April 26, 2009
Cold, Dreary, and Absolutely Lovely
Swine flu.
On a brighter note, a red onion on our counter is growing a shoot.
And, it rained yesterday. Lightly.
Buds are appearing, green and tight. And softening up and opening.
Grass is green and growing.
And, of course, the puppy's still cute.
Posted by beth at 8:10 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
March 26, 2009
The Story of Sonora
One fine New Years eve in Chandler, Arizona, a suburb of Tempe which is apparently a suburb of Pheonix, a couple left a New Years Eve party not long after midnight to find a surprise under their car. The man, while opening his door, felt something against his leg, and looked down to see a small black puppy. No collar, no owner in sight. The couple took the puppy home with them for the night and began making calls the following morning.
The couple was India and Gabe, friends of Brad and Steph, friends of my beau's. Judah and I had driven down with some other Boulder friends to celebrate the holiday in desert warmth--mmmm, desert warmth. I wore a skirt and a t-shirt and sandals all weekend. Our main goal was to relax and to enjoy ourselves, mostly out in the backyard by Brad and Steph's pool, wearing sunglasses and drinking cheap beer. India called Steph New Year's morning to tell her of their find. And also that India's mom had already done some sleuthing. Driving through the neighborhood that morning, she stopped a couple guys she spotted walking along the street. "Do you guys know of anyone who's missing a puppy?" she asked. "Yeah," the guys said, reportedly casually. "We're missing a puppy." They gave India's mother their address. "Just have her drop it by any time today," they said. So, concluded India, they must not be very into their puppy. I mean, what about "omigodyoufoundourpuppywhereisshesowecanpickherup???"
We told India to definitely bring the puppy over before returning it.
The puppy was very mellow--sweet, docile, unphased by just about everything. There were three other dogs around, a pool, two toddlers, and about ten adults, but whatever. Puppy seemed to just be curious and comfortable.
There was talk of trying to keep the puppy. I mean, her owners didn't seem very concerned about her--beside being found outside unattended and the two men having said that India could just drop her off anytime, she seemed kind of dirty. Her stomach was bulging, although probably India and Gabe had just overfed her that morning (GA, another friend who'd driven down, said the lambs on his family's sheep ranch in western Colorado look like that after eating all the time). Despite the possible neglect, though, she just.... well, she just had an amazing disposition. She seemed up for anything.
Sitting outside on the back porch watching most everyone else do yoga, with the puppy weaving through legs and exploring the bushes alongside the pool, I saw the moment. Judah too was sitting outside watching the more ambitious of our group do yoga, and the puppy weaving through legs and exploring bushes... and something in his face changed, indifference was displaced quite suddenly by inquiry, and he said--I'm almost sure of it--"That could be my dog."
And then it was over. "What do you think her name should be, if she's my dog?" he asked, and "Can I have this dog?" As in, do you think I have the time and patience to raise her? "Yes," I told him. If you want to make it work, you can. But it almost didn't matter anymore. I don't think he would have heard a No. Judah was gone. He was smitten. His dog River had died at 15 years of age in October, and here was this lovely little perfect puppy just walking right into his life. We decided to ask the owners. There was a group effort--How should we do it? What should we say? Say you'll give 40 bucks to keep the puppy. Does anybody have any cash? Who has 40 bucks? GA gave us 50, and I put it in my pocket. Judah carried the puppy in his arms. "Are you going to be crushed if they say no?" I asked. Judah paused. "Maybe." As in, yes.
Judah, puppy, India, Ingrid, Steph and I walked to the address given to India's mom, where there was a man standing just outside the front door in a sleeveless shirt, sunglasses on, smoking. Judah approached him holding the puppy. "Is someone here missing a dog?" Judah asked and the man smiled and said, nonchalantly, Yeah, that's our dog! She got out here last night. "How attached are you to this puppy?" Judah asked. "Because I really like this dog." The man smiled wider, metal on a tooth glinting in the sun. "You got a lotta love for that dog, eh man?" "Yep," said Judah, "I got a lotta love for this dog." "Oh, you're serious!" His eyebrows went up behind his glasses. A woman appeared at his side and coo-ed. Oooh, the puppy. "Go get Chico," the man told the woman. And reluctantly, she did. Another man came out from the house, nodded, grunted something, disappeared back into the house. And that was about that. The man offered to let us meet the father, half Rottweiler and half pitt bull--"a real mean dog"--and, as inviting as that sounded, we opted out. Mostly, we just wanted out of there before they changed their minds about giving up the puppy.
