March 8th, 2005
|11:29 am - Sunday's Hike|
Squish-Squish went the Mud. Crunch-Crunch went the ice. WhoooooWhooooo went the wind in the trees.
And through it all, we tromped, sloshed, slid, stomped, and laughed, ending up dirty, tired, and remarkably happy.
After spending Saturday night with a friend making numerous religious arguments over a bottle of whisky, I got up early and drove down to campus to pick up singingwren at the appointed hour. She hopped into the car, and we headed down to Tar Hollow State Park in a sort of roundabout way (somehow, I managed to miss the 270 exit from I-71).
We arrived in good time, though, and after a grueling 15-minute drive up ice-bound curvy roads, we managed to summit at the fire tower.
And then we left the car and ran away into the woods for four and a half hours and ten miles of trails.
For a while, we chatted as we headed downhill, but the first upward ascent shut both our mouths rather efficiently. We rambled along, occasionally commenting on good spots to pick blackberries or long gone adventures or the amazing beauty of the day.
Realities of the trail, of course, set in: I was dressed too warmly; the boots singingwren was wearing were causing too much friction; both of us were painfully out of shape. But with those realities came a more plesant one: we were alive and this is what we were born to do.
Her blisters worried me some, but she smiled through the pain and joked about it. We examined them briefly about midway, and I lamented my lack of dirty-foot fetish, as this would have provided an amazing oportunity to one so pursuaded.
We sat for a time atop the nameless hill on which I have communicated so often with the Gods. I hope they spoke to her as well, for they never fail to speak to me when I am there.
We arrived back at the fire tower for lunch and evaluated the 11 mile southern loop. No time, we decided. But next time, there would be.
Back to Columbus we drove, chatting and laughing and discussing dating failures and improperly placed hands. . . which nearly caught me a speeding ticket.
Current Mood: amused
Current Music: "Fruitcakes", -JB
You forgot: SCREECH SCREECH went the poorly-constructed fire-tower, and HUR HUR?! went the mightily confused passerbys. :D
That was a great time, and I'm glad we managed it despite our various issues. It's all downhill from here... er... uphill. Sort of. And right through the creek.
The ridge was by far the most amazing part, especially considering how long we had to flounder on the hill to get up there. There was a sudden moment of "Whoah!" when I had to catch my breath for more reasons than just being out of shape. The wind was amazing, and the layout of it all made me think about my Nat Res professor's talk of ley lines, but then more rational and verbal thoughts dissappeared in favor of sheer experience. There are good places in the world, and that was one of them. Being there was like praying and having your prayer answered as you go all in one. :)
Now, as for foot fetishes, that really is a dirty shame, no pun intended. I mean, what's not to like about mud-covered feet with leaves and wet socks sticking to them? And what would you have done if we were driving and I talked about inappropriately placed FEET, eh? "My date kept putting his feet really low on my hips, it was very possessive. I was like, I can't believe you're putting your feet on-- AHHHH THAT'S NOT A LANE!!!"
Now I'm trying to figure out how that whole foot-hip thing works out. . . Ah, the mental images. . .