Hiking Hell

On my first day off, Monday, I went on the most miserable hike of my life. A long time ago in a land faraway, I used to go on strenuous hikes to impress myself and hopefully a few men. I had thought that since then I had made a very conscious decision to give up “show hiking” so that I might actually enjoy being in the woods on even paths that don’t go vertically upwards into the sky. Apparently, I was wrong. My co-worker Sylvia asked me if I wanted to go on a hike, to Goat Lake and I said yes, without asking enough questions. She forgot to mention that it would be more fun if I were in fact a goat.

So I went through the mosquito infested swamp to get to the creek crossing up to my thighs with water so cold that I almost passed out mid-stream. Then we went on the “uphill” section. I’ve seen hills, this was a vertical, sandy, rocky path that slipped to the edges. All this adventure lead to the bouldering (jumping from boulder to boulder, not climbing) part of the hike, which quite frankly wouldn’t have been so bad, if we hadn’t been through the rest. My old lady feet and self-esteem took a whupping. Finally, I sent Sylvia onto the lake (she took those nice lake pictures) while I laid down on a rock and slept. Then on the way back, a thunder and lightning storm struck with an accompanying downpour. By the time I got down the mountain, I couldn’t feel or bend my hands (which apparently are related to my old lady feet). Eight hours of my precious day off wasted “trudging” it out. Sure, it was beautiful at the top, but not worth it! And then when I told my co-workers about it, they said it sounded fun. These people are sick, they obviously need a movie theatre in closer proximity.