Love is...

Yesterday morning after we slept in a bit, had our cups of coffee, and checked the weather, we decided to go and finally take Pat's supply barrel to bear camp.  The forecast predicted a 30% chance of rain instead of a 60% chance that was for the rest of the week.

I didn't even ask if I should go with him.  I just began to get food together and supplies readied with Pat for this excursion.  He never suggested that I stay home on this one.  We got the dogs ready as well as they were clearly excited about the activity.  I was actually dreading it.

As we drove to the mountains, I was hoping to see the looming clouds dissipate.  I was not so fortunate.  It wasn't raining, though, so I was beginning to trust the weather forecast, even if it really meant that only 30% of the day would be rainy.  We pulled up to the farthest place one can park on this trek and began to unload and ready our gear.  Our ultimate rickshaw that Pat had made a couple years prior for some little kiddo's had been stashed in the trees back in May when we'd last been here.  Well, it wasn't here any longer.  It seems the fabulous invention had been seen and the value appreciated by someone else enough that they had to have it.  We trekked on without it, but knowing it would be replaced someday by a fancier, tougher, stronger, better, and probably locked up version!

When I go out on an excursion of this sort without having prepared myself physically, I typically hit a "wall" of sorts.  This is when I begin to feel every blood cell pushing through my veins and my previously lethargic muscles begin to question my mental authority.  In this state of unpreparedness, this wall comes quickly and seems to last longer than when I am in shape.  This was the case yesterday.  It didn't help that I noticed all the dampness on the foliage and the heavy, thick fog right where we planned on going.  Super.  Those of you who know me from childhood will likely know the kind of temperament I was in and lack of enthusiasm I was portraying.

We reached our 2-mile point where the gravel road goes to a horse trail.  Here we stashed some dry clothes and shoes.  Unfortunately, one of my spare insoles (I wear orthodics) didn't get into the bag from the car.  Ahem.  This discovery made me even more excited to continue!  We chose to dress in our rain pants at this time, sure that the moisture levels would be 100% in the overgrown trail.  It wasn't 10 minutes into the horse trail that I stepped in over my shoes into a muddy puddle.  About 5 minutes later, my other foot felt jealous and repeated the act.  Strangely, it was about this time when I worked past the wall and was feeling much better, aside from the sloshing feet.  We were hiking through shoulder-high grass, overgrown willow and alder, and spruce trees that all amazed us at how immense their water-holding capacities were.  Who knew a blade of grass could hold 5 gallons of water?  Truly incredible.  And we got to experience it first-hand.  Perhaps you, too, may have an opportunity to behold such wonders!  We don't want to go with you.

After a few hours, we finally reached the hidden location of the supply barrel.  Things looked vastly different than when we were there two months ago when snow covered much of the landscape.  We had both begun to question the probability of finding the barrel, when we realized our correct location.  Now the light backpack Pat had been carrying was transferred to my back (after we consumed much of what was inside), and Pat donned the frame-pack with the 30 gallon barrel with a few supplies inside.  It was now raining lightly and we put on our rain jackets as well.  The rain pants were keeping us remarkably dry and that was something of which I was trying to continually remind myself.  We were almost to the lake, and we just couldn't turn back, despite the deteriorating weather conditions.  Oh, and this is why there are no pictures.  We decided to leave the camera in the car and save some weight as the conditions were slim that our non-water-proof camera would ever come out of the case.

By the time we reached the lake, I had determined to stay near there with a dog or two while Pat took the barrel up the last mile or so to camp.  The last stretch goes through hemlocks parallel to the lake and then straight up the mountain.  Even Pat had suggested that he build me a fire and go on without me.  My muscles were beginning to get louder in their protests.  Upon looking at the lake area, it seemed best to me to go on to the hemlocks as it was raining and the idea of sitting out by the lake was rather dreary.  I continued on without a word into the trees.  Once we got to the area where we are required to traverse up the side of the mountain, I re-determined to just go up into the next set of hemlocks where I could possibly rest there and wait.  For some undetermined reason, I never stopped.  Pat never brought up the fire he was going to make me, and I continued up the mountain with him.  It dawned on me that with a 30 gallon barrel strapped to him, it makes us fairly equal in physical strength!

Little by little we reached the top and found bear camp.  We hadn't seen camp for almost a year, so we were pleasantly surprised that it was all intact and untouched.  We promptly stashed the barrel under the tarp, looked around in the fogged-in views, and headed back down!  I'd say we made great time on our decent, but Pat got a hold of the loppers and proceeded to clear the trail as we trod in the mud and rain.  What could I say?  If I was ever coming back to this hellish place, which was increasingly unlikely, I would appreciate the lack of overgrowth in the trail.  The rain gear was working pretty well, my feet were long ago pruned, so what would a few more minutes do?

We came back to the stashed clothes bag, but since it was still raining, we stopped just long enough for Pat to change his shoes (Ahem) and continued on.  I have only had a couple other instances where I was more happy to see the car than this day.  We quickly stripped down and put on our dry fleece clothes and cranked the heater for our drive home.  I was sure that my muscles were going to go on strike at any moment.

One of my mental activities that kept me from throwing myself off a cliff (had there been one) was to rehearse what I might write for this exact moment.  In an effort to retain some humor, I found I was more likely to have a positive mental attitude.  This is really all that Pat asks of me.  He certainly acknowledges hardships, and always has more sympathy if I'm not pouting.  I kept asking myself why I came on this trip, and why I didn't stop where we'd planned, and all I came up with was: "This is so stupid!"  The reason is simply this: Pat had been gone 3 weeks, home a day, and I didn't want to be without him.  Apparently anywhere.  This is what love can do to a person's mental capacity.  Pat thoroughly laughed when I told him my conclusion:

Love is not blind; just stupid!