My much-anticipated weekend of slack turned out great, and I enjoyed all the hits: good beer, good food cookin’, a commanding Spurs victory, sexy time, and other indoor goofball slacker activities due to freezing rain. As Ren Höek would say, “This is the life.” Well, at least until Monday.
For the second Monday in a row, I woke up to heavy fog, melting snow (er, ice), dankness, and an all-day darkness that required the lights on in the house all day. I was motivated to do nothing but return to the former Bed of Torment to fart and sleep the day away. I did not.
Instead, I once again found myself driving in a thick fog to the trails and the hopes of starting off the week with a 5-mile lumber with my camera.
My hopes were nearly dashed when I hit the dirt service road in the park and was driving on a SOLID sheet of thick ice. A slight tap of the brake sent Escape II (Electric Boogaloo) into various fishtails and slides before I busted out my Colt Seavers’ evasive driving skills and got shit under control. I was doing shit with the steering wheel that I never knew I could do! I guess watching shitty 80s TV series instead of doing homework as a kid really paid off in keeping EIIEB out of a ditch.
Two miles in on Covered Bridge Trail
I parked as close as I could to the trail and gingerly walked to the limestone path leading to the trails to see what they had in store. The path was pretty icy, but I knew I made it into the woods and dirt, and things should improve.
As an extra precaution, I busted out the trekking poles for the first time since my 10-mile lumber a few months ago for some added stability and confidence.
Once over the icy bridge and into the woods, things improved greatly, but taking the poles was a good move because the occasional rock, root, or flat patch of hard-pack dirt was indeed icy despite only appearing wet.
Once I got used to the occassional ice patch, I was having a great time in the near-silence of the wet woods. The heavy fog was beautiful in its own way, and around mile 4, it started to drizzle rain. I was loving it and sort of disappointed that it had only just started.
I love the sun and warmth of the spring and summer, but there is something about a cold drizzle in the forest that really gives my brain a mental rub and a tug.
Despite seeing an unknown Soobie in the lot when I arrived (and somehow not crashing into it), I was alone in the woods and expected to see no one, especially the older couple that hikes nearly every day.
Until I did! Soon after the rain changed from mist to “heavy drizzle,” I saw the couple coming up the trail. I’m not going to lie; my first reaction was, “OH MY GOD, THEY’RE GONNA BREAK A HIP!!!”
As they passed, Mary(?) concurred that trekking poles were a good call, and Jim(?) and I exchanged brief, icy parking lot driving tales before we parted ways and I said “Enjoy, be careful out there,” like I was on Hill Street fucking Blues or something.
When I got back to the trailhead, I was the only car in the lot. What the hell? I just talked to those folks; where is their car??
For a second or two, I thought I completely imagined the whole conversation and thought maybe I had finally killed too many brain cells.
I was happy to have got 5+ miles in despite the weather and I packed up, stretched a bit, and started out for home, anxious for some hot coffee and breakfast. As I exited the main lot, I looked down the service road and saw Jim’s(?) car in the lot further down. He wasn’t kidding when he said he couldn’t stop! He must have just kept on going!!
Once home, it was time for food, the start of my real day, and anxiously waiting for B to come home for Christmas break after a super intense and incredibly creative semester at school.
It was great to have B back in the house again, and the three of us spent the evening chatting, making food, watching some of B’s final projects, and then some old Curb episodes despite Wifey’s feint protests.
Well, would you look on Monday, actually stepping up and not being shitty.
Later.