The plan was lose, giving us time to change the route as we saw fit.  Although we wanted to summit Table Mt., if time was short, we could just meander around the local area and visit some lakes.  Setting off was fun as we spotted a woodpecker adding an extra room into his abode, making his home look AOK. 

At a clear-cut area I shushed Amber, telling her this is where the deer hung out.  One minute later, three black-tailed deer leapt in front of us, stopping only momentarily to see what spooked them.  I just wanted a little quiet time, but used the incident to make it look like I knew what I was doing.  We sauntered on, setting a rapid pace as the drizzle continued throughout the morning.  I glanced across Gillette Lake and didn't think we would have the time to summit, more so, I doubted I wanted to.  Without a view, I saw no point to expend the energy today.

Walking through clear cut areas always depresses me, but this area I had already known about.  I do remember what it used to look like and missed it.  The PCT used to bisect and old, canopy covered gas-line road,  continuing a hundred feet further down.  It then turned into a thin trail through new growth, sparse forests.  But now, it is just devastation, and one cannot enjoy the openness without first passing over the carnage.

We shuffled over the first four miles or so quite quickly, reaching Greenleaf Overlook.  We dropped our packs and sat in silence, staring across the gorge.  I reached into my pack and grabbed a couple of scrumptious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches Amber had made for our trip before Amber asked if we were going to summit today.  I mumbled something with a full mouth of food in the respect of "whatever we feel like."  She just smiled a peanut buttery grin.

Indeed the gorge had a lot more snow than two weeks ago, but as screwy as this winters weather had been in the PNW, I assumed it would be gone in a week or two.

After inhaling the sandwiches, we huffed our way up towards the intersection with the Jeep road, about a half mile before the Heartbreak Ridge trail.  Now climbing in the fog, visibility diminished along with any desire to summit.  Amber straggled behind, picking up a couple fern leaves lying along the trail.  I gained a minute or two on her, keeping an even pace, just to watch her as I let her catch up.

Although she looked bored, she wasn't.  She was just taking it all in, a form of meditation, if you will.  I thought I would break her out of her trance with a local woodland creature; The Rough Skinned Newt.  There comes a feeling of pride seeing your own flesh and blood holding one of the worlds most deadly amphibians on earth.  Just one of these things can kill 15-20 healthy adults(depending on source of information); creepy, but so cute.

We had a sit at the intersection and decided our route back should start by heading towards the Hot Springs.  What I had learned at Lena Lake paid off in spades on this hike as Amber smiled and told me she loved me.

We met a couple people on the way to Cascade Drive, one having a seven year old son that recently climbed Dog Mountain.  I gave the man kudos for getting his son in the out of doors before sharing some local information while petting their dogs.  Lately, I have been pondering having another hiking buddy, but it would have to wait at least a few months.

Road walking is harder than one thinks, especially when the road is angled to one side or the other.  Amber and I played tag while thumping the few miles we had before reaching a covered rest area.  We took out packs off before planning out the last part of our days events.  One thought was to hike out to Highway 14, but walking alongside cars speeding past, just inches away with drivers gawking at Bonneville's complex, did not seem too appealing, or wise.      

We packed up and chose a route that I had taken before, but the legal version of this route would require a ford.  Amber did not hesitate as she took her time combing the sides of the road, looking for anything interesting.  I laughed out loud thinking about the last time I walked down this road and the people I met.

We reached the summertime, red-necked whore of the area, better known as Kidney Lake, which sported less trash than usual.  Only beer cans, plastic bags, 40 inch off-road tires, diapers, 12 gauge shotgun shell casings, along with a few dozen fire pits could be found.  In summer, this place is packed full of jeeps, vans, and tarps, turning the area into a full-blown tent city.

We forded Gillette's outlet before the slog up to meet the PCT.  On or way up, I glanced back at Kidney Lake and thought it amazing what a little drizzle could do to such an overused area.  It would be such a beautiful spot if one just cared where they placed their refuse.

I waited for Amber at the top.  She was carrying some sort of bark that had the durability of rubber and refused to talk to me unless I pointed all my questions towards the bark.  I refused and called her a tree-hugger as she promptly replied with "I love trees!"

Before making Amber a promise to return in the warmer months to look for scorpions, I took a minute to gaze at Table.  I remember how it made me feel to make the summit with the conditions I faced and that satisfaction was still with me.  I made Amber drop the rubber bark before we thumped our way along the PCT, back to the truck.  Neither one of us was tired and had dinner and a symphony to get to, so we double-timed it back through the mud with an hour and a half to spare.

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