Fran records an amusing video as we head back onto the Bigfoot Trail. The trail is simply marked with flagging tape at the side of the road. There is no visible cut through the bushes, no tread. No trail. Just flagging tape. Fran records us plowing into the bushes as we follow the flagging tape.
We follow that for a couple of miles, and then it gets worse. Much worse.
The flagging tape ends at an overgrown meadow. On the other side is an old abandoned road, but in between is overgrown, six foot high, thick brush. We cannot climb under it, nor over it. We push some branches upward, and climb onto others, trying to squeeze between. It is a solid wall to be slowly negotiated. The branches rip new holes in my pack. We cannot see the ground.
At one point, my right foot gets caught under three crossing branches. Standing on other branches on my left foot, I cannot get it free. Then I lose my balance and drop my butt onto the branches that have my right foot pinned. I find it comical, even though I am pretty stuck. I finally find a way to wiggle sideways and free my foot to stand up.
We finally pop out the other side. I have had one memorable bushwhack in my life, on the Oregon coast in salal bush. This was just as extreme, or more so.
We have several new scratches on our legs. Several are rather deep so I treat and bandage them to keep them clean. Blood oozes through the bandages, making them look worse than they really are. I guess I will have to cut back on swimming for a couple of days as they heal. Even a few weeks later, the injuries are still problematic.
13 miles to a small lake above the Lieutenant mountains, to mile 292.
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