The Dipper was a small, nondescript bird, a leather teardrop the size of a chickadee. Despite its size it hopped around the river rocks confidently, as if the rapids were the wind parting around the smooth volcanic cobbles. When it wasn't flitting, swimming, or diving, it was dipping, bopping in place like it had tiny headphones hidden under its wee headfeathers. I'd never seen a bird so small swim like a duck- I didn't think the physics would work on that scale. It would perch on top of a small boulder, boppin', boppin', boppin' like the latest sesame street fad toy, then it would dive as powerfully and confidently as any hawk swooping down on one of its brothers. A few seconds later and a few feet downstream it would surface, swim to a rock, and start boppin' again.

We finished our almond butter sandwiches and headed back up the ravine to the old fence. Bagel and I set to peeling the staples off the metal posts while Grant and Doobie took on the frustrating task of prying staples out of the old wooden posts and digging out the long sunken nails that had been used to fasten the posts to trees. It was a pain to keep those little staples, who loved to poing off and go on vacation among the cobbles. A recurring theme of the weekend was removing all trace of human presence from the woods, and even the smokers tucked their cigarette butts between the laces and the tongues of their boots.

This process took the most time, but it was the same thing for the whole half mile. Now and then the sky threatened to rain, maybe even threw down some weak mist, but the sun was shining and the air was pleasantly cool to offset our work. As we freed each post we'd toss it in a pile. The posts came out easily, as the valley was filled with round rocks that had washed down the mountain and piled so deeply that at one point the stream just disappeared into them, joining the river somewhere underground. The only things that could grow in between them seemed to be scraggly pines and oaks and a plant Doobie called lamb's ear, aka "boy scout toilet paper". It burst out between the rocks here and there, splaying velvet leaves in a splash pattern and shooting a flower four feet into the air.

Once all the wire was laying on the ground, it was a simple pain in the ass to roll it up and pile it alongside the road for the forest service to pick up with a truck. By the time four thirty rolled around, we were good and ready to stop. We headed back towards campus, eager to avoid missing dinnertime.

On our way back, for the first time, the mountain came out. All of the sudden we crested a ridge and there it was, dominating the sky. The sun was just about to clock out for the day and everything was orange, except for a giant grey and white cone that seemed to rule the valley with the threat of coming over and crushing it. Immediately I knew why everyone spoke of the mountain being out like the moon.

I grew up in the glacier-smoothed flatlands of Ohio, and I've seen mountains I guess but not peaks. My mind was incapable of comprehending anything close to its scale. It looked to me like a ten-story model, just on the other side of those trees over there. Mount Adams was the biggest thing I'd ever seen in my life.

By the time we made it home, the sun was down, and I didn't see the mountain again.

At dinnertime, I knew how those kids could eat all that healthy food. Vegan slop never tasted so good! I wolfed it down like a vegetarian with a filet mignon and nobody looking. I have no idea how my brother and his coworkers did it every day. The physical jobs I've had were all hell, where each minute until quitting time seemed like a twenty-year bit on the chain gang. I guess the surroundings and the cause go a long way.

After dinner we headed out to the fire circle and spend the evening talking about everything, the most common topic round the campfire. One of the attendees was Lucy the german shepherd, who was being driven crazy by the constant howling. Her mom said that she'll take on a coyote if there's just one of them, she loves to chase 'em down, but more than one and she knows she's outmatched. They're smaller than her but faster and meaner.

The next morning I went to the circle-up to say goodbye to everyone before they went out into the field. I told them they had a very nice office. Then I gave my brother and sister a hug and told them they had a very cool life, though it wasn't for me. There were tears in my eyes when I said it- I guess I was just so happy for them. Bagel and I got into Doobie's truck and headed down the mountain, then down the river into Portland. She dropped me off at the train station and headed for the airport- she was heading down to San Freakcisco to visit a friend she'd made in Ecuador when she was living down there. I waited for an hour or so- during which I managed to throw out my ticket with some trash and then dig it out of the trashcan after a frantic search through my pockets- and then stepped aboard the Amtrak Cascades, bound for Seattle and my meeting with Humbaba.