2002-03-03 ~ 1:53 a.m.

When Good Hikes Go Bad

I try not to use too many profanities when I write. I think it takes away from what I have written if I happen to ever write anything intelligent: Be Warned: I get violently vulgar in this entry.

************************************************************

Hiking sucks. Hiking sucks a lot. I can't express to you the amount of suckage that comes with hiking.

Eh. Ok, I'll try.

I think an important part of hiking is the company you bring with you. Let me rephrase, I NOW realize that an important part of hiking is the company you bring with you.

I'm not saying the guy isn't a nice guy. He is. Absolutely. And, no, the whole hiking thing wasn't a date. This guy is a simple fellow. He's not really a "social" person. We're not even really close friends. He mentioned one time how he would like to go hiking, but no one really likes hiking (BOY!! ain't that the truth!) I was feeling particularly happy that day and said, "Yeah, sure, I'll go hiking. Sounds like a hoot."

Well, I gave him the directions to my apartment. The directions to my front door. As I sat waiting for him, I heard this honking from the parking lot.

Oh HAIL naw.

I go out there, and, sure enough, it was him.

(Side note of etiquette: If you're picking up someone that lives in an apartment complex, it would do you well not to honk, especially if the person does not live in an apartment that is closest to the parking lot.)

I get in his truck and said, "Was the honking necessary?" He laughed. Oh, good, he thinks this is funny. "No, seriously, I live in an apartment complex." He laughs again. I remind you. He's a simple fellow. He actually found this funny and did not at all note the annoyance in my voice.

This was going to be a long day.

We're riding along and I note how he rides on people's ASSES while driving.

This annoys me too. Just because you have a big truck doesn't mean those of us with small cars give a rat's ass. You may feel like you're in a seat of power, but it's still your insurance rate that goes up when you hit us.

So, to start the day, I'm thoroughly annoyed. Plus, since I work a shift that ends at 4am, I hadn't slept. Eating might have helped too.

OK. So we get there. We haven't said much to each other. Before this, I had thought that he was just really quiet in social situations and might open up in a one-to-one setting.

I quickly learned that this was not the case.

It was a really beautiful day. The sky was a BRILLIANT blue. This may have been caused by my purple tinted sunglasses. I highly recommend picking up a pair.

We get to the trail that we had decided on. "Ice Box, Canyon." (My closer friends can appreciate the humor here.)A "Moderate" hike estimated at 2 hours with "rock scrambling." On either side, very, very big rocks. The two walls of rock make it impossible for sun to get into the canyon. Hence, the name. I will learn this repeatedly.

We start off, and it's a bit chilly. We start out on the trail, really no big deal. A path of loose rocks towards what I now recognize as HELL!!!

As I walk on the loose rocks, I remember why I never go hiking. I don't LIKE walking on loose rocks. It's unstable, and a little muscle spasm that I had noticed in the arch of my foot after my treadmill workout earlier in the morning had started to whisper to me.

He pauses in front of a sign and says, "That sign wasn't here when I was here a few years ago."

"............ok."

"You can see why it's called Ice Box Canyon. The sun can't get to it."

"yeah."

We hike on.

There are big rock steps to raise you higher into the trail and to mark where most of the trail will be going on or in between or on and between much larger rocks.

"These are pretty neat steps, huh?"

"............yeah."

He laughs.

(I start to realize I hate that laugh.)

We hike on.

The trail goes into a steep slope.

I say, "So, I'm supposed to be able to get back down that on the way back, eh?"

He laughs.

During this particular slope, I stepped on an unstable rock that I had assumed was more stable.

(Slight ankle twist.)

(Ow.)

(Oh, so it's gonna be like that.)

We hike on.

I realize that I am sweating. There was no glistening. I went from not sweating to sweating like a whore in church. (That's a good old adage I learned from my roommate, by the way.)

This is also the point where my personality split. If ever in the future I develop two distinct personalities, it can be pin-pointed to this particular space in time. I muttered to myself, "If I ever get a hold of her for making me do this."

(?)

(Crap, I should have gotten some sleep.)

He's quite a few steps in front of me.

(Side note of etiquette: If you go hiking with someone, and you're not going to talk anyway, it would do you well to look back every now and then to see if the person is still there.)

