DON'T DRESS IN LAYERS AND STAY ALERT

VIEW FROM SUMMIT

Sunday morning, my throat felt raw and I felt tired, so I decided to climb Blueberry Mountain. 

APPROACHING SUMMIT

Being tired makes me neurotic. I worry about stupid things like how I should dress. I knew it was always colder on top of a mountain. So, I dressed in layers. I should have known that too many layers can be a problem, if you don’t know what to do with the layers after you’ve shed them. 

​Tara, my hiking buddy, brought three of her kids along on the hike. The little fella’s snow pants kept causing him trouble. This kept the hiking pace at a reasonable rate for this old fella. 

ENERGY DRINK

As we climbed we encountered more snow and more sweat. So much so that I had to remove my heavy shirt which was under my heavy winter coat. I tied the shirt’s arms around my waist.

​The higher we climbed the hotter I got. 

CROSSING A BROOK

I couldn’t see. My glasses were fogged up, my eyes were burning and my camera lens was steamed and wouldn’t un-mist.

NATURE'S JEWELLERY

On one of my stops to clear my glasses and for the little guy to adjust his pants, I started worrying about not being able to hear a key-jingling sound coming forth from any of my pockets. Which pocket had I put my keys in? Was this a neurotic concern? 

ENJOYING VIEW

I made some cursory searches during our brief stops, but couldn’t locate them or hear them. Oh god, had they fallen out of my shirt pocket when I tied the shirt around my waist? A quick check of my shirt and some of the six or seven winter coat pockets and my vest’s pockets found nothing to end my worry.

CHASE THE GLOVE GAME

We kept climbing and climbing. Near the top we saw huge moose tracks. My hiking buddy began to sing. She told her kids that she sang because she wanted to let the moose know we were there, so we wouldn’t startle it. 

I tried to offer some levity to the hike.

​“Do you know how you can identify bear scat?” I asked.

“You see lots of berries in it,” was the response.

“No, you look for crap filled with tiny pieces of bells, bugles, pots and pans,” I responded. Yuk, yuk.

​The view from the summit was gorgeous and even though I was in full key-lost-worry-mode, I couldn’t help from enjoying the view and from taking photographs.

RESCUED

I then did a thorough search of all my known pockets. My hiking buddy even took my shirt, turned it upside down and gave it a good shake. No jingling or jangling sounded forth. I couldn’t find the keys in any of my coat’s six or seven pockets, my vest’s two pockets, my snow pant’s three pockets or my blue jean’s four pockets. My tee shirt is pocketless. 

NIGHT-FALL APPROACHES BLUEBERRY MTN

We hurried back down the mountain as Tara was in a rush to get the kids out before dark. 

​I hiked at the back of the line with the little fella who was always adjusting his pants. We had a lively conversation as I poked and prodded the snow with my ski pole trying to find my keys. “Here keys. Here keys. Here, boy.”

BULLS EYE

Half-way down the mountain I noticed that my damn shirt was gone. 

​I stopped and yelled at the hikers that I had to go back up and get my shirt. You see I was afraid that my keys were bunkered down in a pocket that I hadn’t known existed.

AN IRONICAL MAGA CULT ANTIDOTE

“If you find my keys just leave them on the hood,” I shouted. 

As they hiked down the trail I heard the children shouting, “Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas.” 

​I was alone with no keys and no shirt. 

​I found my shirt near the top. On the way down the mountain, the sun too quickly slipped towards its nightly resting place as I poked every dark spot I saw in the snow. No keys.

SUE & BUSTER ENJOYING BADDECK'S CHRISTMAS LIGHTS

I began to think about nightfall in the park and how dark it would be. How I might have to build a fire while I waited for somebody to pick me up. I began to think about how exciting that might be and what a story it would make when it was all over. I began to think about lots of things and when I got down to my truck, just before it got really dark, I saw the keys sticking out of my tail-gate. I had put them in and then had a sudden, inconvenient senior’s moment attack. 

CORNEY BROOK TRAIL

On the way home I decided to pull over at a look-off and remove my coat. Don’t worry, I still had layers and layers to go.

​Then I phoned my hiking buddy and told her I’d found the keys. 

​She laughed. “We know. We’re right behind you.”

CORNEY BROOK'S CUTE WEE BRIDGE

Her car pulled up next to my truck, we rolled down our windows, so we could communicate, and I showed them my keys. The three young hikers were very interested in my keys’ show and tell demonstration.

​She told me she’d been worried about me, so they’d driven around and then came back to see if my truck was still there. 

​We chewed the fat for a few more minutes and then she drove away while three separate voices shouted from the car interior, “Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas.”

CORNEY BROOK

On the way home, I stopped for a few cans of beer to offer as a sacrifice to the gods of luck.

SNOWY CORNEY BROOK

I’d had my adventure, but it was a bit more of a trying adventure than I’d planned on and I wondered if this had happened because of my dry throat, my being tired and my possible neurotic tendencies.

HIKING BUDDY & ME AT THE CORNEY BROOK FALLS

SNOWY TRAIL