|The bighorns were out on the sunny side of the river.|
Pondering this, we arrived at Eureka Bar. This is the earliest we have ever attempted this as a day hike (I once backpacked here in January and froze). But stalking the national weather service, we had seen it would be in the fifties down here. Green grass poked hopefully out from the dormant (we hoped) poison ivy. It felt like March, we decided.
Our dreams of lying in the sun on our secret beach were dashed however. Turns out that the angle of the sun in January doesn't even hit the Oregon side of the Snake, at least not on the beach. We hiked to a sunny point and watched the river (and a few jet boats) go by.
It looked cold to be on the river, and we were getting cold too. Daylight was fading; it was time to go. Thus is the conundrum of day hikes. Never enough time.
Eleven miles total hiking later we arrived back at the cars. Two of my friends are seasonals with the Park Service and had unlimited time before they started back up again, in March. They decided to head down to Dug Bar to camp. And the rest of us? Work awaited on Monday, so off we went.
My temporary retirement is over, the longest I have ever not worked since 1988, about 33 days. It's good to be "essential" again (though they are calling it the more PC term of "excepted" this time) but I will miss all the days of unlimited possibility. Just like this reprieve to winter, it was a glimpse into how life could be. We drove back into January, and it's supposed to be cold. We are supposed to work. I guess. Until we come up with something better. Anyone want a bunch of cookies?
|Confluences are magical places.|
If you lived in a bartering society, what could you barter?