Huckleberries may be the end of my thru-hike. I’m constantly stopping on the sunny hillsides to pick them by the sweet, juicy handful, staining my face and hands. When I catch up to ABear who will have been waiting for me up ahead, he’ll demand I show him my hands, proof I’ve been picking, and chide me.
They grow in open areas, so the fire-ravaged forests of Southern Washington are ideal berry fields. Native Americans one summered here, picking berries, racing ponies, hunting and hanging out. Such a life thru-hikers and hunter-gatherers have.
0 Responses to “The Original Bluetooth”