then John comes up. They are right near the Amish people.

Mike is certain now. He did talk to John before we got the ride from them.

I'm starting to make a believer out of him.

Mike and I talk about some uncomfortable childhood memories before we go to sleep. I tell him one story that actually gets me shaking. I'd had no idea things from the past could still affect me that way.

I'm prepared to deal with Mike's snoring in the tent. It's usually at a level I can handle and only occasionally rises to buzzsaw level.

I wasn't prepared for his other sleeping eccentricity.

Mike shakes me out of a deep sleep. An emergency? No, my sleeping mind says no, there is no emergency. A bear perhaps? Mike is in a panic. He's hitting me and shouting.

I start to rise out of the depths. I'm talking with Mike, but still not awake yet. Our subconscious minds are communicating and I don't remember the conversation until I'm more awake.

Me: "It's all right."

Hurmpd!? {panic}"

"Yes, it's ok."

"Sure?"

"Yes, it's all right."

I'm not particularly calm myself. I'm trying to convince both of us. We're both wide awake now and I'm more shaken than Mike. Despite my words, I've let some adrenaline shoot through my system. I have to walk outside to bring myself down.

It turns out Mike had a nightmare about the tent falling into a crevasse. He'd camped near one on Rainier, where he'd needed to be responsible for the safety of several neophyte mountaineers. He dreamed that our tent was moving down into a crevasse.

Responsibility for other people's lives can build up a lot of pressure.

Postscript - Four years later I read the words: "Responsibility for other people's lives can build up a lot of pressure." They ring too true for me now. Sybil's cancer seems to be spreading uncontrollably and I'm constantly trying to find a way to make her better. I'm a bit of a mess right now but I'll be all right.

We need a long ride to the "loop" trailhead the next morning. Luck remains our companion when a black conversion van with New York plates stops before too long. The interior is loaded with crates of teas, coffee, chocolates, and myriad other supplies. Blankets are drawn over the windows. A television hangs from the ceiling. Mike and I can barely fit in the back of this huge van because of so much stuff.

An Israeli couple, Tal and Avital, purchased this van in New York and are driving it to California, hitting "everything" along the way. They are two of the most jaded travellers I've ever met. Tal points to a Rand McNally map of the US. "We've been to all the green areas on the map. All over." This is in only three months. Avital is not at all impressed with the States, "too commercial" she says. This from people who have a "Where the Heck is Wall Drug" bumper sticker on their van.

If their Glacier experience is anything like the rest of their journey, it consists primarily of speeding through it (tailgating anyone in front of them while Tal pretends to shoot at them with his finger) and stopping for an occasional photo. They are particularly interested in taking pictures of snowfields. Snow seems to impress them far more than travelling through America.

I'm being hard on them because experienced travellers tend to snub whirlwind touring. For someone who incorporates travel into his philigion, their travelling style is anathema.

Still, they are a nice young couple who are out having some adventures. They tell us some things about Israel (seemingly a far more interesting place in their eyes than the States) that I didn't know about. Always good to get other perspectives.

When we leave them, Mike brings up the subject of Jewish women: "I really love the way Jewish girls look." He is remembering the way Avital's stomach was exposed below her full figure and how her pants were too tight. Mike describes her look as "70's retro".

"Who doesn't?" I reply.

Mike is surprised at my automatic response. He points out that we both spent our formative years growing up in Jewish neighborhoods and this is why we find Jewish features (nose and eyes) attractive on women.

Never really thought about it before, but I guess he has a point.

It feels great to be going into the backcountry again. My short solo trip was the perfect appetiser. Now for the main course!

Not too far in, we stash some things we won't need off the trail. I leave Babe behind as guard beast. (P.S. - I've had Babe for a month now and even all cleaned up I can't tell what he's supposed to be.)

Postscript - Now, I still have Babe after four years! Babe sits on top of a metal stand loaded with plants and peeks out from underneath the foliage.

Yow! I am one very elated hiker -- waterfalls, mountains, wildflowers, and berries all over! What a beautiful trail on another perfect day!

We stop in the middle of a waterfall to admire the view and so Mike can take pictures. He slips in the water and his water bottle comes precariously close to plunging over a steep precipice. For an instant I have a vision of him diving after it and good-bye Mike.

He's able to snatch it up without any trouble though.

