It's Radio de'Olde!
Friday, August 09, 2013
Where’s Vicky?...
As some of you may know, I share my life with a particularly
work-addicted woman. The only reason I don’t have a problem with this, I think,
is because I am as addicted to my work as Vicky is to hers.
All the same, it does put some obvious stresses on our
marriage. And when we do find time together, oftentimes it is spent running
errands just to keep our lives moving forward.
I wish I could say I am mindful of this, but all too often I
squander the little time we have. Listen, Vicky and I recently went on a
nine-state tour around the western United States by car. We drove nearly every
single day of the more than two week trip and I realize I should have had the
foresight to avoid that. After all that driving – some days we drove 10-12
hours! – we found ourselves more anxious and exhausted than if we had been
working that whole time. I realize now that we wasted a perfectly good vacation
driving here, there, and everywhere.
And, of course, all that stress led to quite a bit of
fighting.
It was a mess.
We got back and returned to our schedules, Vicky going off
to her career and me staying here to pursue mine.
… and I miss her.
But I realize that’s just how our lives work right now.
Maybe, one day, things will work more in our favors and I’ll remember to plan a
bit more appropriately.
Until then, however, I am making do.
I’ve taken all of the photographs I used to put on my desk
at work – one that Vicky gave to me shortly after the first time she told me
that she loved me, another of our first trip to the Grand Canyon, one of us at
our wedding, and another at Sand Rock Farm in Capitola – and I have set their
frames where I can see them whenever I work. In addition, I’ve propped up a
couple loose photographs Vicky gave me of when she was younger.
Photos are just the start. One of the best things about
working here at home is that I feel constantly surrounded by Vicky, by the life
that Vicky and I have built. I am held safely within US and there is something
very soothing about that.
Mind you, if Vicky ever reads this she is bound to tell me
that I don’t make any sense or call me a dork or something. She’s not too fond
of sentimentality on the part of others, but I like to think she will
understand.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Highlights from a Mad Dash: California...
When I saw the Welcome to California sign, I actually
cheered. Why? Because of good phone reception and a time zone I could get
behind (seriously, what’s with the sun in the north – is it afraid of the
horizon?) and, well… work.
Yes, you read that right. I wanted to get back to work.
So, sue me.
But I should have realized something was wrong when we
stepped into our room in the Crescent City Quality Inn and found that the light
switch by the door turned on the bathroom light – on the OTHER SIDE OF THE
ROOM! (Their electrician must have been high…)
Then, of course, we hit crazy traffic in Frisco, trying to
get to that magical garlic of Gilroy before the shops closed.
And then, there was…
The desk clerk at the Adelaide Inn in Paso Robles
recommended Cool Hand Luke’s to us. I know it wasn’t meant as a great, bit
middle finger to our last night on the road but it might as well have been. (Which is to say nothing against the Adelaide Inn; that was very nice.)
Cool Hand Luke’s is where dining goes to die. It is the kind
of restaurant that makes you long for McDonald’s. To say it’s shitty is to
bring insult to the largest swamp of pig shit with a mountain of human
excrement possible.
It’s bad.
The servers, who we saw so little of I wondered if it was my
breath, had very few other tables to tend to but when they did I overheard them
complain about being so busy. Before we could order drinks, about fifteen
minutes after we got there, we were brought a basket of rolls and… a pot of
beans?
Yes, a pot of beans – with a single spoon. What’s the point
of that? I mean, I was there with Vicky. We could share but… really? Did they
expect this from a family of four? Or two guys who weren’t really looking to
swap spit?
So, we order our food and a half hour later are presented with
something mildly resembling playdough. I had the Bacon Macaroni and Cheese,
which was overcooked noodles in a bland cheese sauce. A few pieces of shredded cheddar
were laid on top to make it look real and then the whole mess was sprinkles
with bacon bits. Classy!
I thought I saw whip marks on my steak from where the rider
rode it to death but then I realized they were marks from when the veterinarian
patched it up. I’m not saying it was dog… it was probably cat.
