Now for something truly scary:
|It's easier to commit to the John Muir Trail!|
In my brief first marriage (still feels kind of weird to write that) my husband preferred to hike only as a means of killing something. He wouldn't bike in the rain, wasn't a backpacking fan, and the kayak I got him hung unused on the house. In another relationship my BF thought the relationship was doomed because we "didn't talk" when we hiked. It is really hard to find that balance--someone who likes some of the same things but not all. I don't want someone stuck like glue. J likes to backcountry ski. I don't. I like to trail run. He doesn't. It works out.
Three weeks, folks. We are wavering between a spot by the (flooding) Hurricane Creek or a (trespassing) tramp to the moraine behind J's house. It's simple, the way it should be.
Yes, I wish I had found him when I was younger. I wish I could erase all the dumb mistakes I made, all the people I thought would be my outdoor companions and who sadly proved not to be. But I can't. I had to learn some things first. It's like the hike I took today up Falls Creek. Somewhere way up there is Legore Lake, the highest lake in Oregon. This is what I saw: