Driving home from work on Wednesday night, I had a hundred excuses not to pull over and take a hike.
I forgot a sports bra. It was sprinkling. I left the bear spray at home. I stayed up late last night working on an article about bears. I’m afraid of bears. It’s tick season.
Well that’s at least five and I can no longer think of any additional reasons, because I ended up hiking and didn’t see any bears and, after some ado, am glad I went.
When I got to the trailhead I changed clothes because they say if you get dressed to do something you’re more likely to go. But then I got scared of the bears and slumped back into the driver’s seat.
Then a mountain biker with a full-face mask pulled into the parking lot and rode up to say hi. We high-fived, and I was like “cool, who are you?”
It was Wieland, I realized, when he took off his helmet. Maggie rolled up too, and they said I had to go for a walk.
“You probably spent all day at a desk,” Wieland said.
“The last three, actually,” I said.
I showed him the sign about the bears at Rat Lake and we talked about how neither of us had ever seen any bears in the canyon and about how he had just sold his dirt bike.
So I walked up to the K9 Cliffs and almost didn’t make it. I actually sat down in the middle of the River Trail for a while, but something slowly, eventually dragged my ass up the talus field. Upon arriving at the scruffy-looking cliffs it didn’t really seem worth it, so I sat back down and drank a beer and flicked ticks off of my legs.
It sprinkled as I walked downhill, and when I got back to the River Trail I saw a pair of whitetail deer. Then I started taking some photos of flowers and realized that’s what I should’ve been doing all along.
Now it’s snowing. Perfect.