When we finally reached Los Angeles, I gave a big, deep
breath, happy to be back home.
I think I’ve outgrown the road trip. As much as I love
spending time with Vicky, two people like us just should not be cooped up in a
car for two weeks. Our next vacation should be somewhere we can relax, be
served drinks, and possibly have more drinks.
For now, I’m just happy to be back home.
Highlights from a Mad Dash: Oregon...
This entire trip began as a business excursion for Vicky. I
just tagged along for the ride… for the very, very long ride.
So, we ended up in Portland, in a lovely room at the Hilton
Downtown. I didn’t really care for downtown because it was mostly businesses
and homeless – no bueno.
But I got out for a jog on my first morning there and had a
nice enough time. When I came back, Vicky was busy – she’d be working while we
were there – so I went off to find what was – nay, is – perhaps the finest
speedy sandwich establishment ever created…
Holy shit, folks. Have you been here? Go! If there’s one
nearby, go! And then, order me something. Like their Italian sandwich. Then,
mail it to me. I don’t care if it doesn’t make it! I’ll lick the envelope! My
god, I have wet dreams about their sandwiches!
… and that was pretty much Oregon.
Oh, wait. Um… I walked up to Northwest Portland to see a
publisher and just fell in love with the Northwest district. It had what I missed about Downtown - that hominess, niceness, pleasantness that made me want to just move there. I mean, it’s
awesome.
But after Portland, for all of its pleasures – did I mention
we were at the Hilton? It’s pretty nice – I just wanted to go home. I missed my
puppies, my computer, my TV – everything!
Vicky and I took a long – perhaps too long – drive down the
Oregon coast on the 101. Hey, Oregon folks, can you put some speed limit signs
up for crying out loud? When we saw that Welcome to California sign, I
practically cheered!
More on that next…
Highlights from a Mad Dash: Washington...
Vicky and I took the long way into Washington… which,
granted, was a terrible mistake and the less said about that the better.
We stayed with Vic’s friend, Jenn, in Redmond and, after all
that driving, pretty much just stayed put.
Mind you, I got a little jogging in. Jenn lives enviously
close to the Sammamish River and someone put a lovely, little trail alongsideof it for jogging (and a million other things, apparently). It’s like the Santa
Ana River Trail but… greener… nicer… better… the bastards…
Fortunately, we were able to fit in a little family time,
too. My brother, Richard, and his wife, Teri, welcomed us in their home and
their cute, little tornado, Hayden, burned enough energy to light a small town…
for a decade. That was fun.
Then, of course, we had a day to ourselves and I made the
terrible mistake of suggesting the Snoqualmie Falls. Mind you, there’s nothing
inherently wrong with the Snoqualmie Falls (except the fact that they had
closed down the trail to the bottom – way to go, guys!) but to get there we had
to drive through Fall City.
… where I was once married…
I don’t know if Vicky was being kind or evil when she
suggested we have breakfast there. I mean, I was doing everything I could to
ignore the significance of the place and Vicky was like, “Hey, this is nice!
Let’s have breakfast!”
… ugh.
Fortunately, we went to…
Best breakfast of the entire trip. No kidding. Vicky’s crab
benedict was amazing and I had a Strawberry Stuffed French Toast that, well, it’s
all I can remember. I’m still stupefied by how good it was.
Washington was pretty nice. Last time I was there, all I
could see was my ex. This time, it just had to be my dad. He was everywhere and
I missed him terribly.
And that’s it.
Of course, before we left Vicky and I had to get into a
fight that… let’s just say I should be out of the hospital soon.
And then, we went to Oregon.
Highlights from a Mad Dash: Idaho...
Idaho.
For the state with the lowest self-esteem, it ain’t that
bad.
I hadn’t been back to Idaho in a few years and as we drove
through eastern Idaho to our destination, I couldn’t help but think, “Wow. This
is utter shit.”
