I wake early from my epic stealth spot and begin the relatively short hike into Stratton. It is moderate and not overly steep. I roll into town kind of late at about five o’clock and check into the Stratton Motel/Hostel. Deacon grabs a private room at the “hotel” across the street. We have a few beers and both decide that a zero is definitely in order. My feet are killing me and I have a rapidly deteriorating big toe situation wherein three quarters of the nail has died and separated while a quarter is stubernly, and painfully still attached. It is bulging and angry. One fucking hiker suggested that a drill through the dead part of the nail might release the pressure and grant some relief. I will not print my response as this is a family blog.
At any rate, Deacon agreed that a zero without power drill treatments might do us some good. Happy trails.