(A note about hiking in general: If you're female and you're hiking with a male, and ESPECIALLY if you aren't acclimated to hiking, DO NOT follow the guy footstep for footstep. Keep in mind that men are different. Keep in mind that men think differently. Most importantly, keep in mind that men will try to take the most difficult path to "challenge themselves". They will not let you know that there is actually a much easier path if you just go around the boulder rather than over it.)

I, myself, found this out as I was scrambling to "scramble" over a rock and he pointed out that the other way would be easier.

This is where I looked behind me to see that there were many other times where I could have gone AROUND the rock. I would like to point out here that there were more times ahead of me where he did not take the path of least resistence without bothering to point out the easier path. Good thing I had the mind to keep a lookout.

(I exploded his head with my mind.)

(Ankle twist)

(Ow.)

We hike on.

We came upon some very large, very flat rocks. I found this to be an ideal place to stop, sit down, open my backpack, and drink some life-giving water. I hadn't bothered to tell him that I had stopped. I figured that he would figure it out sooner or later. A clean minute later, his head popped back into view.

He says, "Yeah, this is a good time to stop."

(He takes a sip from this hose running from his bag.)

He says, "This thing is pretty handy. Don't have to bother with stopping and opening up your backpack to take a drink. It's pretty cool. It's such a hassle having to open your backpack to take a drink."

(I swear this is how he talks.)

(Side note of etiquette: It would do you well not to belittle your hiking partner's method of recuperation. Especially when there are miles of heavy, blunt objects around you.)

He continues, "Yeah. You can tell why they call it Ice Box Canyon, huh? Ain't no sun gettin' in here."

We hear voices. At first I thought that they were hikers coming from the opposite direction because there wasn't anyone that looked as though as they were about to start hiking when we started on the trail. They get closer as I realize that they are coming up behind us. And they're talking. And they're laughing. And they're hardly breaking a sweat. Well, as hikers go, I mean, at least THEY had someone to talk to, those fricking "in shape" types.

We hike on.

We come across where there might be a pool of water if rainfalls were to come. He points and says, "After it rains there is usually a pool of water here. Pretty cool."

"Cool."

(There are few who know PRECISELY how I said this.)

We hike on.

We come upon another exhaustingly steep incline with trees and shrubs and the like. I just look up and think, "No way."

He points at another section where water might build up during a rainfall and says, "Yeah, there's a pool here when it rains. Pretty cool."

(Oh, shut the fuck up.)

(Tree branch snaps back to whip me in the arm.)

(Ow.)

We hike on.

By this point, I've had it. I'm sweating. I'm miserable. I'm hungry. I'm lightheaded because I'm hungry and there is way too much clean oxygen in my head. My muscle spasm in my foot has started speaking to me a little louder, so I say, "I don't think I can. I'm feeling a little dizzy. So, you go ahead, I'll be here when you get back."

He laughs.

He waits.

He says, "Are you ready now?"

(Fucker.)

We hike on.

(Side note of etiquette: When a woman wants to stop doing something with 2 or more complaints after it, it would do you well to listen to her.)

As we hike, I'm a little dizzy. I no longer have much in the sense of balance. We come upon a rock bed where water may flow if there were to be rain.

"Yeah, when it rains, the water washes across here. It's kinda neat."

(You don't say? Would it be deep enough to drown a 250 pound man?)

(I run into a sharp stick into my cheek.)

(OH!!! I GET IT, MISS MOTHER NATURE!! I think ONE unkind thought about your precious hikers and you get all up in arms. I get it now, bitch.)

(Ankle twist.)

(Ow.)

I finally ask him where he is from because I didn't know, and he had an accent. He tells me he's from Kentucky and "I like it so much better out here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Kentucky sucks."

"Guess there's more to do out here, eh?"

"Yeah. I'd be a frickin' alcoholic if I lived out there. I went back cause a friend of mine was getting married and all I did was drink for a week. And I can drink a lot. (laughs) I had a friend that was almost an alcoholic but he got a DUI which slowed him down. I would be an alcoholic if I lived there. Ain't nothin to do out there. Cause I know I can drink a lot ESPECIALLY if there ain't nothing else to do but drink."