Mike and I hike in almost continual amazement. This is some of the best hiking we've experienced. A fair bit of climbing though and the campsite seems farther away than it's marked distance. I'm soaked through with sweat when we arrive.

There's blooming bear grass on top of Flattop mountain! Beautiful white, billowy blossoms, like a furry white fox tail, and with an earthy honey smell.

I remember my rationalization back at the ranger's presentation. Who says you can't have it all?

I'm in serious need of some aeration! No one else is around the campsite so I go around naked for a bit while we're setting up. Then I switch to underpants and a jacket to keep the bugs off.

Mike is off setting up the tent and I'm cooking when a young foreign guy pops in. I try to talk to him but he seems put off by my appearance (can't imagine why) and hurries off.

Mike comes down to eat some red bean soup, and then our usual noodle dish. The young foreign guy returns to make some Lipton noodle soup. He is carrying a suitcase, wearing clean, well-ironed clothing, and Birkenstocks. His hair is combed. He looks like he's dressed for a date!

I'm seriously grubby looking, still without shirt, and Mike is making great progress at moving beyond unkempt. We both have our jackets, on with the hoods up, as the mosquitoes are bad around here. We've both pinched the top of our hoods back so we can see. We look like fishermen who have been out at sea for too long.

The foreign guy studies us for a moment and says: "Can I ask why you are doing that with your hoods?"

I explain to him that we're trying to make a fashion statement.

His name is Jiri and he is from Prague. It turns out he's on an even larger and more whirlwind trip than the Israeli couple! He's moving around mostly by Greyhound bus (he has a pass) and sometimes by hitching.

Here's Jiri's itinerary:

Montreal - Colorado - Banff - Jasper - Mt. Robison - Yukon Territory - Denali (Alaska/Denali reference #3) - Kenji Fjords - Anchorage - Seattle (20 day mark!) - Olympic NP - Crater Lake - Redwoods - San Francisco - Yosemite - Death Valley - Grand Canyon - Zion - Bryce Canyon - Capitol Reef - Arches - Grand Tetons - Yellowstone - Glacier (he's only at the 40 day mark here!).

Then he's planning on continuing with:

Chicago - New Orleans - Miami - Everglades - New York - New Brunswick - Nova Scotia - Prince Edward Island - Montreal.

Then back to Prague after 60 days total. Three months. Is this guy nuts or what? His traveling method is so ridiculously frenetic that I kind of like it.

Here's some email I got from Jiri after the end of his trip:

Return-Path: <[email protected]> Organization: University of Economics, Prague, CZ

To: [email protected], [email protected] Date: Wed, 9 Oct 1996 12:14:04 GMT+OIDST Subject:

Priority: normal

X-Charset: ASCH

X-Char-Esc: 29

Dear friends,

when we have been talking last time you made a joke that during my trip in North America I necessary must get infected by moving-mania. Unfortunately, you was right. Since I returned from Montreal I am in a deep depression because I just don't move. Last weekend I invented for myself a therapy program: hunting mushroms (sic). It's only a partial because it has two defaults.

First, I am moving only 60 km from Prague, second, I don't eat them. But anyway. How are you? Did you visit Minot in Dakota on your way back home? Also don't forget to send me copy of the story you was writing in Glacier!

The last site at Flattop is taken by a couple from Montreal, John and Anne. They hiked part of the way in with Jiri, who coincidentally is starting and ending his North American odyssey in Montreal.

Mike and I are nearly finished with our meal and we watch John and Ann unpack their food with growing astonishment: two enormous chicken breasts, sauce to make chicken cacciatore, fresh fou-fou salad greens, a large cantaloupe, exotic Peruvian coffee blend with companion special coffee brewer, a full slab of bacon, eggs, and a bottle of red wine. These people know how to eat!

One time, John and Anne travelled for five days through the French Pyrenees and ate fresh food the entire trip. They packed it in ice! Actually, I can understand going the gourmet route in the French Pyrenees, but it seems strange in Glacier.

John and Anne are very generous with all of their stuff. John shares chicken, wine, salad, cigarettes, and even marijuana. Just when we thought we couldn't fathom any more indulgence, Jiri pulls out a huge bottle of Italian sparkling wine from his suitcase! I'm flabbergasted. All three of them are hiking out tomorrow, so I guess it's not that unreasonable to haul all that extra weight in ("I'm a pack horse", says John) but I've never seen anyone else bring these things into the backcountry.

