Mr. Leary
Glamping Excursionaire
It's been too long since my last "walk" in the woods, and with the weather cooling down and the world returning to habitable status, I couldn't contain myself any longer. I was going for a walk, and that was all there was to it.
The weather forecast predicted thunderstorms all weekend... perfect... nobody else will be out there.
I cleared the dust off of my backpacking gear. I knew that this trip would be a challenge for me, since I am in pretty poor backpacking shape and the 22 mile loop with lots of elevation change would be sure to test my battered joints.
I called the usual suspects, and we plotted our escape from the concrete jungle.
We left relatively late. We knew we would be camping at the trailhead and setting out in the morning. The Cossatot River lay only about a third of a mile down the trail, and since it had been raining all day I was not interested in attempting a crossing in the dark.
In the morning, we got off to a "comfortable" start , at around 0830. We were in no rush, and there is a strict rule against alarm clocks on these trips, established years ago.
The Cossatot was down to mid calf by the time we arrived. Hardly what I expected, even though I knew that it had been dry up there this year just as it has in Texas. We crossed and John filled his Nalgenes. I looked for the heart shaped rocks that I always bring home to my wife after a trip. Lots of neat rocks here. These deeply dug river beds yield several layers of rocks, and the mix is part of the beauty. Perhaps a geologist could tell a tale. I was simply happy to look at them, unconcerned with the mystery they hold.
The weather forecast predicted thunderstorms all weekend... perfect... nobody else will be out there.
I cleared the dust off of my backpacking gear. I knew that this trip would be a challenge for me, since I am in pretty poor backpacking shape and the 22 mile loop with lots of elevation change would be sure to test my battered joints.
I called the usual suspects, and we plotted our escape from the concrete jungle.
We left relatively late. We knew we would be camping at the trailhead and setting out in the morning. The Cossatot River lay only about a third of a mile down the trail, and since it had been raining all day I was not interested in attempting a crossing in the dark.
In the morning, we got off to a "comfortable" start , at around 0830. We were in no rush, and there is a strict rule against alarm clocks on these trips, established years ago.
The Cossatot was down to mid calf by the time we arrived. Hardly what I expected, even though I knew that it had been dry up there this year just as it has in Texas. We crossed and John filled his Nalgenes. I looked for the heart shaped rocks that I always bring home to my wife after a trip. Lots of neat rocks here. These deeply dug river beds yield several layers of rocks, and the mix is part of the beauty. Perhaps a geologist could tell a tale. I was simply happy to look at them, unconcerned with the mystery they hold.