Sunday, December 1, 2019

Ciao!


Warning: This post contains brief, Renaissance nudity.

Hey! It's been a minute. I hit a bit of a roadblock with this blog a few months ago because I didn't know what to write about. There are a lot of contributing factors to the lack of motivation, but in the center of it was the feeling that since I'm not traveling for the foreseeable future, I don't really have any interesting stories to tell. There's the tangled mess of questions marks regarding my health, job, and future in general, but that's kind of drag to think about too much. Things aren't terrible. Just not as interesting as life on the road.

Recently, I remembered that I chose the name of this blog, Dynamic DJR, over my second choice, Wandering Rice, because I wanted the freedom to write about more than just traveling. With that, I think it's time to give this another shot.

At some point I'll write an update on my health and job stuff, but for now I want to tell the story of David, my favorite refrigerator magnet.

*   *   *   *   *

Backstory: A few years ago, a close friend visited Tuscany and brought me back a magnet depicting Michelanglo's David.

Image result for michelangelo david
https://www.michelangelo.org/david.jsp

Only it's a close up...

Image result for michelangelo david
http://www.accademia.org/explore-museum/artworks/michelangelos-david/

No, not of his face...

michelangelo-david-close-up-photos-14
https://www.boredpanda.com/michelangelo-david-close-up-photos/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=organic&utm_campaign=organic

Nor of his hand.

It's of a different kind of appendage altogether...



On to the current tale!

The Sunday before Thanksgiving, my sister-in-law drove up with my niece and nephew to visit for a couple of days. Within moments of their arrival, I walked into the kitchen to find my niece, age 5, holding the magnet in question and staring this:


Me: "Ah! You found my magnets."

Niece: "Who's this? He's cute!"

Me: "Oh, that's David."

My nephew, days away from his 11th birthday, joins the conversation and looks over his sister shoulder.

Nephew: "Cool! Is that a sheep?"

Me: "Sure looks like it could be a sheep."

I have a lot of magnets on my refrigerator. Why she picked the only one that is even remotely questionable is beyond me. Is it because it was by itself in the upper corner? Did her animal-loving personality reject the landscape pictures and quirky sayings in favor of this "sheep'? All I know is normally I get great enjoyment out of watching people's reaction when they realize what David is. This time I felt like I was in danger of becoming their creepy aunt.

Did I ruin this innocence?!?!

Being very hands-on kids, every time they came into the kitchen, the magnets on the refrigerator got rearranged into different shapes and patterns. They asked a lot of questions about the various pictures, and David the Sheep was a recurring favorite.

One of their creations

My favorite thing about this systematic arrangement is
that the magnet all by itself in the lower, left corner reads,
"Why Be Normal?

My sister-in-law and I got a great amount of enjoyment out of their innocent imaginations. The funniest was them speculating on how David must be very strong because his shoulders are so huge. This involved a prolonged attempt by my nephew to scrunch his shoulder's up high enough to make his head look small.

We also look forward to laughing at them heartily once they finally recognize David for who he really is!


This is my nephew. Here he isn't imitating David the Sheep, but rather
he's proudly showing off that he put his pj's on backwards. 

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

Dorothy in Kansas






Yep, there she is!


*

*

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This concludes the three part series from my road trip in early June. (c:

(Picture taken at the beautiful Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve)


Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Dunes! (and Other Random Reminders of My Brother)


Part 2 of 3 from my road trip to Colorado in early June. I find that I do not like spending lots of hour on my computer daily. Since I've been needing to do a lot of other tasks, such as job searches and online tutoring, I am behind on finishing this.


My brother is awesome. My sister is, too, but this post is about him. When we were kids, he was is the Boy Scouts and did waaay more camping than I ever did. As I began doing more backpacking and taking longer trips, he was super helpful. Before I hit the road last summer, he taught me how to throw bear bags. He's also a great sounding board as I'm going through all I need to do to be prepared. Or when I feel compelled to mock the stupidity of the people I encounter. Between the shared enjoyment of the outdoors and a similar temperament, I see reminders of him everywhere. This was especially true my last few days in Colorado.

