Hugh and I had a pretty chill Labor Day weekend; we mostly putzed around the house. However, on Monday, we decided to get a little more adventurous and invited Kristi to go four-wheeling in the mountains above Hooterville.
We usually make this trip over the 4th of July holiday, so it was interesting to see how much more traffic there was on the trails this time of year. I thought it seemed excessive, and when I mentioned it to Hugh, he informed me that it was opening day for the archery hunters, so the traffic made a lot more sense.
Even with the hunters, we had plenty of space to enjoy the trails. In the interest of full transparency; I would have enjoyed them more had it not been for two separate incidents in which I managed to high center my machine, requiring Hugh's assistance to rescue me. Oh, and the one teeny-tiny slip and fall that bruised my face up. But, that is neither here nor there.
And, yes, I have been walking long (thank you, Hugh).
In my defense, the slope I was on was a slippery slope and the shoes I was wearing were, perhaps, not the most appropriate for the terrain. Anyhoodle, my face is fine (as are my right knee and left shoulder, which somehow both got banged up in the tumble because I am an overachiever at all things Dramatic Fall category).
Let's get back to talking about the weather and beautiful mountain surroundings.
The first stop on our trail ride was a small lake that we have visited many times, before. One year, Kristi actually stripped down to her shorts and swam in it. She had no interest in repeating that, however, because last time, she was unwittingly shared the water with a snake. Upon that realization, she swore off lake swimming.
Oh, speaking of snakes! I managed to pull the very best snake prank on Hugh, ever! While he was fishing in the beaver pond that I'm going to talk about later, I threw a rubber snake over the seat of his side-by-side, threading the head through the seat belt latch. When Hugh got into the rig and pulled his seatbelt on to fasten it; the snake slithered over the seat and his shoulder, into his lap. He jumped almost high enough to hit his head on the roof of the side-by-side, screamed like a girl, and panic-threw the snake out the window.
It was my finest moment.
Anyhoodle, our next stop on the tour was the beaver dam that I mentioned a moment ago. Last year, it was a small pond, with a stream that ran out and down the hillside. This year, a family of beavers have taken over it more efficiently than a Venezuelan gang taking over a trio of apartment complexes (hello, Aurora, Colorado), and they have it dammed up to create a much larger pond, with no outlet.
The new pond is a better breeding ground for fish, apparently, because Hugh caught-and released- four or five of them in a matter of minutes. We never did see a beaver, though.
We did, however, just barely miss seeing a bear. We know this because the giant pile of shit he left in the middle of the trail was still steaming as we pulled up to it. I have a picture of the pile, with Hugh's size nine shoe next to it for size reference, but this is a family blog and I like to keep it clean. So, just picture these berries...
...semi-digested into a pile of crap taller than a small puppy and as wide as Hugh's hiking boots are long.
The bear was probably still there, among the aspen trees in that part of the forest, wiping his ass with a leaf and pondering his existence.
Speaking of the aspen trees; we hadn't noticed how thick the trunks on some of them were until we were stopped to inspect the caca. I'm not sure what that says about our power of observation, but I'm thinking it wouldn't bode well for us if, indeed, the bear was lurking nearby.
The picture below is a picture of Kristi taking a picture of Hugh, who was attempting to get his arms around the trunk of one of the bigger aspens. These are the things one does for fun when one's children have flown the nest and there are no grandbabies to fawn over.
I am not a fan of people defacing nature, so I am always irritated by the markings that we see on the trees in the forest. That being said, the tree below was marked with the date 9-2-52, which was ironic since yesterday was also September 2nd. And, I can't go back 72 years and bitch-slap the asshole who etched it into the bark of the tree, so no sense in getting too huffy.
We finished off the trail a little before 4:00, having rode 32 miles on the circular path that starts, and ends, at the trailhead where we parked the truck. Despite my piss-poor performance on my machine and less-than-graceful (in the best Ms. Congeniality Fashion) tumble down the slope; it was a fun day. I'm glad Kristi got to spend it with us and I know that Erin was simply seething with jealousy back in Wales, which is what she gets for abandoning us for a life of adventure. I mean, she missed out on bear poop. Does it really get more adventurous than that? I guess Kristi will check in with her on that topic when she rejoins her in November.
I'll keep you posted.
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