on the path…brack toe part 3
Drifting towards the inner ripples of thought source and further from words themselves, I hear,
“Are You Meditating?”
Apparently Tim & our hiking friend were through talking & putting on shoes. Waiting for me to get ready & venture forth.
I say, “not anymore” which made Tim laugh.
Tim is quite the adventurer and before I knew it, we were navigating steeper drop-offs; staying off the hillside trails and sliding down sloping rocks on our butts. I was hoping my shoes were good enough to catch these spots. So far so good. Some kids were playing in a smaller pool. Some people were haveing a picnic. We got to a point where we could climb a rail out of the stream and on to the main trail.
There was a house that some people had built there in 50’s. I was amazed they were able to get the building materials up there. It burned down in 1982. I know this because there was a sign post saying so.
Apparently, Mom Dad, Jack & Jim lived there. I know this becauseone of those cement blocks was mounted where you put your hands and write your name. There were at least two fire places and a wood burning stove, a kitchen area and bathtub left. Transplanted palm trees still growing where the slab ended. It was a mini-Hearst Castle. Ok not a castle but a very nice remnant of a home. I thought about what it must have been like to grow up there, next to a stream on the side of a mountain, so close to the ocean. It seemed idylic.(sp)
We were getting a little more tired now, the conversation about the weather in Hungary, how we all chose to be at Solstice Canyon that day; hiking excursions to the Grand Canyon, and bike riding were tapering off a bit. I was hungry & ready to eat something along the lines of a lobster or steak.
Anything other than another Clif bar.
We were walking downhill, faster now, getting closer to the starting point where cars were parked. We are stopped by an Englishman and his european friends. They want to know if it’s safe to drink the water. We give a unanimous NO. The European recognizes our hiking friend’s accent and they talk about origin and filtered water a few moments.
He thought it was like Perrier.
He learns our hiking friend is Hungarian. He’s shocked, totally thrown off because her mother is Italian.
He acted sad as if he’d lost a bet at one of those State Fair games.
Guess your Birthday
Guess your Gender
&
Guess your Country of Origin
Win this “Felix The Cat-bobble head-snow globe!”
The Englishman comes back to retrieve his friend and says,
“Forgive him he doesn’t like to hike and I’m making him come out here. He just wants to talk to you to get out of going any further.”
As they walk off his friend is still talking; but about his camera.
About this time, the 2 svelte guys pass again. We end up walking 5 or 6 steps behind them. They catch our conversation about what just happened and one turns around to tell his own story about being in Buda-Pest (sp) Hungary. So before we know it, we’ve have made friends with 2 more hikers. The svelte, well travelled, Joe and Pamon.
The conversation swirls way out of my realm to places I haven’t been or seen, or be able to find on a map. I think of the shower curtain I use to have with a big Map of the World on it. I could probably find stuff on there. It’s probably best I threw it away when I moved though, due to cleanliness.
Not too long ago I would try to enter a conversation like this by being humoursly self depricating. Instead I keep these thoughts to myself and choose to listen, get a sense of the vibe, and think about food.
I must be getting older.
We get back to the parking lot and Joe & Pamon make plans to venture down to the beach. I ask if they have a frisbee and they realized that’d be a good idea but didn’t bring one. They grabbed some different stuff from their very shiny Bavarian automobile, and headed off.
So then there is that part of the day when things are winding down and energy and sun dip to a lower energy, a lower amplitude. I find an orange and hope that will be a nice vitamin C jolt.
I love the smell of citrus but it makes my hands and face sticky. I don’t care at this point and devour 1/2 of it in one bite. As a formality, I offer the other mangled sticky 1/2 to my friends, which they refuse to my delight, and I finish the thing in about 10 seconds.
Tim and our hiking friend exchange information for the pictures.
I think she took most of the pictures posted below.
Thanks for checking in.
Stephen A. Thomas