Grimy hair and a happy smile at 15,000 feet
(Some day I will learn to adjust my waistband and minimize my muffin top before photos!)

After leaving Black Canyon of the Gunnison, I took scenic route to the town of Creede, an old silver mining town recommended by a friend. Tucked in between mountains, it is a great place to explore.

Downtown Creede and a very good boy waiting for his owner to finish shopping.
A cliff-side gardener
(She noticed me taking pictures and laughed, saying "I was bent over pulling weeds!
I assured her I waited until she was standing.)

The stream was fast and furious with snow melt.
The juxtaposition of the steep mountains and fast water
were difficult for my dizzy brain.

I could say a lot more about my experience there than there is space in this blog post. The important thing is that in among the fly-fishing stores and tasty restaurants, the was an olive oil shop. My brother loves olive oil shops. I think seeing the Creede Olive Oil Co was the moment I wished my brother was on this trip, too.

I took this photo expressly for my brother
Later that afternoon, I decided to go on a hike in the surrounding mountains. Choosing a 2.7 mile high-altitude hike, I arrived at the trailhead to learn that it was actually 7.2 miles one way. Blaming vertigo-induced idiocy for the mistake, I decided to forgo the hike all together. It was already after 5 and 14.4 miles round trip is a lot longer than 2.7. Besides, my judgement clearly wasn't at its sharpest.

View of the Rio Grande from the road down from the trailhead

Laughing at myself on the drive down, I could totally hear my brother say, "Dork!" Yeah, he's really supportive like that.

The Friends examining splintered deer bones.
My brother recommended Nick Fury for his son.

The next day, after a night of healthy sleep, I continued east and to Great Sand Dunes National Park. Earlier in my planning, I didn't think I would go. I'd been there three times before. There are other things to see and explore. However, as I was working out my route, I felt them calling me. I really like that place and wanted to see them again. Besides, the last time I went I was at the edge of seventeen. (Okay, I was fully seventeen, but you get what I was going for).

It was a weird feeling driving up to the dunes and seeing how familiar they looked. There is strange dichotomy with sand dunes, because they are always changing, but their general layout stays the same. It added a little nostalgia to my usual reflections.

Being early June, and after a very snowy winter, the seasonal Medano Creek was quite wide and rapid. When I was four, and again when I was seventeen, we were lucky enough to see the creek in late summer. It was a lot warmer and smaller, since it's usually dried up by then. I imagine, given the wetness of 2019, the creek stuck around this summer, too.

The seasonal, snow-melt creek was full of visitors and brisk water.

While I enjoyed squishing my way through the chilly, sandy water, I did not enjoy the crowds right at the entrance. I opted to head upstream towards the mountains. The (slight) remoteness appealed to me.

Heading up and away from the crowds

Loving that the temperature was perfect for walking barefoot, I was reminded of the time in 2002 I went to Bruneau Dunes in Idaho with my brother. That was a great day. The biggest highlight was following badger tracks for a really long time chanting "badger badger badger badger". This was years before either of knew the Badger Song existed. We never did find the badger, which is probably just as well.

Imagine thunder rumbling in the back ground

Laughing at badger-related memories, I realized that this was my first visit to sand dunes without my brother. (Correction: mountain or desert sand dunes. My brother wasn't with me when I went to Sleeping Bear Dunes in Michigan last summer. Being along a lake and covered in patches of grass, they had a different feel).

As one of daily pop-up thunderstorms approached, I wished my brother was here this time, too, so he could help me decide if it was safe to stay out.

Sand Dune Picnic 2019
Because of the high winds and approaching storm, this was more rushed than
our 2018 picnic at Sleeping Bear Dunes.

My first instinct was to to keep going. By this point, the wind picked up by so much the sand was being whipped around and stung as it hit me. Continuing toward the mountains meant it would be hitting me in the face. Considering a number of factors, including my recent bout with vertigo and a deep-seated desire not to be a complete dumb ass, I decided to head back. As soon as I turned around, there was a huge clap of of thunder and rain started, the drops stinging more that the sand. I laughed as I held onto my visor. The whole situation was really quite fun. I sang to myself as I trekked. It wasn't exactly the them from Lawrence of Arabia, but it was definitely just as epic (advance to 1:55).