I'm very happy to yogi off them though. What are the odds of meeting both Jiri and John/Anne at the same campsite?

John just had some business in Missoula. He's looking for AIX professionals to work there. I tell him I could do that. (Don't want to though.)

Anne is a judge, specializing in the Health and Insurance field. She's recently returned to school to get a Master's in Heath Administration. Trying to change her career. They have two children, 11 and 12 years old. They have a nanny.

While smoking, John says that the less developed countries tend to smoke more. I offer the alternative argument that countries with high smoking rates tend to place a greater emphasis on food in their culture (France, China, Japan). Oral fixation.

John and Anna tell a hilarious story of how they raised a cat from a small kitten but had to get rid of it because it turned out to be a lynx! The people in their complex complained.

I could just imagine their pet bobcat dropping off a dead poodle on the doormat.

We talk about weird inventions that need to be created. I suggest a gortex jacket that kills mosquitoes on contact. For some unknown reason, Anne thinks this is hilarious.

At one point John leans back against a log and lets loose with a tremendous fart. Later, when we're alone, Mike says, "I like a man who's not afraid to fart in public in front of his wife." I goad him into refining his statement to "I like a woman who let's her husband fart in public without comment."

I tell Mike he is attracted to Anne's type.

"What type is that?"

"The long, lean, angular, independent, smoking blond." I cite an example.

Mike is impressed that I can read him so well.

In the tent, Mike's snoring starts to bother me a lot more than usual. Instead of lying around getting frustrated I decided to turn this misfortune into adventure. I go outside and walk around the flat top of the mountain. Although it is quite cold and I am naked, I am not discomforted. Stars! The stars astound me!

Despite the extreme darkness, I'm able to move around very well, albeit slowly and cautiously. I'm drawn into the night and become a part of it -- a night creature.

Returning to the tent I'm able to calm my elation and fall asleep. Mike is no longer snoring.

"It's happening again. I'm having that dream again. Who's helping me? Is there somebody helping me?" Mike is talking loudly in his sleep again, having the same nightmare as the other night. Interesting that he recognizes he's having a dream while in the middle of sleep talking.

"Probably." Wake me up out of a deep sleep and I'm immediately a wise ass. Actually, I took his question seriously.

Still sleeping, Mike turns on his flashlight and examines the tent. I watch his eyes and am amazed at how he can shine a bright light in a dark tent while remaining asleep.

Mike doesn't remember this the next day until I tell him about it. He says he once again dreamt the tent was moving towards the crevasse of his nightmares.

He used the light to check that the tent wasn't moving.

We get off to a good start the next day by timing our breakfast to coincide with John and Anne's. We remember that they have an entire slab of bacon to cook. We get a few pieces.

John spills a large amount of grease on the ground. He tries unsuccessfully to ignite it. "The sign says 'no wood fires', but not a word about grease fires." When he can't get it lit I suggest napalm. He finally winds up digging up the greasy muck and packing it out. He really is a pack horse!

John poses everybody for pictures and stumbles after setting up the autoshoot. Still makes it in time though. Everyone is in a good mood.

Later, I'm sitting with Mike drinking tea. "Wow, I just saw a bee shit!" he says.

'Really? Where?"

"On your pack."

"Where?"

"It's tiny," he says pointing, "it just comes out pink."

We've decided not to move on this day. The plan is to hang around Flattop getting fat and happy. We move over to a meadow and lay down in the sun. Wildflowers are everywhere.

"This is romantic," says Mike.

It is?" emphasizing my perplexity.

"Yes, lying here by the flowers in the meadow. We just need two chicks to go by." Pause, laughing. "You in your underwear."

We eat gorp. Reading, writing, joking, talking, laying in the sun, waiting for breezes. "This is not working for me," says Mike. "Too many big things floating around my head. I wouldn't mind little things." We move off a bit, away from the flowers so as not to attract too many bees to Mike's head.

"Want a wet nap?" I ask, pulling some out of the remains of my MRE'S.

"No." Pause. "A wet nap," laughing at the name.

"Yes, kind of like a wet dream, only not as much."

After I finish cleaning my face and neck with it, I say: "Ahh, the wet nap was very refreshing."

Mike wants to find lessons in the meetings we've had with people.

We decide the lesson from Jiri and the Israelis is to beware of travelling too quickly. When you catch yourself doing this it's time to ask whether you're trying to check off places you've been to or to fully appreciate where you are at the moment.