(Ok, department of redundancy department.)

(ankle twist)

(WHAT???)

I decide not to ask him anything else.

And we hike on.

Well.....until I decided I REALLY didn't want to go on anymore. The rocks were bigger and they were ones that I did have to climb up onto. And I said, "SERIOUSLY... go on. I just can't."

He laughed.

(Stupid ass mother fucker why don't you land face down in some rocks that would be wet if it were raining and leave me alone.)

(I brace myself for the next blow from Miss Nature)

(Nothing.)

(Heh, good one, Miss N.)

"Are you ready yet."

".........NO!!.... GO!!.. I'll be here."

He laughs.

(I really hate that laugh.)

He says, "It's right around the corner."

"Right around the corner past those HUGE, LOOMING rocks!"

He laughs again.

"Ok, we'll rest, then go up.....see why they call it Ice Box Canyon? No sun can get in here."

I realize that there is nothing I can do or say to get him the frag away from me and no way to convince him to turn back now.

So we hike on.

Managing to keep my balance and my sanity, I make it up the last ledge to the trail's destination...

Very, very tall rocks. A bunch of very, very tall rocks. Much like the tall rocks that had been surrounding us, but this is where they joined together.

He pointed and said, "When it rains..."

He didn't actually pause here, I'm just putting it in for dramatic effect.

"there's a waterfall right there. It's pretty cool."

We see the 4 people that had passed us earlier climbing higher into this rock. I hear the girl of the group say in a serious tone, "Golly gee whiz."

Any shred of respect I had for hikers has just vanished.

He mentions to me that when he was here with his cousin that they didn't try to climb up as high as the other group of hikers are, "But I bet there is some water up there."

I smile politely and continue sitting on the big, comfortable rock that I was sitting on.

He walks towards them. Sees a damned puddle of water and calls out, "There's a layer of ice up here."

I smile again politely.

He picks up a piece of ice and shows it to me. I say, "Ah."

He manly throws it down the ledge and it shatters. That part was actually pretty cool because it sounded like glass shattering. Kinda like the sound a bottle makes when you break it to plunge towards someone.

I hear the hikers talk and one of them says, "It's really beautiful out here when there is a waterfall."

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!)

They continue, "I came out earlier in the year and there were icicles hanging off it, really beautiful."

Another one, "Ooooh, did you get pictures of it?"

"Oh, of course, we did."

"We should come out again during the summer."

"Oh yeah, definitely."

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!)

(It's..........A ROCK! It's a rock when there's water flowing off of it. It is STILL a rock when there is ice attached to it. When the temperature is 140 degrees, do you know what's going to be here??? A ROCK!!!)

I stood up. I looked as though I was about to go. I was. I am thankful that he didn't try to convince me to stay a bit longer. Though he doesn't know it, HE is thankful that he didn't try to convince me to stay longer.

We hike out.

Every thread of my being is seething with rage of wading through agonizing torture (as my hamstrings hated me and my muscle spasm was now a little below a scream)to come upon the destination to look upon a GREAT

BIG

ROCK!!!!

Admittedly, the hike back took a lot less time. At some point he had the nerve to ask, "See? Wasn't it worth it to make our way back to that."

I was about flabbergasted and couldn't help but spew forth "NO!" Though I did mention to keep my "rock" comments to myself.

He said, "Oh really?"

And the bastard laughed.

We got to a part where he needed to use a tree branch to get through a narrow part to help him down where those of a slightly smaller stature could slide under it and step on a rock.

(Yeah, wiggle through that, fat boy.)

(I slipped and banged my knee on a rock.)

(OH COME ON!!!!)

As we made our way out, my mood started to lighten. I started to think fondly of the frozen pizza in my freezer and my warm, comfy bed.

A brief thought crossed my mind...

(That wasn't so bad, we could do that again.)

(I will find ways to kill you, Other Me.)

I get home. Murmur a thank you towards the devil spawn. Hand him a box of girl scout cookies that I had in my bag. (Don't worry, I have plenty more.)

I make it to my room, lay down...

....when the most agonizing cramp stabs me from the arch of my foot.

Well done, Madame Nature. You are a worthy adversary. Perhaps I shall be better prepared next time we meet.

{ previous ~ next }