|Night #47. 3 to go to reach the goal.|
But I went, because the pull of inertia has taken too many of my friends. They no longer climb mountains or ride their bikes or do any of the things they used to do. I am starting to see what age can do to people and I don't want to give in.
It's not easy to get to Eureka Bar. The drive is not for the faint-hearted, a slippery, rock-studded one-laner poised over the canyon. Meet a horse trailer and you have to back up for a long way. You'd better hope you're good at it. People have died on this road. It can take an hour to go 18 miles.
The trail itself is simple, winding from one river to another, but it is fringed with poison ivy and blackberry. You push your way through, hoping for the best. And then you make it to the bar, the hills colored blond, the sound of the river filling up the night, the moon glowing over everything. And it was worth it. It always is.