Fitful night. I remember a few disjointed dreams but don't feel rested. Wind is still howling. My gear is only slightly damp now, on account of the airflow. Striking camp is a challenge in this bluster. I hatch a plan to roll my tent body within the pole bag before removing stakes at the opposite end. I'm satisfied with my execution.
The initial portion today's hike is easy, over flat ground, much of it on raised boardwalk with plastic mesh stapled to it. Likely proves crucial when slippery. Clouds haven't quite blown away yet, though there are some patches of blue up there. Reasons for optimism. A brief detour to Soda Springs is...uninspiring. Still not great volcano viewing. Wind hasn't let up.
Easy part is over, now for some steep climbs. Wooden stairs built into the slope, in some cases embedded in poured concrete. Who's hauling concrete out here? High stepping into the fog. Black rocks in all directions. We're in Mordor now!
After what feels like an eternity I take the crest and enter a portion known as the Saddle. The ground here is flat, sandy, and much softer; like a beach. With fog this dense and without a sound I fear I have died and arrived in purgatory, or perhaps Limbo the nondescript non-space between worlds.
Out of the Saddle and up some more arduous climbs. I've passed many a kiwi who've turned back for fear of being blown off the ridge. Is that even possible? Push forward, ever upward; loose cobbles and scree my nemesis. Ankles smarting, knees aching, hips whining (hips don't lie); shoulders struggling to bear too much weight. Still nothing to see other than vague rock forms in the gloom. Another forever struggle and I've made it to this hike's highest ascent, Red Crater. Another total white out. Never before have I hiked through so much wind. And the fog...
It's not comfortable to rest here. Onward. I'm nearly skiing down scree here. In the gloom ahead I can just barely make out crater lakes by their slight, turquoise hues pressing through the gray wash. At the shores the fog lifts just enough for a good view. Sulfur fumes are giving me a headache. Still the gloom abounds. Still the wind blusters, unabated.
Descent from crater lakes offers best views yet. Red boulders tumbling down slope at geological pace. The wind is finally dying down. The fog peels away to reveal stark, black escarpments. I wish it would have been clear enough to witness Mt. Doom close up. Oh well...the misty shroud was its own kind of gorgeous.
Last leg of today's hike and I'm dying. Pull into camp after six hours of some of the most grueling hiking I've ever endured. Maybe volcanos aren't my jam. To bed with the promise of a much shorter hike tomorrow. I'm going to sleep in.
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