Through the woods

"I made it over the mountains, now through the woods, to Canada I go."
That little one line ditty (to the tune of 'to grandmother's house') has certainly been jangling through my head for the past couple hundred miles... that and the Adam's family song (the short one about Uncle Fester farting). Clearly the trail is improving my musical taste.
After three days of eating and sitting on the couch watching the food network with Frog and Rif-Raf the latter two of us got back onto the trail. Frog, being struck by a serious bout of GI distress, was in no condition to contend with the trail at that time. We planned to meet up with him again when we hiked up to Truckee.
For three days we hiked along a beautiful rim which offered views into valleys of pine and fir. They rolled away into the seemingly eternal distance. At some points we were walking along the highest ledge of the earthen rim, at our feet were an assortment of fragrant flowers, over the ledge we could catch glimpses of Lake Tahoe. Often the heat made us wish we could leap the distance to the water. There were certainly enough water sources to make it but we were still in 'Sierra Mode', expecting to encounter water at every turn. Delicious, pristine, icy cold water. While we were still technically in the Sierras, conditions had changed. We have had to go back to purifying the water, as the source is not usually immediately identifiable. We had to carry water for 10 mile stretches, and let me tell you, the heat was making us sweat, and sweating means you need to drink; a lot.
The end of that short section was a descent down an exposed ridge, to Donner Pass. I found it invigorating. We hitched a ride into Truckee with a traveling locksmith, as we wound down from the pass I missed most of the conversation for all the jangling keys and the fact that my chair was rolling about; I thought it was really fun.
Once in town we met up with Frog and his lovely lady, Nancy. Frog was looking thin and wan and Nancy was looking concerned. Unable to hold much down in the way of food is tough on a hikers' body. We spent a day or so enjoying one another's company and then met up with a gathering of Frog and Nancy's friends at a decadent French restaurant where we enjoyed a five course meal in celebration of Bastille Day. The tiny 'Le Bistro' was something from a different planet as far as I could tell, but this did not diminish my appreciation of the succulent and elaborately decorated tidbits which were set before us. Everything was wonderful and a memory to which I knew I would be clinging as I ate dinner on the trail for the next several weeks. This did not change the fact that by the time we got back to our camp I was digging in my bag for a snack. Trail hunger has set in.
Again we got back to wandering northward. Unfortunately Frog was still under the influence of his illness and did not have the weight to sustain his body through it so he had to head back to San Francisco with Nancy for some serious healing time.
Mercifully for Rif-Raf and I, the trail kept to tree cover, somewhat easing the sweltering, humid heat which had set in. Despite it I was feeling strong and, as the terrain was so much easier than the past several hundred miles had been, I wanted to test myself as far as miles. We hiked a 30 mile day. I stopped at a water source at about 6 and, in order to avoid having to carry my dinner water to what would be a dry camp, I cooked right there. At about 8:30 I rolled into camp and flopped down, a bit tired, not too worn but so very very content.
As I lay in my sleeping bag, reviewing notes for the next day I saw that we would have a swimming opportunity in about 11 miles at the Middle Fork Feather River. While I was thrilled at the idea, I had no idea just how great of a spot it would turn out to be.