So we walked hurriedly back to Brad and Steph's. And announced victory to the others. And suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, had a new baby puppy on our hands.
The first thing we did was give her a bath.
The next thing, more or less, was to take her on what was presumably her first hike, for which we rigged up a sling--
which she proceeded to not use.
We carried her probably a third of the way, max. She is a *trooper*. I couldn't believe the stuff she was scrambling over, and if she wasn't sure how to get up or down something, we could call her over (we'd already decided on her name) and point, and she'd give it a go. And make it.
And at the top, she was a bit tired,
but she posed like a champ.
[For more shots, see my Flickr account--you should be able to find it by searching on my name.]
The next day, it was back to Colorado for us. Baby Sonora puppy, continuing her trend of being ridiculously good, slept the whole way. All *15* hours of it.
Since then, Sonora's had a pretty hard life. Settling into Judah's place was a pretty tough adjustment.
And then, there was the hut trip we forced her on...
and the continued hikes.
I know, it's a rough life. Should've left her in Arizona, eh?
Posted by beth at 11:51 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)
Okay, Fine
Right. It's been forever since I've posted anything on this. Like, forEVER. And yes, I'm still alive. I've just been.... distracted.
Here's my update: More work, a boy, and a dog. Well, the boy's dog, but still.
Work: I'm still at UNAVCO part time, but have some specific tasks, and more hours, which is nice. No glamorous field work, but I've been pretty darn content, mostly, to be in town. Actually, I am TOTALLY grooving on being able to plan things out in advance (like, weeks and even months away), and being more domestic. Strange, but very true. I just yesterday bought a sewing machine.
We're in what is supposedly maybe the biggest snowstorm of the year here, which I guess doesn't say a whole lot since it's been a pretty dry winter. Still, we're up to a little over 14 inches so far.
[Tea party, anyone?]
Posted by beth at 11:22 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack (0)
November 4, 2008
Election Day
Can you believe it's actually election day already? Can you believe it's taken so long?
If you haven't voted, drop what you're doing and go to the polls!
If you have voted, thank you!
I finally turned in my mail-in this morning on the way to work.... via a drive-through ballot drop-off outside the County Clerk's Office... I really hope it wasn't a scam. "This one for the garbage can and this one.... okay, we can keep this one. Garbage, garbage, garbage, garbage..."
Posted by beth at 6:10 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
October 20, 2008
Finally, a Fall Hike
It occurred to me about a week ago that I haven't been hiking yet this fall. And, I realized, I hardly hiked this summer. What was I up to, anyway? I don't remember *not* feeling busy... I must have just been busy with other things. Like Frisbee.
Yesterday, Sunday, I headed up to the near mountains with my friends Jeff, Jane, Bjorn, and Jocelyn.
[Jane on a rock in Lost Lake.]
Most the colored leaves have fallen, but the trees and everything else are, of course, still beautiful, and it was a near-perfect day besides.
[Lost Lake. Not sure how it got its name, given that it's now pretty darn accessible...]
[Jocelyn and Bjorn eat pizza for lunch (I had major food envy) and try to work out the riddle that Jeff and Jocelyn became thereafter obsessed with.]
We took Bjorn and Jocelyn's secret way down, making the short hike into a bit of a loop.
[Jane ties her shoes by some cool mountain stream.]
All in all, a great afternoon.
