I woke up early in the freezing cold. I tried to take a drink of water but it had frozen solid in the jug. I huddled in my blankets and didn't get up until much later. I had set up my tent under a mountain and it blocked the sun from hitting my tent and it was very cold in the shadows. When I finally got up the dew had frozen around my car. I went to town and had breakfast and looked on the internet for stuff to do. I discovered that Ernest Hemingway's grave was in a little cemetary north of town, so I went to check it out. I was the only car in the parking lot and the attendant came out to greet me. I told him why I was there and he pointed me in the right direction. Hemingway's grave was the Ketchum community cemetary along with all the other townfolk. He moved to Ketchum after he'd already achieved fame because he wanted to live somewhere he could be 'just one of the residents'. Castro's revolution in Cuba forced him out of his home there and he lived in Ketchum the rest of his life. His grave is just like any of the others in the cemetary, except that it's shrouded by 3 pine trees arranged in a triangle around his and his wife's grave.

I sat there and read some of his stories in the shade. Death is a funny thing. So many things happen in life; you do things, you learn things, you create things, you connect with people. Regardless of what you believe happens next, your legacy on the earth fades as those things cease to happen. The only 'you' that's left is in what you've created, and what's in other peoples' memories. Sitting on the grassy hill with my back against a pine tree alongside Hemingway's grave, it struck me how amazing it was that I felt a stronger connection to this man who had died 20 years before I was born than nearly anyone I've ever known. I guess he was a good writer.

His memorial was up the road. 

After getting my emotional fix for the day, I went on a good hike. I headed east on Sun Valley road, away from town. I drove up Trail Creek into the mountains. A stream ran in the valley between the mountains.

I decided I needed to hike down to the stream. I parked my car and started down. It was much steeper than it looked and I more or less skidded down the mountain side. I made it down and sat there by the stream. I wish I had a fishing pole along. I'm going to have to get one.

This side of the valley was much nicer than where I'd camped. I went back and packed up my tent and headed back up Trail Creek to find a better camp site. I found one right by the river. It was much warmer that night and I don't think it even froze.