August 22, 2023: Slow Down, You Move too Fast
Gotta make the morning last. Feelin’ groovy. It’s been a problem my entire life, my moving too fast. I did crawl, or so I am told, but just long enough to engage in this much ballyhooed rites of passage. I have heard said that if you don’t crawl, you’ll end up a societal misfit. I did crawl, and I did end up being a societal misfit. Imagine what I would have been like if I hit the ground running. . . Ever since I can remember, I have moved at the speed of light, in hope that I might catch up with the time/space continuum. I keep going at breakneck speed because I know that I’d never catch up with the TSC. And if I speed up, whoooosh. Today was a day in which I moved quickly, of course following Becky, who is intent on blazing paths in uncharted territory. We were very efficient in packing up, as always; then after, we headed over to the Tombstone Interpretive Center. Been there, done that, the front desk clerk interpreters verified what Beck had already figured out, that the Fold |
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Mountain hike would be a good one. I guess they looked at us both and thought, “they’re fit. They can handle this.” They were unaware that I was sucking in my gut when we conversed with them. The first interpreter whipped out a map and gave us directional access information. We were to go to the campground and take the path between campsites 8 and 9. So we followed a very trodden trail, crossed a nicely constructed bridge, and took a left at the campfire box. I was well prepared for what was to come. I had shoes in my backpack and pants in which the legs came off. I didn’t grab my walking sticks because I figured that I, a somewhat physically fit human being, would not need them. We came to a fast flowing creek and considered crossing. Becky said that once across, we’d end up doing some bushwacking – I let it be known that I didn’t want to cross the creek unless she could guarantee that the Fold Mountain trail was on the other side. She offered no guarantee but was reasonably sure that the trail was on the far side of the creek. Hmmm, I thought. We elected to return to the Tombstone Interpretive Center and talked with a more energetic interpreter. This one stepped outside, and pointing to the distance mountain, said that was where the trail went. Hmmm, I thought. So back we went, following the same route to the banks of the creek. I removed my hiking boots and put on my running shoes. Becky removed her hiking boots, and with a stick she found in hand, stepped into the stream. I followed. The water was numbing. I might have made it but was slowed down by barefoot Becky. I could handle it no longer. Cursing, I turned and galumphed back to shore. There I hung onto a tree limb and caught my breath. Becky joined me. She wisely decided that we’d do a different hike and chose the Surfbird Trail. I was happy to hear this. The Fold Mountain trail was rated “difficult” and the Surfbird “easy.” Shades of last year. I once again determined that the terrain rating system was woefully inaccurate. It was relatively steep and tussocky. I discovered that my hiking boots are too wide in the ankle. I of course didn’t tell Becky this. We hiked up to one ridge, ate lunch, then hiked up to another. Then after taking photos, we headed back downhill. It was not as arduous going down, but it was arduous enough. I was glad to have reached our final destination, the man truck. We travelled a bit down road, then camped in a turnoff. My knee hurts. My callouses are making my feet feel like they are on fire. Tomorrow will be another fun and exciting day.
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