I mean, there I was surrounded by right-wing,
anti-wind-energy signs (seriously, kids?) and fireworks warehouses opened all
year long. I felt like I was driving into a Republican’s wet dream!
But then, we reached Cascade, Idaho, which was rivers and
mountains and deer and fresh air and blue skies and open meadows. Turns out,
that’s also a Republican’s wet dream; they can’t wait to tear it down.
The irony here is that right about that time, I was JONESING
for some pavement. Seriously, I was getting really home sick. I wanted a
Starbucks and a freeway… sigh…
Cascade was our first prolonged stop. We spent a couple of
days with Vicky’s family inside their lovely, little home. It was quite nice.
Our first morning there, I hit the road for an eight-mile
jog. Little did I realize that at about 5,000 feet up and eight-mile jog is
just about the worst thing you could do. And it was probably the cause of my
migraine the next day that kept me in bed and in the dark. Fortunately, it didn’t
stop me from enjoying the rest of that day.
We lunched in a little place called…
Gramma’s. Great name, huh? And that’s just what it’s like.
It’s a little family place that serves a pretty good burger. What more can you
ask for?
We trotted around town a bit until the 1950s-ness of it all
wore thin. I mean, really, kids selling lemonade from roadside stands and teens
hanging out at the soda shop. I felt like giving them heroin; it was just TOO
CLEAN!
Then, someone got the idea we should go see The Lone Ranger,
which was about the worst decision imaginable. The Lone Ranger is a movie with
so much wrong with it, the crappy acting ain’t that bad. It shits on the source
material, on logic, on taste, and on its viewers. It’s not a movie. It’s a
sentence. It’s punishment. It was to movies what Cool Hand Luke’s was to food…
I’ll get to that later.
The Lone Ranger may also have caused my migraine… odds are,
it did.
We soon left Idaho, on our way to Washington…
Highlights from a Mad Dash: Wyoming...
Wyoming came at the end of a very long drive through four
states.
Vicky and I pulled up to the La Quinta Inn with nothing but
contempt for a world that would make us drive all that way – and whose idea was
that, anyway? (I’m taking the fifth!)
I saw some “bikers” trucking in their motorcycles, probably
to Sturgis – the bastards. Listen, I drove a bike for seven years and did not
once truck it anywhere. Motorcycles are for riding and if you’re too old and
your back won’t take it, fucking retire and get a golf cart!
… I’m sorry. Where was I?
Oh, right. Wyoming.
Vicky and I were exhausted by hungry and decided to eat and
the nearest place… oh crap. It was an Applebee’s. But, heck, it was all we had.
We sat down at our table and found out our waitress was about as tired as we
were. We ordered sliders and a couple of salads, and barely ate that.
We barely had enough energy to get back to our hotel room
and ignore the horrible bed. (Seriously. What circus left the trampoline
behind?)
Highlights from a Mad Dash: Utah...
Utah.
Utah.
Right.
Something nice to say about Utah…
Hmmmmmmmmmm….
Dirt.
Brown.
Oh! We saw some prairie dogs – I may have this way out of
order but I had to think of something – who were quite adorable but terribly
stupid. Of the handful of sweet and cuddly live ones we saw, I also witnessed
dozens more of them squished in the road.
Not nice.
Certainly not worth a picture.
We got out of there as quickly as possible.
Highlights from a Mad Dash: Colorado...
Would I say that Colorado was my favorite state of the trip?
Yes. Yes, I would say that Colorado was my favorite state of
the trip.
I mean, damn, it was beautiful! The gorges! The peaks! (The
stores! The chores!) The sky was a kind of blue you never see in the real
world!
And then, we entered Silverton, Colorado, a little strip of
heaven just pretty as a picture, so pretty it should wear a bow. Vicky was a
bit peckish and Silverton sprang up in the middle of some tedious mountain driving
– so we stopped.
