I’ve been spending a little too much time in my head, which doesn’t make for very good blog fodder, and you’ve gotten quite a dose of my psychotic ramblings lately, so we’ll pass on that option for now. Instead, it’s much easier to tell (and show) you what I’ve done recently, if by “recently” you mean “an entire month ago.”
I woke up one Thursday morning and said to myself, “Self, I think I’d like to go hiking this weekend.” And, because I was Single! and Free! and Had No Commitments Other Than My Friday Night Plans! I could make a decision like that and just dash off for the rest of the weekend. A couple hours of internet research later, I had a destination and reservations for camping overnight.
(I know what you’re thinking. No, I didn’t choose this destination because of its name. If you must know, I rather despise whiskey. Yes, yes, including Irish whiskey. Commence the stoning.)
On Saturday I did a lovely scenic hike up to a waterfall, which provided some nice vantages for picture-taking and a good spot at which to eat lunch and read a book. Until the hordes of other people showed up, and then things felt a little too personal-space-invading for my taste, so I headed down the mountain.
Back at the campsite, I tackled the day’s main project: setting up the tent. I was about 90% done when my campsite neighbors wandered over, offering assistance. I graciously accepted their help, as we took apart everything that I’d assembled. And I can only hope that my graciousness kept on shining when we then put it all back together, exactly the same way I’d had it twenty minutes prior. But, no matter, eventually the tent was up.
Yes, I slept in a sleeping bag. On the ground. With no air mattress, for I am hard core. (Though not hard core enough to consider backcountry camping; I have no desire to haul my tent around with me all stinkin’ day.) Also, I’d say “slept” is an overstatement. More like “napped sporadically for seven hours.”
Day 2 consisted of more hiking. Specifically, the most challenging route available in the park. It was a loop trail so I knew it didn’t really matter which way I went, but two different sets of directions told me to do the trail clockwise. I’m not really one for directions, so of course I ended up doing it “backwards.” No, actually, I started out just fine and was following the directions to a T. However, I was so busy congratulating myself on accurately locating the trailhead 75 feet away from a gravel road by remembering that 8 steps = 5 yards (thank you, years of marching band drills), I missed my next turn, a mere 100 feet up the trail. About a mile in I stopped for water, looked at the map and decided, yup, I’m going backwards. Of course, this being a loop and all, I knew it didn’t matter which way I went — I’d end up back at the parking lot either way. I began to question the directions. Then I realized, the only reason the directions would tell you to go one way vs. the other is if one direction is a lot steeper than the other. So I checked the elevation profile and discovered that my stupidly-missed turn had added an extra 500 vertical feet to my day. Awesome.
You probably can’t tell from this picture, but for much of this hike the “trail” was essentially walking in a dry riverbed, one foot directly in front of the other. 50 degree inclines were not unheard of. Good times.
Putting my waterproof boots to the test.
Directional snafu aside, I made it to the top.
My mother fretted the whole time (You’re going by yourself??? But bad things happen to single women who go traipsing around alone!) and even left me a voice mail on Sunday, reminding me to call her when I was home. A reasonable request, but still — ten times more hovering than I’m accustomed to. She chilled out once I called to let her know I wasn’t dead, but still expressed that she doesn’t like it when I do these things by myself. It’s just not safe.
Good thing she doesn’t know I’m going to Europe. Alone.
View the complete set of pictures here.
Posted by Daily Tragedies |
9:44 pm |
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