So. Dead. I did the Marten Mountain hike. Yikes. It took about an hour and half to do the 2.8 km trail. A muddy, rough, steep incline trail that hardly even looked like an official trail for about half the length. (Now my pants are truly done for. And guess what happens to sneakers with a hole that lets sand in when they meet mud?) I considered turning back about six times. Stopped at this bridge to catch my breath and take off my shoes lest my feet burst into flame.
(no blisters though! Bonus) What kept me going forward was the promise of an outhouse on the map. I reached the lake – no frickin’ outhouse! Still, the lake was nice. Not 2.8 km trek nice, but nice.
I just wanted to be done the hike, so my exit was as hasty as I could make it without my heart exploding from my chest. I had to stop considerably more often on the way out, but I made it. I’m glad I did the hike, but I would never do it again “for fun”. It was like when we were kids and I’d let my sister haul me onto the rollercoasters she wanted company riding. I was scared out of my pants the whole time, but at least when I walked away I could say I had done it.
First thing I did when I got back to the guesthouse was throw on my bathing suit and go stand in the cold lake. Ahhh. That’s what my feet wanted.
When I came in for dinner, I considered going to a movie. Well, the movie. Slave Lake has only one theatre, and it shows only one movie. But first I checked out what movies were on the movie channel on the tv tonight. Over the Hedge. We Own the Night. No Country for Old Men. Alright! I’m staying in!
p.s. No Country for Old Men sucked. Maybe I was just tired. But it ended, and I couldn't tell you what was the point.