Mike interjects that perhaps the Jiri/Israeli lesson is to teach me how to see Minot during the extremely short time we'll be stopping there on the train ride. Yes! I immediately think of the chapter heading in advance: "Ten Minutes in Minot".

The lesson from John, Anna, and Jiri was one of gratification and indulgence, and paying the price for it. Weighing the worth of luxury versus payment (effort, money, time). For me, I prefer to simplify my life as much as possible, and perhaps I go overboard with this sometimes. So, I could learn to indulge a little bit more.

The lessons from John and Kathy was of being a good Samaritan and of the strange connectedness of life.

Finally there is the important road lesson of yogiing. This is where you learn to accept things from other people who have plenty to give. A more difficult lesson for me to learn than one might assume. Taking things from people is not always an act of sponging. You can build bonds through yogiing.

Mike asks me for the origin of the word. I tell him it comes from a combination of Yogi bear, who would take picnic baskets from well fed day trippers, and the Indian yogi's who would have to rely on others for much of their minimalist needs.

For me, yogiing is to gratefully accept from those who have plenty and to generously share when you have extra or with those in need.

Mike observes that I study travel, and that it is part of my religion/philosophy. He points out that the studying aspect is significant for me.

Very true Mike.

"I was thinking the other day that I'm only a fair backpacker, but I'm a great traveller," I say.

"Why do you think you're only a fair backpacker!" says Mike.

"I don't have that meticulous attention to detail and planning that a great backpacker needs. Would a great backpacker endanger himself as often as I do? Would a decent backpacker wind up with such a killer last day out?"

My last comment refers to the fact that due to a miscalculation on my part (Hey, at least I caught it! Mike didn't even notice the potential problem.) we will have to hike out nearly 20 miles on our last day, with fair elevation change. Plus we need to get out early enough to catch a ride.

Mike is unmoved by my argument.

"Part of the adventure," he says.

I agree, but argue the opposite. "Yes, but you need to be more planned to be a successful backpacker. Too much is on the line. With general travelling, the key is in being able to go with the flow and take advantage of whatever comes your way."

Back in camp, I see a group of nerdy college guys wandering around, looking for the campsites. They seem confused by the very simple map of the area that is posted on a sign. All of them are wearing very jinggly bear bells.

I meet Mike down at the eating area and tell him about the confused greenhorns with their cute little lamb bells.

"I heard," says Mike, "I though Heidi was coming up the mountain."

"Probably atomic scientists," I say.

I'm close. They are MIT students. From this point on, we refer to these guys as either "Heidi Boys" or "MIT Greenhorns".

Alan and Joel are the first ones to come down to the cooking area. They know our names from meeting John/Anne/Jiri on the trail. They make some falafel.

Alan: "Will you guys be here for about twenty minutes?"

Me: "We'll be here for about twenty hours."

Alan: "Can we leave the falafel here?"

Me: "A bear might come around and try to eat your food, but we'll fight him off."

They leave for a long while -- a long while after we finish our food. Mike starts to eye their falafel.

"Maybe one of them is in behavior psychology and they're testing us by leaving the food here," I say.

Mike breaks down and takes a taste. I take a taste. Mike takes some more.

"Good, needs spices."

They don't notice when they return, with another greenhorn, Chris. Chris thanks us for watching their stuff. We tell him we had to fend off several bears.

Mike finds out that Joel studies geology. Joel wears a white, nerdier version of an Indian Jones hat.

Mike: "You look like you study geology. You've got the hat for it."

Joel: "I know. That's the plan."

Me: "First you got the hat, then you got the plan."

Joel: "Right."

Alan: "So you're putting everything you hear in the journal?"

Mike: "Yes, the things he sees. The people he meets."

Me: "Only people who are significant. The jury's still out on you guys."

Me (to Alan): "You're sitting right where John spilled about a pint of bacon grease. A bear's going to bite your ass."

He moves. Later, he sits down again to eat.

Me: "Now your sitting where Anne spilled about a cup of chicken blood."

Mike: "He's not kidding." (I'm not, she really did.)

Alan tentatively moves over a bit.

Alan: "Anything happen here?"

Me: "Well, John produced a tremendous fart right there, but that should be all right."

Food Fungus, Wayne and Gang Lu

Chris studies environmental engineering. He talks about bacteria and how it can be used to degrade oil.

