Hike One

So, it was a warm, sunny-ish day, and I went on a hike, for the first time this year.  I wasn't planning on it--I was wearing the wrong pants and the wrong shoes--but I felt like I ought to.  For various boring and emotional reasons.

I drove way up north, passing four different potential hiking trails, to get to the one I first hit during the pandemic (it was closed halfway up due to the winter the first time, and closed due to the COVID pandemic every time afterward).  The last time I'd gone, I lost all cell service a mile or so before reaching the path, but they seem to have put up a new tower, because I still had during my walk.

It's still officially closed for the season, with signs that said the bathrooms and drinking fountains at the base weren't accessible, but I found both of them working, so we must be days or hours before reopening for the summer (the urinal didn't flush, though, I found out only after using it.  Sorry).

Everything is green, the sky is blue, and though I saw no animals, something moved through the brush higher up on the trail from me, and left only a waving branch when I tried to get a look.  I assume it was a jackalope.

I thought I was the only person hiking the trail, but as I got up to the most photogenic part of the climb, I saw an older couple coming down the trail toward me.  And I had to push them off, Your Honor, you understand.

I went up another quarter mile or so, all familiar terrain, even though I think I only ever went there in 2020 (maybe a single time the next year), and suddenly, I could go no further.

The trail was covered by a strange landslide of snow, effectively ending any further progress (unless you wanted to risk going over the hill of ice).  I took a couple of pictures of it, but nothing quite captured how impressive it was.*

In front of the pile was a sign that read "TRAIL ENDS - DO NOT CROSS."  But I didn't need that sign (shoulda taken a picture of it, though).  All the way up the hill was one long snowy portion, with no snow anywhere else.  

So, I had no choice but to turn around and go back down the hill.  No big deal, but I remember literally running down the hill in the past, and I'm glad I didn't, because there were a couple of places where the hiking trail was cracked, from either landslides or tree roots pushing up the concrete (or possibly the Great Old Ones trying to emerge from whence they slumber), and I'd have gone sprawling.

I got to my car and drove home, aware that this might be the last time I ever go there.  Hmm.

*And I was glad that the old couple had seen something so majestic right before their unfortunate fall(s).