The Revenge of Bear Mountain

Over Memorial Day weekend, I had nothing planned other than to do something. I wasn't working (which was a nice change of pace), but I wanted to do more than sit around the apartment. The activity I settled on was hiking Bear Mountain again. I had hiked it once last fall, and then again in the spring with Duncan. It makes for one of the prettiest views I've ever seen, and I wanted to check it out when all the trees were green, since I hadn't given myself that opportunity yet. But things were a little different this time.

The park was charging $8 to park in their lot. For some reason, I thought this was an unspeakable offense. Charge money to park at a public park? OUTRAGEOUS! So I took the most logical course of action I could imagine: find the parking lot at the top of the mountain, park for free, hike down, and then hike back up.

Hiking up a mountain and then trotting back down the mountain is much easier than hiking down a mountain and then trying to crawl back up. There's probably a life lesson in there. Something very deep. Profound. Probably.

It should be said that I've never hiked this mountain when it's 80+ degrees outside, too. In the past it's always been a bit chilly. And open. I have never seen so many people at this park before.

Walking down the mountain was pretty uneventful. The one good thing I noticed was that many female hikers don't wear bras. So I witnessed a lot of bouncing boob action. Thinking back now, I wonder if I would have witnessed this if I hadn't given half of my water to some thirsty hikers that had ran out. My water-karma *probably* is the cause for the mountain jugs. ((Note to self: I should hand out water more often.))

On the way back up the mountain, though, I ran into some problems. Right from the get-go, I hiked past a family with little children that were very slow. So I passed them. I didn't just pass them. I was taking steps two at a time, ROCKETING up a mountain past these people. Then I found myself behind another family, also with children, but this time the children were boys with walking sticks. Not noticing me behind them, the boys were flinging sticks and waving them like baseball bats or magic wands (take your pick). Both boys almost swung their baseball bats/wands in my face before I decided to run past them, too.

In hindsight, passing hikers on a mountain is very different from passing people on the interstate. On the interstate, there aren't really any immediate repercussions for hitting the gas pedal and zooming beyond the slow assholes that are driving in the left-hand lane. On a mountain, however, and without the benefit of a motor, zooming beyond slow assholes does have its consequences.

The Asian family and I kept taking turns on our way up the mountain. I hiked past the Asians early in the trip. Then, about a quarter of the way up I thought that my brain was about to shit dynamite and I couldn't catch my breath, so I stopped to take a breather. The Asians passed me. I regained my composure, hiked some more, and hiked past the breaking Asians. Then I realized I'd been gritting my teeth and my eyes wouldn't stop twitching. In fact, I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. At this point I think my brain merely sharted dynamite. Nothing too serious. My feet felt like gallon buckets filled with concrete. So I took another breather. Then the Asians passed me again.

During the course of these "blood pressure relief breaks" I contemplated the mistakes and hardships I have committed against my body. The booze. The cigarettes. The days I have moved less than 20 yards from morning to night. The fried breakfast I had (bacon, eggs, and tomato). The lack of exercise. The scars from wrestling, falling, and making trees. The disregard I give to stretching.

The Asians and I played this back-and-forth game of resting (they rested just as often as I did....sneaky Asians) and then hiking ahead of each other, but you'll be proud to know that I beat them to the top of the mountain. Through the struggles I had two thoughts that kept me motivated. First, I kept thinking that somewhere on my way home there would be a store that had a cooler, and in that cooler was a 30 pack of Miller High Life, and nothing was going to come between me and the Miller High Life. The second thought was more of a realization, really. I realized that whenever I stopped there was a swarm of hungry, biting gnats that would attack me until I hiked away again. So between beer and my instinct to not get bitten by bugs, I trudged up to my car and drove off.

I feel like a million bucks now. I'm also a little light-headed. I suppose it could be the beer. It could also be the little red bumps of poison the gnats left in my arms and legs. But I'm not one to split hairs. I descended and ascended the mountain, and that was one of my two goals for the weekend. That and install my air conditioners. Both are complete now. Now I can drink beer, smoke cigarettes, eat like a pig, and not move, or exert any effort for another 36 hours.