Ate at a joint called…
Two words: Pork Sundae. No shit. Pork Sundae. It’s like BBQ
heaven – which is not where pigs go when we eat them, sadly enough.
I didn’t want to leave Silverton. I wanted to move there. It’s
just so beautiful.
But we couldn’t wait. Utah was calling… on an old phone…
collect… because it hated us.
Highlights from a Mad Dash: New Mexico...
There wasn’t too much to like about New Mexico.
This isn’t to say that there’s nothing there to like. I’m
sure there are plenty of… I’m mean, something… you know… decent. Maybe.
The El Malpais National Monument is a thing of beauty. It’s
really out of this world wonderful. Vicky and I stopped there for some shots
and I knew it was the kind of place I’d like to return to and hike. Sadly,
however, the road called.
We were welcomed into Albuquerque with a sand storm, but
unlike the one in Arizona this included rain as well. It was kinda fucked up,
to tell you the truth.
I just wanted to get out of there.
So, we hit the road the next day and drove northwest to
Colorado…
Highlights from a Mad Dash: Arizona...
Arizona greeted us with sandstorms, 120 degree temperatures,
and some of its lovely scenery, which is to say it made us want to leave.
But we had just arrived. So, we kept driving to our first
stop, the home of my step-mother Blanche. Though we had the air conditioner
cranked to 11, heat bled in through the metal skin of the car until there was
just a small pocket of breathable air towards the center – what we called “comfort”.
When we saw Blanche, she said she could feel heat coming off
our bodies – so much for the air conditioning – and we ended up just spending
time in her living room, under the cool vents of her air conditioning.
But then, dinner came and we drove to a place called…
The great thing about Joe’s is that even though they were
busy – and they were busy – they were still helpful and the food was good and
the service was great. What’s not to like? On top of that, the portions were so
amazing we had to leave food at the table.
Hold on.
Look at me.
This is not a boy who leaves food lightly. Okay?
We had a great visit with Blanche. It was just so lovely to
see her after so many years apart.
Sadly, though, we were back on the road the next day,
continuing east along the 60 to Show Low and then along the 36 to El Malpais
National Monument… Fun!
Highlights from a Mad Dash: California...
So, Vicky and I decided to go on a road trip recently
because we forgot what two weeks in a car with another person will do to you
(hint: it rhymes with bomocide) and we thought driving for two weeks would be
fun.
We were wrong.
But there were some good times, some fun times, some
beautiful sights, some great food… and some horrible food. (Skip to the final
entry and Cool Hand Luke’s for further details on that.)
So, now that I’m back home and can say with some certainty
that I survived, I thought it might be fun to take the trip apart, state by
state, and give you the hightlights!
Before we began our mad dash around nine states (I’ll be
hitting California twice but counting it once), we decided to stop by a little
Mexican place in San Diego called…
We first heard of El Indio some thousand years ago or so on
Food Network and have wanted to go ever since. I’m happy to say we were not
disappointed. The food was fresh and flavorful. I especially liked the
Horchata, which is one of those things that when it’s bad it’s awful. Theirs
wasn’t. Vicky and I shared a dish and that satisfied us quite nicely. We agreed
to do more of that kind of sharing on the trip – this was the only time it
happened…
After El Indio, we hit Highway 8 and took it east into
Arizona…
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
So Dream Something takes the Pacific Crest Trail...
Mindy Dunham hiked the Pacific Crest Trail at 58! Listen to her fascinating story in this month's So Dream Something...
Friday, June 28, 2013
Taglines that never quite took off...
Taglines that never quite took off...
#25: Pork. The other white steroid-laden, hormone soaked obscenity that shouldn't get near your mouth.
#24: Beef. It's what's for dinner... until we run out and start on the cats.
#23: Michelob Ultra. Still tastes just as shitty as our regular beer - in fact, even moreso!
#22: Las Vegas. What happens in Vegas, looks much better in a movie. Otherwise, it's shit.
#21: Finger-lickin' barf!