Mike is playing with his ugly bare feet while cooking. "You should take a look at Mike's feet," I say. "I'm sure you could find something there that would degrade oil."

Chris offers to take a sample back to the lab.

Mike: "Matt doesn't know it, but I've been flavoring the food with my foot fungus."

Me: "I do know it. This is why I'm experiencing all of these amazing coincidences I've been writing about.

The greenhorns have been mentioning their final companion, Wayne, from time to time. It's been a long while and we've never seen him.

Joel: "Wayne is probably taking a nap."

Me: "Actually, we were thinking Wayne is your imaginary friend."

When Wayne finally makes an appearance we learn he is from Iowa, where I lived for many years. When he learns I was a Physics undergraduate at the University of Iowa he immediately mentions the Gang Lu shootings.

Gang Lu was a disgruntled Physics student who, upset that a rival student beat him out of an award, went on a shooting rampage, killing several people. I remember getting a call from a university administrator telling me to keep everyone out of the hallways because he was on the loose. I had to walk down deserted halls locking up lab rooms for fear that he might be hiding in there. I was pretty scared. They eventually found Gang Lu in a closet, after he had committed suicide.

I relate that my ex-wife was, for a brief time, a Chinese conversation partner with Gang Lu, and I met him briefly. My impression of him was that of an ugly, lascivious fellow with bad teeth who fancied himself a lady's man but certainly couldn't have been very successful at it. I later learned that this was an impression of him shared by many people. He was weird, but one meets strange people all the time.

You just don't expect them to go around shooting people.

This night I stand outside talking with Mike for a long time. We watch the stars and talk about relationships. I've had some questions bouncing around my mind on this subject and Mike has some interesting insight to offer.

I'm not going to relate the details of our conversation because it was very long and mostly personal.

Postscript - OK, I guess I can reveal some of them now. A lot of the conversation was about a woman I'd just met named Sybil. We had a difficult time understanding each other early in our relationship. We eventually worked things out and I later wound up marrying her.

We stand outside so long we can notice the rotation of the stars. It's a beautiful night.

When we finally go inside, we both sleep peacefully.

It's just possible that the hike to our next campsite at Fifty Mountains is even better than the trip to Flattop. Seems like a much easier hike too, although it's not supposed to be.

While hiking I talk with Mike about prioritising temporal thoughts. In other words, how often one's thoughts are spent concentrating on past, present or future events. For me, I spend a lot of time thinking about the present, some time in the future, and not very much at all in the past. Mike says he spends a lot of time thinking about the future, some time in the present, and a less in the past.

I think the fact that we both prioritise past thinking last is significant. I don't think a lot of other people do (if they're really honest about it) and it is something I have in common with Mike.

Fifty Mountains is probably the best campsite I've ever seen in a National Park. It is literally surrounded by marvelous mountains. A joyful creek runs down one side and a nearby valley is filled with wildflowers and sculpture garden boulders. The mule deer are a bit of a nuisance, but it's perfect in every other respect.

We get into camp so early that we decide to take a hike up to the Sue Lake overlook. This is really something -- truly awesome views. I can't do it justice in words. I'll never forget standing at the top of the suddenly windy overpass, looking down on mysterious Sue Lake, still surrounded by snowfields. The wind makes strange rippling motions on the lake. One time it somehow starts a ripple in the exact center of the lake and the waves cascade out to the edges -- a magical sight.

The MIT greenhorns have also hiked out to Fifty Mountains. Despite arriving many hours after we do, they also have time for a bonus excursion. However, instead of choosing the fabulous Sue Lake overlook, they try to scramble up and over the side of the mountain next to it.

They wind up turning back right before reaching their pass. I'm sure it must have been disappointing, but they probably showed a rare bit of backcountry wisdom by not taking the risk of climbing down in the dark.

Besides the greenhorns, there are several other people staying here, as this is one of the largest backcountry sites in Glacier. There's Jake, from Water's Ferry Idaho, out for the weekend. There's ranger Kim Peach (Mike and I joke that his name is a perfect fit for a transvestite porn star) who saw five bears hiking in from Granite Park. There's Jenna and Emily (Emily #3) who work as guides for an outdoors adventure company. Jenna lets me yogi some of her pudding and shows us some pretty good card tricks. There's three people, two guys and a woman, who work in Water's Ferry Idaho doing some sort of fish management. Steve is one of them, and he has a Denali hat (Alaska reference #4). Steve also went to the same high school in San Luis Obispo, California as Heidi boy Chris. They talk about this interminably. I can picture the other guys' face, but can't find his name in my notes. He was a pleasant enough fellow though. I can also picture the woman's face, but have lost her name too. She was from Palos Heights, Illinois, which is south of Chicago, and like me, she went to school in Iowa. She's run marathons, so I talk about that with her. Mike and I both find her very interesting even though she is quiet.

