I’m on deadline, so this is going to be short.
I remembered today the story that I was going to include in yesterday’s post. It was about a hike I took last fall with the same friend on a different segment of the same trail. Early in the hike, as we walked along a narrow section of the trail over wet rock, I slipped and fell. Hard. On my butt. My camera had been slung across my back, and when I opened the case, I saw that the filter on the lens had shattered. I was glad that I had the filter on, since it’s a lot easier to replace a filter than a lens, but it was still sobering to see the shattered glass.
A little while later, my buddy K. noticed that I’d somehow gotten covered in burrs. So we spent a little while picking burrs off my jacket, feeling like monkeys grooming bugs off each other.
At the end of the hike, we just had to cross the river and we’d be right near the trailhead. I reached the last boulder and started to scramble up – and slipped. And fell knee-deep in the river.
Good thing we were close to the car, where there was a dry pair of fleece pants for me to change into.
And good thing I’m not such a hopeless klutz every time I venture outdoors.