Although I must admit I was happy to get home to some cleaning. Very, very strange, but I'm on a much-needed cleaning and organizational kick. In fact..... I bought my very first ever vacuum cleaner on Saturday. I can't even tell you how excited I am about this. I think I always thought of a vacuum as something very permanent, for people who own houses and, like, take pride in their carpets and stuff. Somehow, sweeping and the occasional borrow seemed sufficient. No, it seemed like it *should* be sufficient--but no, it never was, and it was starting to drive me crazy. So I broke down, set a price limit, and set out to buy myself a vacuum. The perfect one. I was amazed to see how far vacuums have come. No, I didn't get one of the big fancy ones. I got a small, 7-lb Dirt Devil, which can easily be broken down and packed up into a small space. Perfect for the girl who never knows when she who-knows, something-might-come-up want to move.
[Houseplant I got from my neighbor. I think the fly found its own way in. I also think it died on the leaf, since it was there in the same place a day later....]
Posted by beth at 8:51 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
September 19, 2008
REGISTER TO VOTE!
It's been a while since I've posted anything on this. Like, a long while. And I'm going to try to catch up on some recent events, but the following message is going to have to stay at the top for at least the next couple weeks:
LAST DAY TO REGISTER TO VOTE IS OCTOBER 6.
Please, please, if you are 18 or older, and haven't already, register to vote. I won't espouse my political views here, because I know a variety of people read this and I don't want to turn anyone away, but at the very least, whatever your political view, please register to vote if you haven't already. And then, vote.
I've requested a mail-in ballot, and I recommend everyone else do the same. It's very easy, and it will give us the opportunity to really understand all the issues on the ballot, look them up and ponder them if we need to, if we're not already familiar with all of them, and we avoid lines at the polls besides. Even the smaller things can be important, and a mail-in ballot allows the time to understand and evaluate them.
For instance... Okay, I wont' say it. But just vote. Please do. Start by registering if you still need to. And if anyone wants any political advice, well, of course, I'm here for you :).
Posted by beth at 8:51 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)
September 4, 2008
Another Trip to California
Not that I'm complaining. I agreed to go out to help the Northern California crew with some installs and whatever else. It sounded fine at the time, but I was resistant to leaving Boulder when it came down to it. I just didn't really want to go. And then I got there, and, of course, things were fine. Sometimes fun, even. In fact, I think this may well have been the most relaxed work trip I've ever been on. We were often to the hotels by 7 PM, and some days—at least two—we actually got in significantly earlier. Like, late afternoon earlier. Once, early afternoon. It was pretty amazing. And, we got the work done. The first week, I drove around with Doerte, one of the NCal employees, installing GPS equipment on the strainmeter well-heads. Um... yeah. I'd like to have a word or two with whoever designed the mounts for the GPS. 50 lbs maybe? And too tall to fit straight into our enclosure, so there was a lot of maneuvering involved. Suffice to say I pulled a muscle in my back the first day and tweaked my wrist by the end of the week.
[Plus, I got the flesh above my knee caught between the mount and the well-head, through my Carharts. Probably hard to see, and I unfortunately didn't get a picture a couple days later when it was *really* looking nice, but there's a 4-inch-long red pinch-line on my leg with a nice bruise developing around it.]
[Field flower. With dirty finger for scale.]
But, we got to stay a night in the Parkfield Inn. And that was our there-by-early-afternoon day. Parkfield is a tiny town with a big seismic history. As in, lots of earthquakes. “Be Here When it Happens” is the slogan of both the Inn and the Cafe. Unfortunately, the cafe was closed, which we knew would be the case. Fortunately, though, we each had a lovely picnic on the wooden porch of the inn. The whole thing is wood, an old stable maybe—signs reading livery (is that right?), tack room above the doorways to the outside—and the rooms are chalk full of character. Or characters, rather. Besides this bear, I had a boar's head in mine as well. And then, there's me.
I took a shower after getting in, and then decided to go on a little photo shoot. No shortage of material. I highly recommend the Parkfield Inn. For, you know, the next time you're in Parkfield.
[The Parkfield Inn.]
After my photo shoot, I tested out the bed. And when I woke up, I decided to go for a walk. Get some exercise, check the place out. I was joined by a big yellow dog.
On the way back, the big yellow dog disappeared. I was actually worried for a minute. Then, I found him.