#20: Snap. Crackle. And, yes, we know they taste like cardboard. What do you want from us?
#19: Every kiss begins with a K... and ends with the terrible suspicion that the other person has herpes.
#18: Ivory Soap. 99.44% pure... the rest is rat feces.
#17: When you care enough to send a shitty card.
#16: Never let them see you sweat... or crap your pants.
#15: Dunkin. Time to make the donuts, just as soon as I spit in the batter.
#14: Disneyland. The happiest place on earth as long as you're not a Jew.
#13: Have a coke and these dead polar bears we found floating around.
#12: Have a coke and diabetes.
#11: Have a coke and rotten teeth.
#10: Please don't squeeze the Charmin... perv.
#9: What's in your wallet? Really? How much? Holy shit. Seriously? Well, hand it over.
#8: Nothing comes between me and my Calvins... except for my crabs.
#7: Calgon, kill my husband and make it look like an accident. Oh, and I could use some cocaine.
#6: Got bovine lactation fluid?
#5: Budweiser. The King of Uriney-looking beverages.
#4: Bounty. The quicker - oh, ick. I don't want to touch that!
#3: You're in good colon with Allstate.
#2: I can't believe I ate the whole cat.
#1: Morbid Obesity. It isn't just for breakfast anymore.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
New series are coming to my YouTube channel...
Launching
on my YouTube channel on September 1st will be GETTING OUT MORE
OFTEN with Sean & Ken. I’m really excited about this. I am working with
my friend, Sean, to create a monthly series in which we get out and around
southern California to restaurants, shops, you name it. I’ll talk a bit about
the place, interview people, and we’ll have a great time. Our first episode
will take us to our local breakfast joint: Keno’s… but will we survive?
Be sure to subscribe to my YouTube channel for this and other exclusive web series coming this year!
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Taking a peak at Bedford…
Went on a pretty strenuous hike yesterday up into Silverado
Canyon in the Cleveland National Forest to Bedford Peak.
… it didn’t exactly go as planned.
Fortunately, it wasn’t my first time out there. On my first
hike, I’d only taken about a liter of water and a snack. I had hiked at 10am
with no clear goal or idea where I was going. This time, things would be
different.
I brought two liters of water and several snacks. I left at
7:15am!
That’s right.
I was ready.
Mind you, the first couple of miles is just about straight
uphill – and that sucks. But there was some shade, which helped. I made it to
the peak and was just about ready to turn around when…
… hold on…
… it wasn’t the peak.
It was A peak.
But I couldn’t find the USGS marker showing that it was THE
peak, Bedford Peak.
Fine, I thought. At that point, I could see I was hiking on
a ridge of peaks. One of them should be Bedford.
I proceeded to the next peak… no marker.
Damn!
From the peak, the trail descended to a metal gate and I
took it. When I reached the gate, I said, “It’s time to have something to eat.”
I ate a banana, which survived surprisingly well, and an apple. Damn, apples
are good on a hike!
As I was eating my apple, I saw the biggest coyote I’d ever
seen cross the trail about 20 yards or so, back the way I’d come. It was
beautiful. Most coyotes I’ve seen are mangy things that slope down into the
city in search of food. This beast strode tall and proudly, a king amongst
coyotes. It was mostly tail, sporting the biggest, bushiest tail I’d ever seen.
I said, “WOW!” like a schoolboy.
And, of course, the coyote saw me. He turned and looked at
me like I wasn’t worth the trouble.
I said, “Hello, Mister Coyote.”
He walked away, uninterested in conversation.
From the gate I leaned against, I could see a small trail
shoot off to another peak not far away. I took that… no dice.
I had one option remaining. I was now on the Main Divide
Road, which sloped up to another series of peaks. I decided to take the “road”
to the next peak – just one more and then I’d be done.
Well, it didn’t exactly go straight up. Like the other
trail, it meandered its way around. When I finally reached the peak, which by
this time was a climb of about 3,800 feet or so, I looked around… but couldn’t
find a USGS marker. (It was only when I reached home that I discovered that had
been Bedford Peak. Next time, I’ll have to look more carefully for the marker.)
