Cress Creek Trail

  

 That mound of gray material atop the rock, according to the sign, is ash that was all hot and sticky and formed a kind of concretesque substance when it got compacted. I didn't get to go up and examine it closely because it was off the trail and, as you can see by the photo, not easily accessible from that location. Although, I do think I could've reached it if I had had the time and inclination.

We had slipped the chafing leash of fair Byzantium to seek adventure to the north. The All Trails app promised a "moderate" hike an hour away. I didn't notice whether we beat the estimated time, but we did arrive without mishap to the location where a hill or small mounts arise from the fertile plain along the Snake River. The trail head failed to elude us as Madame Google brought us to the parking lot. The lot was nearly full. I imagined that a full lot meant an easy hike but lots of people.

Before we left, I told my companion that it was an hour away and the trail was less than a mile and a half long. Naturally, she packed food and drink for a three day journey through orc infested forest--and we wouldn't be missing any second breakfasts. 

I, too, had planned ahead, and upon our arrival, I pulled out a bandana and rolled five or six ice cubes in it and tied it around her neck. I prepared another one and put it around my own neck. We loaded a couple bottles of water into the backpack and began the journey outlined on the app. 

The first part of the trail is actually paved--not asphalt, but actual concrete; although I don't think it was formed naturally like the gray stuff in the photo above. We passed a few folks on their way out, and when we arrived at the creek itself, several people and their kids were soaking up the shade. Naturally, considering that lingering in that area could lead to interacting with people, we continued up the trail.

"Up" is the operative word. The trail climbs to the high point with a few lookouts for those who wish to look down upon the domain below.

 That one must be from pretty low. It hardly makes one feel lordly at all.

I believe that one is a view from on the way up.

 

I think that one is from the first lookout. There was a better, higher lookout, but my companion declined to hike over to it, so that view will forever remain a mystery. Although, I think it would be a lot like that picture above, only a little higher.

This one may be from the top of the trail where the view is largely blocked by the trees. We encountered both Utah Juniper and Rocky Mountain Juniper, as well as a lot of other foliage. Most of the plant life crowded the stream, leaving the rest of the hillside to the Utah Juniper.

This picture shows some of that gray stuff closer to the trail. Both the picture at the top and this picture are were taken at the beginning/end of the trail. The trail is a short loop with only about 350 feet of elevation gain, if I remember correctly. It left me wanting more, but my companion thought it was just right. I could tell, because she didn't complain or make threats against my person during or after the trip.

We didn't even need to open the pack during the hike, waiting until we got back to the car before getting a drink and then nibbling at second breakfast on the ride home.

In the writing sector, I've finished chapter sixteen of book 3 in my adventures for boys series. It's coming along well, even though I'm still uncertain how the heroes get from where they are to where they have to be to finish the book. The journey is always an adventure.

5 Golden Rings

 It's done. Child number 5 has entered the hallowed halls of wedded bliss. There's no guarantee on the earthly duration of the bliss, but if ignorance is also bliss, then turning a blind eye to many little annoyances should help. However, somethings are a very big deal. I shared with son-in-law that much of the rest of his life will be spent in discovering that many things he took for granted or never gave much thought to are now, in fact, a very big deal. The information will frequently come as a complete surprise to him; just as it will surprise her that he could've failed to realize a thing so obvious to her. They're in for some good times.

The wedding took place in the morning, followed by a luncheon, and then a reception in the evening. I shot a picture of one of the few outdoor decorations at the reception venue because nothing says matrimony like hyper-salivating lions.

We had all our children together again, and they had good news to share. 

We had a nice hike in this alien landscape:

 While the young ones chose to explore a cave, I elected to go up the red rocks--what with it getting dark and there being a marked lack of flashlights among us--as I didn't think there would be much to see by the light of a phone in the obscure, subterranean recesses--except for gargoyles. I watched Gargoyles with Cornell Wilde (he wasn't watching with me; he was in the movie) during workouts a few weeks ago and I knew I did not want to meet one or more gargoyles in the dark with only a water bottle and a phone light as my primary weapons. Maybe...if the water was holy water and the phone light was a ray of turning with a +2 flash causing cringing fear... but I digress.

 I didn't meet any any bipedal lizards and therefore didn't attempt to make a primitive cannon, and the spelunkers emerged sans gargoyle companions. It was an evening well spent.

Prior to the exploration expedition and after succumbing to a nap brought on by the earlier activities, I had a brainstorm while cogitating about a new short story. I've got the main character, now I have to hammer out a little trauma, drama, and dream to forge a tale of mystery and adventure that will smack the reader right between the eyebrows.

Next week, it's Writers Cantina. 

 

 

 

 

Wiggly Worm Trail

 

There are many trails in life. Some we choose of our own volition while others we discover by fortunate circumstance or its opposite. I selected two trails this week that I had not tried before from the All Trails app. First, although no one told me to go there, I nevertheless went to Hell's Half Acre Loop Northbound trail and took my bride with me. It was an easy, paved trail that we walked twice and which featured this kind of scenery:

I don't know what this plant is called, but it has a smell that makes me think of honey.

Saturday, we drove out to the Wiggly Worm trail. The thing about the drive to it was that the map and directions took us to a point where we made a left turn and I was supposed to then make another left turn immediately. I didn't suspect the second left turn direction until forty or fifty feet beyond the turning point when the left turn at 0 feet notice disappeared and the view was blocked, so I couldn't see the trail head. Instead of indicating that my destination was fifty feet to the rear, the directions sent me on a three mile loop to return to the spot where I hadn't turned left. Hardly the best use of time and gas.

