Bandera and I have a history…and that history always seems to involve me bonking. But since our history also includes jaw-dropping sunsets, purdy wildflowers, and excellent views, I agreed to go back, again, to one of JK’s favorite trails.
A trifecta of dumbassedry (we failed to check the forecasted temperature), logistics (the road to the trailhead was closed until noon due to logging), and borderline obesity (peanut butter cups) led to yet another bonk as I attempted to propel my body up that beast of a hill under the scorching afternoon sun.
The temps were pushing 90, which to a Seattle-dwelling Norwegian might as well be Death Valley in the middle of summer. I sat down (repeatedly), told JK and the pups to go ahead, ate an entire bag of Honey Stinger chews, drank most of my water, put on some tunes, and eventually made it to the top – one Everest-paced step at a time.
(A disclaimer for the Annoyed Reader: I am not at all complaining about the presence of the sun, whose absence I lament in 97% of my blog posts, I am merely complaining about, uhm, the heat produced by said fireball. Totally different.)
On the summit, all was forgotten. Ok, not really, but my blood sugar was back to normal and I was lucid enough to see things in perspective: Having to sit down and rest with views like these is not the worst thing in the world.
Still, Bandera and I will always have a history…but I’ll make sure our future together only contains cold days or sunsets.