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	<title>mike the mountain &#187; The Test of Trees</title>
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		<title>The Test of Trees (Part 01)</title>
		<link>http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/2009/08/16/the-test-of-trees-part-01/</link>
		<comments>http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/2009/08/16/the-test-of-trees-part-01/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Aug 2009 07:01:35 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Mike Lawton</dc:creator>
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		<category><![CDATA[The Test of Trees]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Drove far past where the roads turned to gravel, then dirt. Â Parked by a tall tree with bright leaves, flanked by a twisted spruce with dead red needles. Â Put one mountain peak at my back, a beckoning finger raised, and mark another in the distance. Â A sheer rock face at the end of a curving [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Drove far past where the roads turned to gravel, then dirt. Â Parked by a tall tree with bright leaves, flanked by a twisted spruce with dead red needles. Â Put one mountain peak at my back, a beckoning finger raised, and mark another in the distance. Â A sheer rock face at the end of a curving ridge, like soup pouring over the edge of a spoon.</p>
<p>(I&#8217;m already thinking of food.)</p>
<p>It takes me the rest of the day to reach the foot of the mountain face. Â Had to cross one small stream, trying to forget about it. Â Any foreknowledge of the area is against the rules.</p>
<p>I gather some wood, start a small fire (the easy way) and get some water boiling in a metal pot. Â Some goes in a foil pouch labelled &#8220;Chicken Enchillada&#8221;, the rest gets mixed with hot chocolate powder. Â I savor the taste of spice and sweet, eating and drinking at a pace to hold the memories on my tongue. Â I sleep in a tunnel of blue nylon held up by army surplus paracord. Â Tonight I am warm, dry, and full.</p>
<p>I don&#8217;t sleep.</p>
<p>(To be continued&#8230;)</p>
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