Always be wary of the two-legged women

My various abdominal maladies have prevented us from taking any summits, though we did have some pleasant hikes yesterday, in spite of it all. We didn't achieve any destinations to speak of. We just walked until I complained of too much pain, then we turned around and walked the other way. There were some lovely views along Twin Lakes, then up the path above them towards the upper lakes.

If I were a fisherman then I'd have a different story to tell.

We got rained out on our first hike, which was for the best. It was rated as "Difficult" and had a 2800 ft. elevation differential. We didn't even get started until around noon.  About 20 minutes in we made the vote, at my insistence, to go back to a local lodge and wait it out. This was for the best. 

Two Coors did me no favors at the lodge bar, nor afterwards on the next hike. Until you've been forced to contend with diarrhea in the semi-private wilderness then you have not lived. It lowers your expectations, adjusts your ideas of yourself, and grants a more favorable view towards civilization. 

Nothing seems quite so civilized as a clean, private toilet, stocked with soft paper.

My buddies humored me and didn't need to hike so badly that one of us would die. On the way back to the car I felt like a "Make a Wish" kid. I was where I had wanted to be, though also on death's front lawn, in dire need of intravenous saline.

We had hot dogs and a vegetable / meat chili for dinner as the sun set and the campfire grew. Then, out came the wine, which agreed with my intestines more. Then, the guitar arrived. We took turns playing songs we partially remembered. Only one of us knew any from beginning to end, and he played them quite well. A lot of folk, mostly American and some Irish (The Lake of Ponchartrain). The friend that could play snuck in one original song, which was among the best of the night. It had a memorable image of catching lightning in a boxcar, for a girl.

My buddy also did some alternate renditions of pop tunes, Dancing in the Dark among them. Strip away the production and sing the song woefully and it's another beast altogether.

I tried to remember the verses to one of my favorites: "Well I come from the country, so she thinks I'm easy to lose." I fumbled my way through some self-invented lyrics, improvisational lyrics, and then gave up. 

It was a good time.  

The picture you see above is the river that cuts through our campsite. This morning we will bathe there. If my friends are upstream, then it will become nature's bidet. I will pause, dip, drop, and let the beauty of nature refresh my spirit. 

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