So, yep, I have been pretty absent from these parts. And let me tell you all, I am beyond morose about it. Part of my synapses have totally been rewired into a write, post, and upvote on Steemit pattern, and each day that I don't post causes a slight sensation of discomfort to swirl around like a biting little brain wasp of irritating reminderness. Or something.
Anyway, as of late, I have attained a new level of busytude. In my exhaustion it seems I am butchering vocabulary words, so perhaps I will just get to the point of tonight's missive. The Hike.
In all reality it should be called Kat and M's Cryptozoology Hike Part Two. Lest I get ahead of myself let me start from almost the beginning. My friend M and I try to go on a restive overnight backpacking trip at least once a summer. This year's expedition was short couple of mile hike to Maidenhead Creek Trail. The hike started in the Forest Service woods just a few miles from my grandparent's home. It tickled my adventurous fancy to discover three new trail heads so close to their house.
After a bit of traversing through a pleasant grove of cedars we came to a crevass of curiousness. The space between the mountainsides was about only twenty feet, and even though the cedars kept meandering along the creek that carved through the mountains, there were also huge masses of granite rocks scattered like a titan dropped a bag of irregular marbles. The greatest thing about these rocks splays were that they were emanating cold air!
The huge temperature drop that I felt as I strode across the rocks reminded me of the ice cave that is near my other grandma's home at the bottom on a similar steep, rock covered mountainside. That thirty degree temperature change was most appreciated as the mercury was well above the 90 degree mark. I started calling the rock strewn places The Air Conditioner.
As we strode down the mountain valley, we found ourselves chatting amiably as friends do. Suddenly, M squeaked and hopped off the edge of the very narrow trail.
"M! What is it?" I inquired. (Fun fact time, when I go out into the woods for an overnight venture, I tend to be suitably armed. M sounded so concerned that my pistol reminded me of its presence in my bellyband).
"I think it is a snake!" She squeaked.
Now M is one of the toughest, non-squishy people I know, but boy does she despise reptiles of the snakey kind. Me, while I don't really want to sleep with a boa, I tend to not mind them too much, and even made friends with an 8 foot white and yellow python once.
Anyway, I walked up to investigate the so-called snake. A long, tentacle-like creature came into my gaze. At this point in the trail we were descending a dry, narrow part of the trek, quite a ways above the creek. It was a very arid part of the trail, complete with rocks and roots. So my mind was a little mystified by what I was seeing. For honestly the tentacle thing didn't look like a snake to me, it looked like someone had chopped off the appendage of a mythical creature. The "thing" was a grey and hunter green color on the top and beige clay color on its underside. It was missing its head and was just lying curled up in the trail. I had never seen anything like it.
It reminded me of these legless salamanders I had seen at a library program quite a few years ago. The little fellas were native to the swamps of Lake Pend Oreille, but to be honest we were still high up and about a mile from its shores. Weird.
The weirdness continued. twenty feet from the creature was a handful of the fancy kind of trail mix sitting upon a flat rock on the side of the trail. Twenty feet beyond that was an abandoned backpack. It has a Girl Scout camp logo on it. My imagination really kicked into over drive at all of the elements of a fantastic No Sleep story being present in the middle of nowhere.
We moved on down the trail after determining that no one was around. I really regret not taking a picture of the creature, but like all things cryptozoological, perhaps its existence is best left an enigma.
A short while later we popped out onto a glorious beach about the size of a football field. It's shores were covered with rocks of the excellent for skipping kind, and aside from a family who had boated in for the evening, the place was ours.
Hammocks are one of my favorite things, and after being bucked off my normal two times, I finally got my hammock into optimal Kat position. Things were looking up.
And by up I mean it was food time. Being of hobbit-like stature, it only goes to say that I am very serious about food. No Ramen for this Kat on hikes. I made M and I a couple of rosemary and olive oil wraps full of spicy red roasted pepper hummus, roasted chicken, spring mix, red onions, feta, and drizzled in Italian dressing. We feasted in an amiable silence at our picnic table on the beach on the edge of Lake Pend Oreille.
After dinner M and I hopped into our hammocks and got out our phones. Interestingly enough, even out in the woods on the edge of the lake we had service, but we had our phones out for the ebooks that they contained. We spent the next couple hours in a companionable silence, swaying in the wind, reading our books, and enjoying the absolute joy a person can feel when they have to attend only to themselves. As it grew dark, I chucked my phone to the side and enjoyed the bat show. The little winged bug removal squad were in a feeding frenzy. No insect stood a chance. A couple of the little guys grazed over the top of my hammock. I giggled a bit.
After a remarkably serene sleep, I awoke early and wandered down the bank to the picnic table. There is something so nice about sitting on a weathered picnic table on the edge of a huge lake. Little waves beat against the flat stones at my feet and I just sat there in blissful thoughtlessness.
A man then appeared on the beach, he had come from the pit toilet and was walking toward me. His approach was a little disconcerting and as he strode closer I wondered what the heck this strange guy could want. He got ten feet away, stopped, and said,
"Oh. You're not my mom."
I had been sitting at the table in my fleece pajama pants and a grey sweatshirt, and I have to admit it was hard to stifle a giggle. I did though as my thoughts turned to the pit toilet as the man of mistaken identity strode back to his encampment and I assume, his mother.
The pit toilet at our camp place was the cleanest one I have ever seen. It actually smelled nice. That's because it had an actual air freshener, not to mention there were Lysol wipes and it was fully stocked with toilet paper. I know this phenomenon was observed because the place was a hike in or boat in type of place, but it was just so glorious I had to give the toilet of fresh smellness its due in fond thought land.
One nice thing about hammocks is that camp clean up is a cinch, and before you could say stuff that sleeping bag we were ascending the hill. That was the only negative thing about our hike, the entire way back was all uphill, and the grade wasn't gentle.
Sadly, our creature, nor the trail mix were there. I guess the world will never see the mysterious thing. Not that I am too concerned about it. I am just wondering what mysterious thing I will spy on my next adventure with M. The first hike gave us the whooping, this one was the snake thing, and now I am wondering if next year will bring about something like Wendigo or a skinwalker. Only time will tell....
And as almost always, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's bemused at the author's whimsical views iPhone.