Having the time of his life in a cattle trough. He looked like he was living it up in a hot tub, except instead of being relaxed he was ecstatic and panting and appeared to be rubbing up against some contraption in the tub besides. Ah, the life of a dog.
Back at the inn, I had my dinner on the porch and relaxed. Except for some shaking, crunching sound breaking the night every once in a while. Doerte had gone to explore. There was some sort of something across the way that was lit up and looked fancy. I walked over after dinner. There was a dirt ramp leading down to this thing, with bright white lights shining into it. Underneath a large platform (probably the size of my living room, which is about average for apartments) looked all about science—big plugs and cables and wires and machinery. Up top, however, there were long, flexible poles with white somethings on the top, like large synthetic cattails, swaying whenever the machinery kicked in and made the platform shake. Science, or sculpture? Strange.
Turned out it was, indeed, earthquake art. Doerte found it online. Every time it registered an earthquake in California or Nevada, it would shake. Shake, rattle, maybe roll. Interesting concept, but I wondered what the residents thought about it all. Light and noise all night. But, it's only a temporary installation, so I guess it's not too bad.
Doerte and I finished all our installations on time and made it back to the office Friday afternoon. I was informed once I got to California that I would have the weekend off. What? I came all this way for this? I thought I'd be working, making some money. It was Labor Day weekend besides, a three-day--I could have gotten a ticket to fly up to Seattle for Bumbershoot, one of my favorite music festivals. But it was too late; fares had gone up. I was disgruntled for all of about five minutes. Then the joyful reality set in; UNAVCO would still pay per diem and lodging, which meant I had a free little vacation. I also remembered how I have friends in San Francisco. Lots of friends, actually. Apologies to anyone in the Bay area that I didn't see; I decided to keep it simple and just stay with my friends Kipp, Patrick, and Jean Claude. And it was blissful.
Posted by beth at 9:20 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)
August 1, 2008
Demolition Derby
The Boulder County Fair. I'd never been. But when I noticed that there was a Friday night demolition derby, I couldn't resist. Neither could about 12 other folks from around the office, Frisbee, and whatever.
[Opening remarks. Apparently one of these guys was commenting (commentating?) throughout the whole event, but up in our nosebleed seats (this was in Longmont, not Boulder, so the turnout was pretty good) we couldn't understand a word.]
[In through the gates.]
[Smash!]
[Lost something?]
[Boot envy.]
[Game over.]
[The shirts these guys were flinging into the stands said "I got *smashed* at the demolition derby." We wanted one.]
[Getting a scolding after getting the black flag.]
[More crunching metal as the night wears on.]
[Kids race to roll tires across the arena as the cars take a break. Or, get fixed, as it were.]
Posted by beth at 12:30 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
July 8, 2008
Road Trip
When I was on my way out to California in the company's Ford F350, my friend Brian, who was to be the recipient of the truck, asked if I wanted to buy his Volvo. He was about to move up to the Alaska office, and had a few things to unload. Well, Brian, funny you should ask. My car died in early January, just before I left for Ethiopia, and I've been borrowing my friend Nancy's car until her daughter turns 16 next month. So come next month, yes, I need a car. So. The price was right, and it sounded like a bit of an adventure. Why not.
On Tuesday, I flew out to Oakland. Andre, another UNAVCO employee, picked me up at the airport, took me to the car, put up with me while I grabbed something to eat--and then, back at the office, helped me check out the car. And proceeded to help me clean it. Andre. What a champ. We wiped it down, vacuumed it out, topped off the tires and the windshield fluid, and cleared out odds and ends Brian had left in the car. And at sometime around 7, after traffic on 80 had cleared a bit (a hay truck had caught on fire, which spread to the adjoining hillside, and the road was closed for a bit), I hit the road.
