Up, Up, Up, Up, Up, Down

The view from the top

Saturday was a beautiful day in the mountains. Sunny and warm, it was going to be perfect for the 3^rd Annual St. Patrick’s Day hike around the mountain ridge into which the retreat is nestled. After a breakfast of fresh-from-the-farm eggs, sausage so recently ground that you could hear the squeal while it was frying, hash browns, and sliced tomatoes, we made ready for the day’s festivities.

 
The green necklaces and bracelets were unpacked. The cooler was stocked with both water and beer. A pitcher of green shots were mixed (Pearl Divers: 1 part Midori, 1 part Coconut Rum, 2 parts Pineapple Juice shaken with ice and strained).

Carl and Billy: First Breather

Actually, 2 pitchers of shots were mixed. The first pitcher was the unfortunate victim of “alcohol abuse” as a result of wind, an open screen door, and poor pitcher placement.

We were expecting about 10 people or so to come along, but due to a myriad of last minute “emergencies,” there was only one other person who showed up for the three-mile hike. Carl and I were both disappointed, but the weather was gorgeous and our spirits were high when we set off with Billy on the trail.

A few minutes later, I came to discover that hiking in the mountains is a bit like being in spin class. The trail only goes up. There is no down. The trail started with a steep ascent, that became more vertical with each step. It then leveled a bit, went vertical again, then leveled and so on five more times until we reached what I thought was the peak. Next time we attempt this trail, I think a long stretch and warm up would be a good idea. We were all huffing and puffing on the first leg of the trail.  

I can see my camper home from here

After a short stretch of level ground, the trail went up a few more times. There were a few jokes about thin air and wings melting, but we finally made it to the top. Since there was not any foliage, we had a clear view of the distant mountains and valleys. We could even see our “camper home” way down in the valley.  

An hour an half later, we emerged from the woods to find a small group of guys standing around. We invited them to join us for celebratory beers and shots. The group seemed to grow a bit once the shot started flowing, but we were happy to have made it back to level ground. Besides, shots are always better in a crowd.

Next time we brave the trails we will have to come up with a better incentive to encourage more participation, but I imagine once the pool opens, the option for strenuous activity will lose out to lounging in the sun with a cooler full of cold beverages near at hand.  

Carl and Glenn: Happy Trails