I took a double helping of oatmeal in the morning since I didn't use any the previous day, thanks to Piper's. But besides that, I also knew the terrain would be more difficult, so more food was certainly welcome. It would be a steady uphill trot to Little Boardman Mountain, with two relatively short downhill sections before another big climb up White Cap Mountain. Our lunch destination was the East Branch lean-to. This was the lean-to that a lady back at the Abol Bridge Campground had complained about; specifically, the bugs.

    Eventually, as always, we arrived at our lunch destination, eager to eat and rest up. Who else was waiting there for us but Tunaberry? He tended to walk many miles at once, but he also took incredibly long breaks, so we were able to catch up with him from time to time. After a while, Colonel and Runner sauntered in. Collin and Otis weren't far behind. With them, they brought an interesting tale. When crossing the peak of Little Boardman, they ran across one of the guys from last night's lean-to. He was a skinny young kid with curly red hair, just out of high school, who was hiking the trail alone. This guy had fallen on the way up the mountain, and reaching out to break his fall, he broke his hand. Well, he didn't know it was broken, but it was pretty messed up. Otis told us it was definitely broken upon inspection, but he didn't want to tell the kid and make him even more depressed. They helped bandage his hand up a bit, then sent him back down the mountain to Kokadjo B Pond Road - the closest logging road, a little over a mile back the other way.

    The lunch break (mmm...veinna sausages) ended up clocking in at a gaudy 3 hours. There were many conversation topics that flowed through. One such topic concerned the presence of the dragonflies in the vicinity, some of whom were seemingly confused and were bouncing off the mud in the vicinity instead of the water. "Maybe they're like...dirt dragonflies." "Don't ever say anything that stupid again." Another involved pondering what terrifying loggers that poor redheaded kid might encounter on his way back to civilization. We were certainly going to hell for our suggestions of a gay logger picking him up. But this was assuredly not the low point, as someone was foolhardy enough to ask Tunaberry about his spandex setup. You see, Tuna was sporting some crotchless spandex which, and as disturbing as it sounds, must've been incredibly comfortable. With regular underwear outside the spandex, he was likely immune to the normal rubbing and abrasions that result from 10+ hours of walking per day. In preparation for his lengthy hike, he'd found some place that would do custom spandex jobs. "I told the guy I needed it for hiking...I think he thought I was some perverted camp counselor who was going to use the spandex for my filthy games with the children." But really, how can you go wrong when the website for said company has a man in a cat suit on their front page?

    The bug situation was not nearly as bad as the lady had warned us about. She'd mentioned having to sit in the privy the entire night to get away from the bugs, and we each visited this legendary privy when the need arose. Inside on the walls was scribbled a very odd warning: "we will cause the apocalypse - we eat money and shit out the devil". Back at the lean-to, we all spent a few minutes trying to figure out what would motivate someone to write something so...strange, before deciding that it was utter garbage and shouldn't be thought about for another moment.

    When we finally rolled out, Runner & Colonel took not one, but two wrong turns out of the area. I had to correct them, lest they wander off and get lost, or just walk the other way for a while before turning around. The hike to the Logan Brook lean-to was a not-so-steady uphill climb through much moose dung. Significantly flat sections were countered by rapid rises - always covered in moose dung, of course. The others pulled ahead of us, so Joe and I were the last of the East Branch crew to arrive at Logan Brook. It was mac & cheese night for us, and while others passed around the pipe of jone, I partook in the entertaining conversation that made evenings enjoyable. 1 | 2 Much like the previous lean-to, this one wasn't quite so bad, bug-wise, and that was good for more than one reason. Pretty much every hiker we'd encountered coming the other way said that the insect population was the worst past White Cap. South of it, one wouldn't be beleaguered by insects. Things were looking better and better all the time.

Otis: I can picture the guy picking him up right now. "I'm a logger. Loggin's what I do."

Colonel: "You say you broke your hand, eh? Can you use the other one?"