Since these storms are brief but mighty, it was over by the time I reached the creek again. I took my time, playing in the surges that occur as the water builds small dams then bursts through them.

Surging water





A little disappointed I'd turned back, I decided to try my hand at reaching the top of Star Dune, the tallest in the park. This was a precarious decision. I knew the climb was within my normal physical abilities. But with the vertigo and the delay in feeling crummy after over-doing it, there was a risk.

Screw the vertigo. I was here and feeling good. I was tired of feeling restricted.

On my way up, I passed several features that look familiar. This was a section of the dunes we had climbed on previous visits. This time was a lot more pleasant because it wasn't anywhere near as hot. The sand was cool, not scalding. The frequent rains made it more compact and the hills easier to climb. In fact, on previous visits, the sun was so hot and the sand so loose, we didn't make it to the top.


The upper ridge leading to Star Dune
I felt better about my overall condition seeing how winded many of the other folks were.

At the top of Star Dune - so worth it!

The funny thing about the sand dunes reminding me so much of my brother is that while I'd been there with him three times, I really didn't spend a lot of time with him. Our first visit was when I was four and he was two. So of course we were together, but clearly, as a preschooler, I was too sophisticated to care what a mere toddler was up to. On our second visit, when I was ten and he was eight, it was probably a similar situation. I was also likely preoccupied with how our little sister, then four, was getting along. Our final visit as a family, the one when I was seventeen, I remember clearly sticking with my sister and both of us being seriously annoyed at our brother for running off without us.

With that memory of annoyance in the back of my mind as I walked back down, it was with great joy that I passed a familiar-looking basin. Twenty-three years earlier, in an effort to show off, my brother had accidentally tumbled down its sides to the bottom. I laughed out loud as I recalled his goofy foolishness. I don't remember what he was trying to do - good chance some cute girls were nearby - but that hardly matters.

Windblown and back at the car, I was glad I came. Even though he wasn't there, it was nice spending time with my brother. He's a good guy.

Wind and rain and sand give quite the beauty treatment.

And with that, my time in the mountains of Colorado came to an end. (c:


Edit - Here's picture of my brother and I when we were around the ages of our first trip to Colorado and the sand dunes:

Serious about cereal



Wednesday, July 3, 2019

Vertigo Limit


This post is the first of three about a road trip I took the first week in June. It is now a little out-dated after the events of mid-June (see Well, Crap...). However, I decided to leave it as I was originally writing it. Think of it as a flashback. (c:

*    *    *    *    *

May was a stressful month. I wrote in my last post about my frustrations with my job and a few other things. It's straight up disappointing to think a difficult season will be resolved, only to find it still lingering and its complexity increasing. I knew I would be fine. I knew that even if my plans are ruined, I am not ruin. Things will come together into one shape or another. Hang in there.

Despite knowing better, the toxic doubts and questions continued, and my attitude festered. I even wonder if part of the reason I was so stressed was because, after 10 years of teaching, that's just how my body responds to May. But whatever the root cause, I was not in a good head space.

So, I drove to Colorado.

This was a quasi-spontaneous move. Quasi because I'd decided a couple weeks before that I just needed to go. Spontaneous because I made no real plans and decided my departure date only a day or two before. Too much was - and is - up in the air to coordinate anything extensive.

Since this was a quick trip, I had much less stuff with me.
The extra space seemed to make everything seem messier somehow.

Spending my first night near the Kansas/Colorado border, I woke early, ready for the mountains! I intended to meander my way to Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, in the southwest portion of the state. I wasn't sure if I'd get there that night or the next day, but it didn't matter. That, after all, is part of the fun!