I had options. My friend Hilary, who moved away from Boulder last fall, was just off I-80 in Nevada City. Erica's brother, Nathan, lives in Reno. But I'd left late. And I didn't have Hilary's new number besides. I called Nathan to introduce myself (Erica had called him just the day before with the idea), and to say thanks but no thanks. I'd be arriving too late. He said to come anyway. Said I'd better. Said he'd be offended if I didn't. What could I do? Besides, turns out it was his birthday. I rolled in just in time to spend the last 15 minutes with him. Thanks, Nathan, for being so cool.
On Wednesday, I hit 50. I love 50.
I had a little bit of time built in for exploring. There were some dunes I'd remembered passing at night on my way out a few weeks ago, and when I saw them in the morning driving east I decided to check them out.
It was a recreation area, and apparently I wasn't the only one attracted to it. I don't even know what these things are, and once I spotted them I wasn't so inclined to get closer to find out.
I first turned off to explore an old Pony Express post, being taken over by the sand, and a short self-guided nature trail.
There were lizards. And a bunny. Okay, a hare. I didn't get a picture of the hare. It was too fast.
After my little walk, I headed over to the dunes. You can leave the dirt/gravel road and drive right up to them, but I opted out. I love the Volvo. The Volvo might not love soft sand. I parked and walked instead.
I'd seen someone on the dunes from my car cruising down the sandy slope. They're sledding, I thought. Sweet. But when I got out, I realized I was wrong. Vrooooooom vroom vroom vroooooooooooooooom. Right. *"Recreation area."*
I walked towards the other part of the dunes, a closer part, where there was a truck parked with what looked like a woman with a camera standing behind it and a little boy running across the dunes nearby.
As I approached, the boy ran back to the truck, they both hopped in, and the engine started. And revved. And revved. She was spinning in the sand. So I headed over, and offered a push. It doesn't seem like all that long ago that we were stuck in the sand in Ethiopia. Multiple times.
But I just wasn't strong enough to do it alone. I told the woman I'd go get some help and come back. There was a couple who, like me, looked like they'd just stopped to check the dunes out a bit. I got to them first, and asked if they had a few minutes. The started heading over, and I continued on. I had a loftier goal: The off-roaders. I figured they were probably strong, had some mechanical skills, and would be willing to show off a bit by helping someone less savvy get out of the sand. Especially a woman. So I knocked on the door of their RV. But no answer. There was a guy cruising around nearby in a dune buggy, but he didn't seem to see me. All the others (how many were there?) were out of sight, on the other side of the dunes. As I began to walk away, however, two of them sped up on their toys. One bike, one quad. Score.
Yep. Young, male, willing.
They agreed to help out, hopped on their quad and headed out, stopping to talk to their buddy on the dune buggy who skidded out to a stop and sent a cloud of grit drifting over me. Nice. But then he pulled a slow turn around and to the side of me, and stopped.
"Want a ride back over there?"
Didn't really have to think too much about that one. "Sure," I said. "I won't say no." I mean, I've never ridden in a dune buggy before.
We'd already put some rocks and wood under the back tires, and they weren't dug in very deep, and with five of us at the back of the truck it was no problem. She got out on the first try, continued on to the road and headed on her merry way.
The tourists turned back to take pictures. The boys on the quad sped off on the quad and the other cruised off in his dune buggy. I began the walk back to the car.
But then the guy on the quad, sans his buddy, made his way back over to me, and stopped just a bit away.
"Wanna go to the top?"
Pause.
"Yeah!"
What would you say? I hitched up my skirt and hopped on. "Hold onto me," he said. "I just poured water on my shirt, so it should be cool. Lock your hands together."
I held on. I locked my hands together.
I was actually a little scared. How would we make it up without falling off?
We did. But I wasn't sure that we would until halfway up. Then I could feel that the momentum would actually carry us, and that I probably would not fall off the back, and a second later somehow the quad felt like it wasn't even touching the sand, that we were just floating up towards the sky.
We slowed and turned a few feet from the top, and dismounted. The guys were prepared: Shoes. I wore Tevas. The sand was hot. Almost ridiculously hot. It must have been around noon. I climbed quickly to the crest of the dune and shook the sand from my sandals, stepped gingerly to stay on the surface.
