Instead of "a story to tell the grandkids," I suppose "bloggable day" is a decent substitute for a day of mishap and misadventure. Although Saturday ended up okay, there were plenty of things that went bonkers.
First there was the plan to get out and bike at Capitol Forest. We missed the turn we thought we were going to make and instead ended up at the opposite side of the forest, which might have been okay had we been prepared for the possibility but we weren't bringing the bike guides because, well, the place we were going to bike wasn't where we going. On the way in we passed a guy apparently loading a handgun. I was like, "keep going, keep going!"
So I looked at the map and said, "Here's a trailhead." It was a teensy weensy repro of the Capitol Forest map (you can't buy it from DNR, you have to download a PDF — what good is that if you don't want to bring your laptop to the woods, or unless you have an iPhone or a professional-quality printer? I just don't get it) so I couldn't see very well. So we pulled in to the trailhead and it was packed full of ATV people.
ATV people are paradoxical. They claim to love the outdoors but scrape up the trails with their quads. They also say they love the exercise, but nine out of 10 of them are over thier maximum healthy BMI, and a good portion of those are morbidly obese. Mostly I think they just love burning gas, making loud noises and sitting around on folding chairs cramming potato salad down their yap as the wind blows the party end of their mullets into the huge forkfuls they are lifting over their multiple chins. Why they don't just own up to that, I don't know. I guess many of them are so used to cognitive dissonance that it has become their reality. I will admit to liking the psycho-superhero-animesque ATV protective clothing, however. (if you click the link, it comes from a site that has pics of sexy ladies in bikinis on quads, which strikes me as even more ridiculous than SLIBs on hot rods or motorcycles. I mean, these are quads, people. They are the outdoor machine of the people, and SLIBs are not really outdoorsy types. Maybe beach volleyball, frisbee is pushing it. SLIBs are antithetically opposed to doing something that may cause a nail to break or where they might see an animal. Look, if you don't believe me, watch the living exemplars of bikini ladies on "Flavor of Love" or "Rock of Love." Those ROL girls may think they're metal rednecks, but if they saw a snake they'd flip the heck out.)
So we had half of our sandwiches in this dystopian parking lot in 90-degree heat surrounded by the large ATV people, one of whom had staked out the only picnic table and marked it with a cooler but was not actually using it. ATV people would come in on their quads and tool around the parking lot. Thanks for riding with no helmets! You are helping evolution! (Flaw in plan, most seemed to have abundantly reproduced.)
I am being quite the hater today, aren't I?
So we backtracked to a trailhead for non-motorized uses and rode up the Mima Porter trail. The trail was very uphill for about a mile and there was some hike-and-bike. There were also some god-awful mud puddles that I had to walk my bike through and grunt through. My hiking shoes were like new at the beginning of the day. No longer. So we take this one trail and it's just muddier than heck. So we turn around and I'm in front and Ray says, "Your tire is really flat." No wonder I'm huffing like the Big Bad Wolf. So our epicnicity training was cut short. At the trailhead, I was quite grumpy. I mean really grumpy. Luckily there was a horse there I was able to pet, though she was supersweaty. So I felt a little better. (Another upside: Ray saw the Mima mounds, which he's been curious about. Downside: They aren't spectacular to look at.)
To make up for the lack of bike ride I found a trail that looked modest and flat (I didn't mention my achilles was screaming, did I? I think I wore too-flat flats the day before). But when we go there and started poking around for it all through everyone's camp sites, we learned it was gone. Not before disrupting everyone's day, but...
So Ray and I went to LaVogue's bike shop, where I got a new tube (the thick kind) installed. We rode from Ray's office to the airport and back. Not super far or anything, but it was riding. Then we had to get cleaned up for the Mosaic Brass concert. Looking at the website, I now understand why Ray said he swore the tuba player was Asian. Also, the French Horn guy we saw was younger. I guess Hoquiam scored the B-team. (They were very good). Towards the end of the first half, emo music from the emo place next door started to pour in, and Ray's face just went from composed and pleased to X-treem displeasure. At intermission, he went to ask them to pipe down (shut their door, really). They totally did. The girl who did had a very distracting pierce at the bridge of her nose.
It was a little surprising for Ray, I think, because he has a great discomfort and distrust for all things emo-kid since he saw one air-hump an unaware senior citizen a few days ago, a performance for the benefit of his emo girlfriend. "They were probably drunk," Ray said in a tone of disapproval. "They were probably high on drugs," I replied. The air-humping occured in the vicinity of the 7th Street Theatre, so chances are they were going to the new emo-kid hang out around the corner.
Then, as we were leaving (it took longer for us to get out than everyone else because we had to pack up some chairs Ray borrowed from his church) the guy from LaVogue's came in and was disappointed he'd missed the concert. "Hey," he said. "Have I seen you two before?" Oh, yeah.
The guy from LaVogue's clearly knows his bicycles. But you have to hear him talk to understand why he's such a treasure to the community. There's some surfer in there, but the laid-back kind.
Not much else to say. Epicnicity is taking longer than I expected. I wonder if there are any really good beginner trails anywhere in the state. Preferably dry trails with no mud.
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