Reaching the eastern suburbs of Colorado Springs, I was suddenly overwhelmed with an all-to-familiar feeling of disorientation. Grateful to be in a town, I pulled over at a Safeway and went inside to sit in their cafe. It was the first real attack of vertigo I'd had in ages and I was frustrated.

To back up a little, I know that I have mentioned having vertigo in previous posts, but I don't believe I ever described what it's like. For me, it's not an inner ear problem, so I don't struggle with feeling wobbly or off-balance. My vertigo is the result of a miscommunication between my eyes and my brain. The seizure scrambled the circuits somehow, so some types of visual information are hard to process and leave me feeling disoriented or dizzy. When it was at it's worse, I got double vision and felt crummy for days. Now my only persistent symptom is fatigue. It makes me sooo tired.

Between physical therapy and the healing passage of time, dizziness isn't much of an issue any more. However, I do have to be mindful of certain triggers. For example, looking at a fixed point while other things are moving nearby. This includes reading text online while a video plays on another part of the screen. It also includes, as I realized that day in Colorado, staring ahead at the distant horizon while the prairie speeds past the sides of your car.


Fortunately, the worst of the dizziness passed quickly. I still felt groggy, but experience told me that wasn't going away any time soon. I stopped again about an hour later in one of the western suburbs of Colorado Springs and started working out a firmer plan for the next couple days. Finally in the mountains - yay! - the inherent variety of the winding roads seemed to be less of a vertigo trigger, but I was still wary. Once the dizziness starts, it doesn't take much to keep it going.

Deciding I was good to go, my next stop was the Florissant Fossil Beds. It was a good stretch of the legs.



A big petrified redwood stump officially named The Big Stump.

That afternoon, I wove my way through the mountains, pausing briefly in Buena Vista and Gunnison. Part of me wanted to stay longer in these towns, but ultimately I decided to continue. I felt much better than earlier, but anticipating the fatigue that always follows, I wanted to get the driving done and treat myself to a day off.

Outside of Gunnison, the mountains opened up, the road following the Gunnison River and the Curecanti National Recreation Area. There were lots of pretty overlooks and a clear view of the expected afternoon storm cells as they formed.

Storm's a brewin' over the Gunnison River

I arrived at Black Canyon about an hour and a half before sunset. I'd chosen to go to the north rim, the more remote and less-visited section of the park. Always helpful, the park ranger (whom I met when he came out of the bushes carrying a high-tech bow and at least six arrows) told me I was there at good time to check out the Chasm View.

Taking his suggestion, I cheerfully made my way down the short path. Suddenly, the trees opened up revealing a spectacular view! I quite seriously almost fell over upon seeing the canyon. For the first time I understood why vertigo is also the term for a fear of heights.

I'm not a fearless daredevil, but I've never really had a problem with heights. This really caught me off guard. Resisting the urge to just lay on the ground, I realized it was less the height, and more the optical illusion of it all. Reminding myself anything that makes me dizzy can become physical therapy, I made myself look, for maybe ten seconds at a time.

I soon calmed down enough to take pictures, but I wasn't exactly relaxed. Holding my phone in a trembling, two-handed death grip, I am amazed that the camera was able to focus.


Main overlook on the North Rim.
Painted Wall is located just below the sunset.

Same location, looking east.

After a refreshing night's sleep, the next morning, I hiked to Exclamation Point and the summit of Green Mountain. It was lovely and at a good level of difficulty for my return to mountain hiking. Neither too strenuous nor too easy. It was good to be out.


Explorations at Exclamation Point
Exclamation Point!!
(Once, in my mid-twenties, I spent an evening trying to find out the female equivalent
 of the phrase "phallic symbol". I learned a lot that night, but not the answer to my question.
 Today, "phallic female equivalent word" autofills in Google and immediately
 reveals the answer as "yonic". Mystery solved)




From the top of Green Mountain


Looking south from Green Mountain

Returning to the trail head, I felt good. Ready for more. After a bit to eat and a little rest, I was game to explore more. But as I sat, the fatigue hit. Although I didn't feel dizzy at any point in the hike, I had apparently reached my limit. So, instead of exploring another trail, I decided to take a nap, then check out the overlooks along the north rim road.