The trail was a pleasant foot path for the entire climb and weaving back and forth about 48 times to gradually climb up the bowl-like hillside. At one end, junipers offered some shade, but the rest of the trail was in full sun. Each trck across the face of the hill was nearly level with the turns at each end bringing most of the elevation change. The trail hit a dirt road at the top which formed the return part of the loop. The rough and dusty road didn't provide as nearly a pleasant experience as the narrow foot path. My wife got some pictures but she didn't send me any that didn't have one of both of us in them, so I won't post any of those.

The trails were two great hikes. The sidewalk through the lave field was easy going with a couple steep stairways. The Wiggly Worm was easy to moderate and provided a nice view of Pocatello and the surrounding area for miles beyond.

 I was able to get the rest of the photos from the pack trip downloaded. Those which feature a blue sky and discernible clouds are from the hike into a lake (not actually into the lake, just next to, beside, adjacent to). These two photos are particularly picturesque--a tribute to the talented photographer. They are of the same terrain from different spots on the trail, and different magnification.

The two pictures below were taken from the same location (not the same location as the pictures of above). The first was taken of the setting sun without any magnification; the second one was magnified. The quality of all of these photos is entirely due to luck. Most of the time, I could not see the photo (on my phone) so I made my best guess and clicked.

The smoke which filled the skies after the first day because of the many fires in the region gave a slightly eerie quality to the photos--especially to the zoom of the setting sun.

I didn't take a fishing pole. I had two very good reasons for that decision. I didn't want to have to carry the extra weight of the pole and tackle, and I had plans to do something else instead of fishing. Also, I didn't want to eat fish.

While the other guys fished, I brought out my notebook and plotted out, start to finish, a flintlock fantasy novel for which I had already written the first thousand words. An unintended side effect of this plan was that a couple of the boys in the group took an interest in the story and wanted to hear my plot, etc. One of them had his own story on which he was working. I got to hear his entire story. The other boy had a keen interest in the weapons and characters of my story. He and I created a couple characters that he wanted to see in the story. He also had several ideas for a flintlock repeating rifle that he wanted his character to use (but which is not featured in the story for obvious reasons).

He even found a piece of wood that he used for this special weapon in his combat games with a couple of the other boys on the trip. This piece of wood became a constant source of humor/conflict. When the boy would place the "weapon" on the ground to take care of some other activity, like eating dinner. Whoever was stoking the fire would grab the closest pieces of wood at hand. Invariably, the "weapon" would be tossed on the fire. Someone would bring the matter to the boy's attention and he would snatch it from the flames. A forceful statement followed about how one should not throw another's "weapon" on the fire. A counter statement followed about the inadvisability of leaving one's "weapon," which closely resemble an old piece of wood, next to the fire. This only happened six or eight times

I, of course, made my own weapon. A deadly wooden beauty it was. If Michelangelo had worked in coniferous woods, he might have created something like this...

...if he had been completely devoid of talent and lacking even rudimentary carving skills. 

I had forgotten to pack a fork and spoon, I wasn't worried about the spoon, but I needed a fork. This beauty really was deadly. During the making of the tines, I used the small saw blade on my Swiss Army knife (from back when I served under the plus sign flag) to saw into the end of the grain. Occasionally, the blade would come completely past the top of the wood on the upstroke. If I didn't notice that little detail in a rather timely manner, the downstroke encountered not the stubbornly resistant grain of the wood, but the remarkably unresistant flesh of my hand. 

It was while I was placing a bandage on the flesh between my thumb and forefinger that I noticed the blood dripping from my wrist. I had thought that my watchband had caught the brunt of that particular errant stroke--it had not; it had only hidden the wound and delayed the discovery.

So the fork turned out to be a two bandage project (cf. Three Dog Night). The fork gave valiant service against a variety of opponents, including spaghetti, beef stew, and hash browns, coming out victorious on each occasion. More importantly, it didn't give me any slivers.

We arrived here on Monday and began the nine and one half mile hike through rugged country in the middle of the day--during the hottest week of the year. 

Part of the view from the first summit. The smoke from the nearby fires wasn't too bad that first day.

It was somewhere near here that we met two diminutive lads who mentioned something about being on their way to return a piece of jewelry that had been giving them problems.

I haven't succeeded yet in downloading the remaining pictures. The story of the death march and the successful plotting of a new book will wait until I can get the other photos--the much better ones-- included.
***

I did get back in time to attend a daughter's wedding. There are days that shine like the brightest stars in the firmament. Yesterday was one of those days. To see one's children gathered in an important place, doing the right things for the right reasons is a premium parental pay-day. I couldn't help but look upon them and say, "I guess we didn't totally mess up. We may have even done a thing or two correctly." Of course, the self-congratulations may be hollow. Probably, the material we had to work with had an innate resilience; the other influences, especially that of my wife, overcame most of my mistakes in the life lessons and personal responsibility department.

The wedding was a wonderful and simple affair followed by an excellent luncheon put together by the groom's family. Fantastic souls turned out to setup for the reception at our home in the evening.

The canvas of this daughter's life is painted in laughter. I'm sure that pattern will continue. Tears and sweat mark the canvas in vivid colors as well, but the dominant theme has been that of fun and good-spirits. She has matured much in the last two years. As she pushes away from the secure shores of youth to set out upon the windswept waters of adult responsibility, there is an air of expectation, an aspiration for life on a higher plane united with another heart. The waves will roll, the storms may rage, but their quiet confidence in each other and in the principles that have brought them together will guide them through the difficulties of life. Of course, it may not be the rolling thunder, banks of fog, or tumultuous waves that present the greatest difficulties. The doldrums of life where supports seem absent and progress stalls often try the soul as severely as any storm. Tenacious perseverance and steadfast determination in the face of the seemingly empty void, like the long, slow trudge across the desert expanse, may build more character and unity than does the fierce melee against the contrary elements. May they live long and prosper in love, laughter, and learning of each other and the many subtle secrets of success.