Monday

          I woke up to an altimeter reading that I had hoped would have meant blue skies.  I sat around till noon waiting, then decided to move camp anyway.  Without the sled it meant two stages and everything was wet, which meant heavy.  Although it had not rained, the temperature has been mild.  Thus, the conditions are damp.

          My chosen spot is so beautiful I have second thoughts of disturbing the serenity.  The lake, although small, sits like a frozen jewel protected by ghostly behemoths veiled in their white shrouds: alien, eerie, stunningly beautiful.  I place my tent a short distance away, framing with my entrance, the lake, shadowed by Mt. Jefferson which is so close that the roar of its avalanching snows break the absolute silence.