By this time, the sun hovered high above me. The time was after
11am and the day was getting hotter. It was time to turn back. My legs were
growing weary and the hike down off the peak just made them worse.
But I got back to my car and I got back home and I armed
myself with lots of Advil. That was quite a hike!
Monday, June 17, 2013
Married to a Chef on So Dream Something...
Kerilyn Russo, founder of Married to a Chef (at www.marriedtoachef.com), is my guest this month on So Dream Something.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
You don’t have to be paranoid…
Now that we know the federal government is doing everything
it can to impinge upon our liberties – tracking phone calls, online
interactions, credit card numbers, how many erections we have each day, etc. –
it almost doesn’t pay to be paranoid.
I mean, it’s right there in your face!
So, I was wondering what all of this new “freedom” (he said,
Orwellian-ly) will do for us. Keep in mind that no matter how many federal
employees all this data goes to… it’s still going to people who work for the
government, just about the laziest, dumbest, shiftiest people around. You know:
‘Marukins!
I have this sinking suspicion that it won’t make much of a
difference at all. If the government decides you’re an enemy, they’ll now have
plenty of resources to “prove it”. If, on the other hand, you have enough money
and bribe enough politicians… you’ll be just fine, Mister Romney!
I mean, look at how the background on Edward Snowden (the
hero who told us all what our government is doing to us) is already being
leaked to paint the picture the government wants painted. From geek to lay-about,
it’s not about the story or the truth, it’s about being in the 4th grade – and who
wants to be seen with the nerd?
It’ll get worse, of course. Just as we’ve seen the US
government slowly crucify Bradley Manning, Snowden will also find himself under
the government’s thumb.
And this all happens because of choices we make: people we
vote for, organizations we fund. If we would stop being such sheep and remember
who has been wronging us – and, yes, I include President Obama in this list –
we can change things.
I have hope such a thing is possible.
My name is Fielding Mellish.
It must be bad if it’s illegal, right?...
Another state made something about pot legal today. I don’t
know which state. In fact, I can’t even source my claim – but it does seem as
though something is made legal each day. Either pot is legalized for medicinal
purposes or it’s legalized outright. The fact is, states are changing their
mind about this whole marijuana thing.
And the federal government continues to insist that it MUST
be illegal. Hell, it’s bad for you, isn’t it? Isn’t it a gateway drug, the end
of civilization, the cock of Satan, as we’ve always been told? They certainly
can’t make it legal if it’s bad for you, can they?
… well, I was thinking about this today as I was out jogging
and it made me think.
Consider tobacco. It’s perfectly legal for adults, isn’t it?
And what is its one redeeming value?
It’ll kill you.
That’s it. The best thing you can say about tobacco is it
will kill you.
Meanwhile, what can you say about pot? Well, it’s beneficial
medicinally. When raw, its benefits to your health are incredible. Growing it
helps the soil. It can be made into a textile, an oil, paper, concrete… the
list goes on and on.
Oh, and odds are pretty good it won’t kill you.
The only reason tobacco is legal is because the tobacco
lobby bribes our politicians so well. Marijuana does not have as powerful a
lobby. Not to mention, other industries such as oil, lumber, alcohol, pharmaceuticals,
and so on would be ruined if hemp or pot were ever legalized.
And there you have it. That’s called politics. It doesn’t
need to make sense. It just needs to make the rich richer.
Tuesday, June 04, 2013
A hike that had my GPS flummoxed…
By the time I completed my hike this morning, my GPS was
telling me I had covered 30.85 miles.
My guess is that it was wrong.
This all started at about 7:30 this morning. I piled into my
little Honda with a new set of hiking sticks, a new backpack, and even a new
hat! I was ready for an adventure!
I wasn’t exactly sure where that adventure would happen but
I knew it would start at the Maple Springs trailhead out in Silverado Canyon.