Steve tells me he's taking a survey. He's had a discussion with the Palos Heights woman about the usefulness of bringing deodorant on a backpacking trip. He wants to know my opinion.

"Pretty futile," I say. "Like using a squirt gun on a forest fire." Definitely the truth in my case.

We sit out, looking for bears in the valley where ranger Kim says they often pass through. Don't see any though.

A mule deer steals the underwear of the Palos Heights woman and she races after it. She eventually gets it back -- a bit slimy but intact.

Eveyone here is nice.

I've been telling Mike about lucid dreaming and how I've learned to direct my dreams to the point where I can control them. Experimenting with this has also led me into intense out of body experiences. It's a subject I used to spend a lot of time thinking about.

It seems to me that Mike has the potential to become a very effective lucid dreamer because he is able to sustain a high level of mental alertness without waking up. A lucid dreamer walks a very fine line between sleep and waking. One of the most difficult parts of mastering the technique is to prevent yourself from waking up when you start to have a lucid dream or out of body experience. If Mike can sleep while turning on a flashlight, he should be able to sleep through the excitement of having a lucid dream!

I also think that learning to control his dreams will help him with his nightmares. Having to deal with nightmares was one of the reasons I became so interested in controlling my dreams.

I tell Mike that one of the first steps to lucid dreaming is to recognize when you are in a dream state. Tonight, Mike shows signs that he is just about there. His nightmare is less intense and he seems to get a grip on it right away.

"Help, help. There's something I'm supposed to remember to do. Something I have to do." He wakes and quickly gathers himself. It seems like he knows where he is much faster than the other times. "Sorry to have to wake you," he says.

"It's ok."

Just when you think you can't see anything more beautiful than you already have, you see something else. The hike from Fifty, Mountain to Stoney Indian Lake is fabulous. I'm feeling very blessed.

We consider climbing over the pass instead of hiking around the mountain, but decide not to because my right foot, the one I injured on the trip out from Lincoln Lake, is bothering me again. This is a wise decision because I become progressively more lame as the day continues.

Just past the trail maintenance hut, we run into three nice Canucks -- an older geologist and two younger Indian guys. They are on a day hike to Stoney Indian. We wind up leap frogging past each other throughout the day. I tease them about trying to stake a claim on the lake for Canada.

We also run into the ex-Valley Girls I met in the permit line! I stop to talk with one of them for a bit. They are coming out from the lake, getting a late start. As they leave, I notice they've dumped the one woman who didn't quite seem to fit (Maria?) for a handsome young hunk who is following one of them. A good trade for them.

The campsites at Stoney Mountain are more secluded than the more open Fifty Mountain sites and about as perfect. A stream rapidly falls off from the lake down, way down, into a picturesque valley. The lake is named after one of the several Indian tribes that used to inhabit the area.

Two young Japanese hikers share the small cooking area with Mike and me. They have a lot of interesting Japanese food. I decide to yogi.

First I warm them up with a general question. "Where are you guys coming from?"

"Japan," says one.

"Yes, I'd guessed. I mean where have you just come from on your hike?"

It takes them a full five minutes before they can get me to understand the words "Elizabeth Lake". Must be a very difficult name for Japanese people to say.

"What's that you're making there?"

Pause. They whisper to each other in Japanese. Then one says solemnly "Japanese food!".

Am I imagining that the tone and emphatic nature of his voice suggests the addition of "not for Americans!"?

"Yes, but what kind of food?"

Pause. Whispers. "Rice!"

They add a packet of something to the rice dish. I ask what it is. Whispers. Pause. More whispers. Finally: "Vegetables!"

I give up. I cannot yogi from the Japanese yet. We, as Americans, must learn how to do this. I imagine the Japanese hikers have detailed guidebooks (BTW, have you ever looked at all the cool maps they have in Japanese guidebooks?) warning them not only of hungry grizzly bears but also of yogiing American backpackers. They probably have a picture of me in one of those books with a big warning message in Japanese below it.