This is my psychiatrist's couch. Take from it what you will.
But do leave a note.
I still am a late middle aged former government worker marking time until the cliff.
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Monday, May 21, 2018
Hiking Santa Rosa (Blogophilia 12.11)
I look down at my cellphone. A number I don’t recognize. DECLINE! Turtle, remind me to block the number.
“Yeah. I think I’m about done...Got the two trail loops done I wanted. I’m deciding now if I want to hit the beach for some more shots...what’s that? Can’t get the TV show to work? You’re going to blow our data limits doing that. Besides, it isn’t what we came to the beach for...I should be back in an hour or so...Yeah, I should be all right on water until I get back.
See you in a bit.”
Used to be one could take a walk like this with no interruptions. Now, of course, we have to be tethered to the shepherd 24/7 with our exact locations. It makes me want to breakaway. I can see it now. “Runaway retired sheep lost in the marsh! Couldn’t take the surveillance!”
Gotta remember the new phone goes into the pocket screen out. I’ve already butt-dialed two people this morning. Maybe that belt clip would be a good idea.
These blaze marks could be better. Is this the orange or blue trail? I think the blue one loops back to the main bike trail. I like impulse and Blue looks less traveled. Let’s see if Frost was right.
The scrub land around here looks different than the Atlantic beaches, palmetto, slash pine and no live oaks. I have trees much older in my yard than anything in this “old growth” area. Hmmm...looks like a hurricane went through here recently. Lots of trunks snapped off at the 25 foot level. A ranger in South Carolina told me it’s at that height the trees are weakest.
But it doesn’t look like this area had much salt intrusion. That’s good. And most of the Palmetto looks healthy. Park management has done controlled burns in the last couple of years to keep the dead stuff down. The wildflowers growing in their place are darker than amber.
The dunes...I didn’t think we’d get here.
It looks like the moon out here. I wonder if the moon is this hard to trudge through? That is the thing with beach walks. It looks so soft and pleasant, but the sand has to be dug through. In a lot of ways it’s harder than hill climbing. And no blazing your own trail, either. This sand hills are the only thing keep the ocean from taking over.
Dang, it’s hot out here. Where is the bike path back to camp? Those high rise condos look a lot closer than they should and this map isn’t helping a lot. Ohhh...This trail doesn’t loop at all. Great. It’s backtracking through the dunes time. I was kidding Kathryn last night about Gilligan’s boat and the three hour tour, and now I am Gilligan. Only thing missing is the red striped shirt. Hey, look!
He’s not even the least concerned about me. Cool. I’ll take a break and watch.
Oooh, my legs. And the step counter just announced a new daily record with at least two miles back to camp. I should have brought the bottle of water. I’m going to need some before I get finished. Hey, what’s that sitting on the walkway railing? Somebody left water! Trail magic is real. It’s a little hot, but I don’t care. It will get me back to camp...Gulp.
The bike path, finally.
“Yeah...I know I said an hour...I know It’s been more than two... I should have taken the left turn at Albuquerque, but I’m on the right path back...I’m OK, just hot and sweaty...But I did manage to get every bit of trail...see you in a bit. Love you.”