I've found the silence of the forest at night remarkable. The nocturnal creatures creep around as if they were in a library. The only noise is often the wind rustling through the trees.
Humans and their pets are not quite as polite. The evening's rest at Robinson Flat was repeatedly interrupted, first with the barking of my neighbor's dogs, then with the braying of a bitch in heat. She was heated anyway, proving the elasticity of the "f" word by using it with awesome frequency. I would estimated one of every two utterances within her screaming tirade. I'd almost feel bad for her man if he weren't likely the one responsible for bringing them here.
I left camp a little less than well-rested. Fortunately the route could be done while sleeping - the next twenty seven miles are on one paved road, heading mostly downgrade. The land is mostly uninhabited, mainly used as a recreation area. Snowmobilers, dirt bikers, and hikers all gallivant in the surrounding woods. On a weekday, however, few were in evidence.
My only problem was hydration. You would think a mountain range must be chock full of streams. The Sierras are well-stocked in that department, but with the snows melted and no precipitation of late the beds are dry. One lone rivulet I encountered early on supplied me for today. The tanks were low, however, as I searched for a place to camp. Goat Springs stood out on the map, a two bird killing solution. The ground was right, but the well empty. I had enough to hold out the night, but what of tomorrow?
18 miles/3863 total miles