The view out was indeed pretty impressive. Hard to get a decent picture of it in the mid-day light, but I tried anyway. Out past the dunes, a salt surface where there used to be a lake. Nevada reminds me a lot of Afar, Ethiopia. And, in both places, the Earth's crust is being pulled apart. Not a coincidence.
[My new favorite person in the world, Carter. Chico, the guy in the dune buggy, is my second favorite. Not pictured, unfortunately.]
[It's impossible to get perspective on this, unfortunately, because of the mid-day light, but it's a ways down. And pretty steep in places.]
The rest of the trip was not nearly as exciting. I did stop several more times, but I was mostly ready to get back since I'd be leaving again for the weekend.
[My "new" Volvo.]
I had a late lunch in Austin, one of the four Nevada towns on Highway 50.
[I wasn't sure at first what made it "international," seeing as they served turkey sandwiches and burgers and such. But a sign outside said it was the first permanent building established in Austin--the International Hotel. Not sure what made it international back then, either.]
Just out of Austin, I had to stop to take a shot of these desert poppies. I don't know if they're really called desert poppies, but they look like it.
A ways down the road, when I was getting good and sleepy, I pulled off to check out some petroglyphs.
And wound up in Ely in good time for dinner.
This time, the Italian restaurant was open. (See June 16, 2008.) And it was great. The brothers were there, but looking busy, and I'd had enough excitement for the day, so instead of approaching them I just wrote a note of congratulations and headed on my way.
I didn't study a map after that one--I knew the next town was probably Scipio, Utah, and that seemed like a good enough place to end up, so I went for it. And it took forever. Dark, flat, long drive.
I christened my Volvo by putting down the seats in the back and sleeping in it behind a Chevron station.
Thursday, I was pretty set on just getting home. But I did have to stop to wake up a bit and stretch at a beautiful and familiar rest stop overlooking just another amazing Utah landscape--pretty sure I spent a day there babysitting a GPS instrument years ago.
[I did a little stretching/yoga on this rock. It didn't suck.]
[This was my view.]
And, I had to make my usual pilgrimage to the Devil's Canyon overlook to pay homage. Erica and I got lost down in there somewhere over Easter weekend a few years back.
I've been wanting to spend some more time in western Colorado, and a sign along the road reading “Trail Through Time” had caught my eye every time I'd driven through there. This time, I decided to take a look.
I won't say it was the most fantastic experience of my life, but it was indeed a nice self-guided tour and a nice walk. Plus, there were real dinosaur bones.
[Something died here. A long time ago.]
I had to visit a rest stop for a break somewhere not too far down the road to take a long nap under a tree. It didn't look like I was going to make it back to Boulder in time to play Frisbee that evening. But, I'd arrive alive, and I guess that's better. I guess.
I discovered my sun roof somewhere in the canyon on 6, between I-70 and Golden. Brian had pointed it out when I caught a glimpse of the car after dropping off his F350, but I wasn't really paying attention. I didn't really get sun roofs. I'd grown up without them and never understood the novelty of them.
On 6, though, I decided to check out the sun roof. I opened it. With a mere push of a button. Did I mention that I have electric windows? I have electric windows. Now when someone pulls up beside me on the passenger side to tell me something I don't have to lean across the seat to roll the window down. Such decadence. So I pushed on the button that had an icon with something like a sun roof on a car, and the sun roof opened. It's big. There was a big opening in the top of my car. I could see the sky, and the walls of the canyons. It was cool. And then—and I swear I wouldn't have been able to see this if not for the newly-opened sun roof—as I was exiting the canyon, I saw paragliders playing lazily in an updraft over a hill alongside the road. And that was cool too.
I arrived home before dark. As usual, happy to be here.
Posted by beth at 7:56 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)
July 6, 2008
A Little Time in the Backcountry
My good friend Erica, who used to live in Boulder, came into town that afternoon. A small group of us ate and drank and watched fireworks. The next day, we went backpacking.
It’s kind of a tradition in some sense, since Erica and Barbara and I went hiking and climbing and camping over Fourth of July weekend several years ago, and Erica and I went backpacking over the holiday a year or two after that. We didn’t do it on purpose this time—it was just time for Erica to get her butt back out here and get out in the mountains.