Maple Springs starts a long service trail that winds in a seemingly endless
journey through the Santa Ana Mountains. Plan A was to just hike that service
trail for five or six miles before turning around, thus ensuring plenty of exercise,
fresh air, and sore muscles.
But I didn’t go with Plan A.
Plan B presented itself almost immediately, in the form of
an unmarked trail about a quarter of a mile up the road. I didn’t know where it
went or where it went to – just the kind of adventure I was looking for!
I turned my body in the direction of the trail, fixed my new
hiking sticks firmly in hand, and set off…
The trail was your typical, two-foot wide affair, winding
around the hillsides, gaining elevation in a slow and steady manner. Fortunately,
the morning was still young and the air still cool. The hiking was easy. Of
course, after a while, the morning wasn’t so young and I had to remove my
hoodie lest I sweat like a hog… which is what I ended up doing anyway.
Soon, I ran into an older gent coming down the hillside. He
walked without sticks or packs or even a hat, completely at ease on the hill.
He was surrounded by four large dogs, all affably just trotting along. When
they saw me kneeling with my hands out and palm up, which is my way of greeting
dogs these days, they came up and shared a friendly greeting. Then, the gent
and I exchanged greetings and I asked him about the trail.
“Oh, it’s just about three miles to the top,” he said.
So, I kept going. Around and around the hillsides, I hiked,
wondering how accurate the old gent’s estimate was. After a while, I knew I’d
probably gone a couple of miles and I started looking for the top.
Instead, I saw another old guy heading down my way. This guy
was wrapped head to toe in sweats and jeans and a hoodie – this guy was not
going to get sunburned! He had the hiking sticks, pack, and hat; I didn’t feel
quite so much like a novice.
When I asked him about the top, he said, “That’s about three
and a half miles to go. You can’t miss it. There’s a bench there and
everything.”
Okay, I thought. Just gotta keep going.
But the hours kept passing and, soon, it was approaching
11am. I’d been hiking for nearly three hours. I knew going down would be much
fast than going up. Still, I figured that would be a good time to turn around.
I’d hit the peak next time.
Then, I heard my GPS. The GPS app I use, Map My Hike, gives
me audible updates on my progress and I heard it tell me how long I’d been
hiking, more than two hours, and how far I’d gone. And that’s what threw me.
Because it said, “9.5 miles.”
“What?” I muttered. That couldn’t be right. Could it?
Mind you, I’d never taken this trail before… but still…
If anything this just reinforced my decision to turn around,
which I did. I ate a snack – a bag of graham crackers, half of which I put in
my pocket – and set off.
Down the hill, I went.
Parts of the hillside were pretty steep and I paid attention
to the trail as I went. On one straightaway, I noticed a tree branch laying
across the trail. When I looked back, I noticed the branch had gotten smaller.
Hold on… I thought.
That’s no tree branch.
As I focused on the “branch”, I realized it was moving. At
over two feet long, that “branch” was actually the end of a large snake,
slithering across the trail. It wasn’t a rattler and I had no problems with it…
but I wish I’d seen it sooner. It looked really cool!
Returning to the bottom of the hill, I came upon a nice,
shady area by a dried-up creek bed. I’d seen this on the way up, of course, and
had told myself that I could eat the rest of my graham crackers there, in the
shade. So, once I got there, I pulled out my crackers, and tried to ignore the
flies buzzing around.
Then, the buzzing grew much louder. These were some very
loud flies.
But watching them fly around in front of me as their numbers
grew, I realized that these were not flies.
I looked down at my arm and saw three fat bees walking on my
arm… which was exactly the moment was panic set in. I yelped and shouted. I
grabbed my hat off my head and swatted furiously at all the flies that had
landed on me and I hauled ass down the trail.
After a bit, they were all gone. But I walked with purpose
back to my car.
And my GPS said, “You have gone 30.85 miles.”
No. Not really… it just felt like it.
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