Maybe there’s hope for me.
Because, after I posted the blog and only a few days later, I was, against my will, sliding down an icy mountainside.
What happened is that on Sunday we hiked one of Jalal’s mountain trails. The hike began with us wearing ordinary foot-wear, part way up it became foot-wear with spikes and then it became foot-wear with spikes while hanging onto a long rope.
On the way back we took what was called the easier route. Part way down, the easier route became the harder route. The soft fluffy snow became hard icy snow. So, there was Vincent and I hugging a tree while Jalal, who was wearing mountaineer’s spikes on his boots, cautiously worked his way down the icy mountain. He used his spikes to smash foot-holds into the ice for us. It was almost impossible for me to break the ice and snow with my pointed ski pole.
Anyway, I managed to get my wide-toed boot into one foot-hold and then it was free-Willy. I was sliding down the mountain-side, on the Sabbath even. Quickly gaining speed and without knowing whether to pray to God or be an atheist and mentally arrange my books while I whipped through a mountainous cartoon world.
Next stop was, maybe, going to be a big tree. I know I was aiming for it and quite aware that hitting the tree could possibly stop my trip but also involve broken bones or worse.
However, if I missed it, I was going to be skidding on down the mountain until I crashed into the forest many feet below.
I’m not sure whether my mental book arranging, my quickly tossed out prayer or coincidence helped, but just before I hit the tree I ran into soft fluffy snow and my ride was over.
Anyway, I noticed that, otherwise, I was still in pretty good shape.
I felt sorry for Vincent who was still hanging onto the tree. My ride had been sudden and scary, but it was over. I could now relax and think about my next blog.
Luckily, Vincent was better at it than me and was able to avoid a fun ride down the mountain.
The end of the hike had a happy ending. We all ended up in Jalal’s kitchen where we were given a great meal. Some of the best chicken I’ve ever tasted.
I think the river also took a hard right before it passed our trailer. This may be due to the beaver dam.
And a day later I decided that I wasn’t going write a blog about how our washing machine wasn’t co-operating. ‘F’ it.
Yesterday, I had to shout at a squirrel who was trying to gnaw his way into our deck’s inner sanctum.
"F" it all!