Summer Interlude: Bridge to Nowhere

 She was looking at boots - the last time we were at REI. I said, you oughta git some, yours are pretty old and worn. She considered my words, but then discarded the advice, "eh, mine still have some life in them."

Yeah, anyone care to guess what happens when you don't listen to your husband (for some of you, of course, the words when you don't listen to your wife may be more appropriate)? I will leave it to you to decide which is right. Anyway, this is what happens:

You walk the second half of a ten mile hike with floppy soles. Who's hobbling around the house now? 

You know, I have lived my whole life in southern California, hiked the local mountains time and time again but have never, until now, hiked to the Bridge to Nowhere. Broken boots or not, that was one heck of a slog, and that the summer heat was on didn't help at all. It was beautiful down along the stream, don't get me wrong, all shady beneath those big alders, the water was cool when I stuck my hands in it, it was cool to my feet when we decided to finish the hike salmon style, but the bridge itself? Actually rather anticlimactic, when you get right down to it. But when you have been hiking around this long, you need to be able to say "Bridge to Nowhere? Sure I've been there!"

Know what's not cool? The amount of garbage that has collected along the East Fork. Almost from the moment you turn and cross the bridge from Highway 39 you begin to notice great piles of trash - it is disgusting, it is degrading and disrespectful of all the people who go up there to enjoy a day in the mountains. There are places where it looks like someone had dived into the big bins and shoveled everything out while looking for a wearable pair of shoes, discarded shirt or... something. Other places there are no bins, just big piles of trash. 

Thankfully the trail was another matter, mostly. I noticed only one spot where some flocking ash had left wrappers and crap all around. And speaking of that, I won't even begin to describe the places people decide to leave a deposit. Alright then, enough of that, it was not what this interlude was all about:

trailside

contemplation

almost ripe

ain't geology fascinating?

right out of the rock

Bridge to Nowhere

1936

cooling the paws...

and then the dogs - actually the boots waterproofing did its job at this shallow crossing and kept the dogs dry. A deeper crossing just downriver, though, soaked 'em good.