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.