We went into the Hesse Wilderness, not too far out of Boulder.
[Erica and Barbara carry small Thermarests. What happened to roughing it?]
The woman who issued Barbara the permit warned of snow, so we brought snowshoes.
Turns out it’s been melting quite a bit recently, though. Erica and Barbara actually put theirs on when we came to snow (they had tennies, Kacey and I wore boots), and… yeah. Took them off about twenty feet later.
Kacey brought her pup, Burrito, who is quite a good dog. Dogs are required to be on leashes in the wilderness area, but some don’t follow the rule the whole time, despite fines and such. Most dogs were nice and were within voice control. However, two dogs approached us on the path before their owner was in sight. The dogs moved forward to check out Burrito—who didn’t like them. Burrito growled. Kacey pulled Burrito in and backed up. The dogs followed. She backed onto a side path, up the hill, the dogs still following. “Whose dogs are these?” she called, tense, and the owner came into view. He didn’t call off his dogs. “Could you call your dogs? They’re attacking our dog.” He was unphased. He called his dogs. “They’re supposed to be on leash,” said Barbara, and he said, “Why don’t you mind your own business.”
Are you kidding me?
[Erica, Barbara, Kacey.]
We made it into King Lake, where we were all alone. Even on a busy holiday weekend, people don’t wander too far from their cars. Splendid.
[The top half of my wounds.]
Except that it started raining right as we started setting up camp.
And, we realized we forgot to bring the pots.
It’s not that we didn’t think of them—it’s just that we ended up leaving Barbara’s pots at her house, knowing Kacey would bring hers, and then took Kacey’s out of her pack and left them in Barbara’s car, because we had Barbara’s. Except we didn’t. Because we’d left them at Barbara’s because Kacey was going to bring hers.
We’d been in hustle mode, setting up tents and trying to get dinner going, and then there was Barbara sitting still and quiet in the middle of it all in disbelief. Thinking hot meal. There *has* to be a way, she said.
There was, as it turned out. After a spell of relaxing and snacking in our respective tents (Erica and Barbara in Barbara’s, Kacey and me in Kacey’s), Erica and Barbara came over and we fired up the stove.
First, we tried balancing and then holding the Tasty Bites over the flames, but that didn’t work so well.
Then, Kacey brought out her cup. Perfect. It even fit some water.
Eating the meal was a bit hilarious in and of itself. Tasty Bites are ready-made Indian dishes that just need to be heated in their pouches in water, open and pour over rice and there you go. But we couldn’t make rice. And we could only heat the Tasty Bites packages one at a time, and Barbara had gotten all different flavors besides, so we ended up splitting each packet among the three of us and eating about five bites worth of meal at a time. Barbara fussed over who did or didn’t have enough in their bowl. “I think you got half a bite more than me,” I said.
I mean, it’s not like we had any shortage of cheese and salami and peanut butter.
The next morning’s weather was still marginal. We had planned to hike along the continental divide for a bit before hiking out, and decided to still do it.
The outlook was not good, though, and we heard distant rumbles of thunder, so decided not to linger on the ridge. Ate a snack and headed down.
As we headed down, we spotted lightning, and the thunder boomed closer and louder. Not so good. Rain, and then hail. We took shelter in a patch of trees.
[I like that Kacey and Barbara are smiling, but I think Burrito and Erica capture the true mood.]
I was thankful for my rain pants. It had been a debate that morning, and I won. Score.
When the storm calmed, we headed back up and over the saddle and back to our gear, reorganized and started out. The thunder started up again, too, so it’s a good thing we made a break for it when we did.
[Our side of the divide was still pretty skanky. Bummer about the water on the lens.]
When it started to hail again, we stopped for whiskey and chocolate. We were well below treeline by that point, in a good spot, but, you know, a little something to warm the bones.
Despite it all, Barbara and Kacey were already talking about the next trip as we walked through the rain. Labor day weekend, perhaps?
Posted by beth at 11:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
