June 17

Today wasn’t so much busy as full. Carl, Linda and Patrick took me on a four-mile hike out to where a man named “Thumbs” lives. He is so named because he has an extra joint on both of his thumbs, so that they are the length of his ring finger. He really just has two extra ring fingers that happen to be opposable, and where his thumbs should be. He also lives four miles into the mountain, accessible only on foot, with his two llamas and cat. He’s definitely the textbook definition of a mega hippie, but with a degree in biochemistry. Anyway, we hiked out there to where he lives (right along Wind River) where the bridge to his land was destroyed. We looked for a place to cross but there wasn’t any place safe, so eventually Patrick shot one round off and Thumbs came running out of his cabin. He rigged up a half zip line, half rope swing to get across where the remains of the bridge were. He got across to us and talked for a while, then asked if we wanted to take the “swing-zip” back across and get the tour of his place. He eventually convinced us to go once he got a new rope to string across in addition to the one that was already there, so we helped him set that up then clambered across. That was lots of fun. After we got across the river we got the full three-hour tour…three-hour tour… of his land where he grows a variety of purple vegetables, lives in a cabin that he hasn’t cleaned in the last ten years, plays the bag pipes, and contemplates the absolute truth that the government is constantly trying to kill you and steal your stuff. He was a major talker, I suspect due to the fact that he only sees other humans about once a month.. or less. He showed us a purple pancake he made and the purple corn he made it with, which was interesting. After we got familiar with the place he mentioned that he was heading into town today and we decided to hike back with him. He spent an hour packing up the supplies he needs for a two-day trip in a backpack concocted of burlap cloth and ropes of varying thicknesses. During this time I made a “boyscout/hippie rock stack” (for lack of better words) to add to his collection and went and played around on the “swing-zip”. Then we hiked back! 8 miles through poison ivy and a tour of a “hippie commune of one” made for an interesting day. Plus dinner was great. MEAT!