A determined little tree along the North Rim

My plan worked well, the views were all gorgeous and captivating, but by the time I reached the western end of the road, I was done. I just wanted someplace to sit and do nothing else. Unfortunately, there weren't any picnic tables around, and it was still a little too early to go to my campsite for the night. I ended up parking along the road and taking another nap in my car. Eventually, enough time passed, I made my way to my campsite for the night.

After enjoying a tasty white bean soup for dinner, I fell asleep quickly. It was about an hour until sunset, but I did not care. My vertigo-induced fatigue is very similar to jet-lag. I'll be sleepy but going along fine until suddenly there's no possible way to stay awake any longer. Sleep always wins.

Sagebrush and wildflowers
About an hour later, I awoke to the sound of birds singing in the twilight. I also heard a few of them scratching around on my car. I lifted my head to see what they were up to, but the sound stopped. Thinking nothing of it, I lay back down. A few minutes later, the scratching returned. This time it seemed to be coming from underneath my car, like maybe some burrowing critter was scrabbling around under there.

With images of mischievous birds and rodents in my head, I was quickly dozing off again. Suddenly, I sat bolt upright. Something had run across my head!

Heart racing, I grabbed my book and headlamp to read until I calmed down. Given my hypnagogic state at the time of the incident, I was convinced it was all in my imagination. Nevertheless, the adrenaline rush was 100% and sleep would not be returning quickly.

As I made my way through the pages of P.G. Wodehouse, the scrabbling sound returned, only now it sounded like it was coming from next to me. I looked over, and there was a mouse! It's ears and whiskers were clearly silhouetted by the last traces of sunlight. Beyond being startled at this point, we stared at each other a moment, then it dove down into my belongings and I went to open the car door.

I quickly checked and secured the items I believed to be most tempting to a mouse and was relieved to find no damage. In my search, I saw its tan little body two more times before it disappeared up under the dashboard. Realizing I had zero chance of chasing it out of my car that night, I honked my horn in an attempt to scare it and went to bed. It'd been at least 20 minutes since I'd been startled awake and the adrenaline effect was gone.

I didn't hear or see the mouse again that night or in the morning. Fairly confident it had gained access by crawling up from underneath, I parked my car in sunny places in a effort to make the mouse uncomfortable enough to leave, if it hadn't already. This seemed to have worked. I never heard or saw (or smelled!) anything else from it again.

(Epilogue: When I returned to Columbia and was cleaning out my car, I found the beginnings of a mouse nest when I put the seats back to upright. It really was right under me!)


From the South Rim

The day after the mouse-capade, I drove around to the South Rim of the canyon. It was, of course, gorgeous and spectacular. I preferred the solitude of the North Rim, however. The South Rim is the more accessible side, meaning it had a lot more visitors and tourists. There are advantages to not being completely antisocial. The most notably on this trip was that I ran into Jon Mesh, a friend from college! I felt bad because our shouts of recognition messed up his son, who was busy counting steps at the time. A small price to pay for a fun surprise.

That afternoon, I treated myself to a paid campsite so that I could have access to a picnic table. Still exhausted from the previous couple days, I took a long nap under a tree. I even saw a raptor bird that I hesitantly identified as a falcon.

I would have loved to have taken one of the routes down into the inner canyon, but given how tired just being there made me, it was easily the right choice not to go. Maybe if I'd had a reliable companion, but definitely not as things stood. So, after another night of nearly comatose sleep, I packed up and pointed my car east.

More about that leg of my trip soon!

Wednesday, June 26, 2019

Well, Crap...



I've been taking my time working on a couple light-hearted entries about the brief road trip I took to Colorado the first week of June. Those are still coming, but in my slowness, some events happened that changed the scope of my reflections.

Namely, I had another seizure.

(If you're reading this and thinking, "Wait! What? Another seizure?" see my post Seized by Opportunities.)

It happened a week ago Tuesday, seven months after the last one, and exactly a month after I was officially given the All Clear. The irony is not wasted on me.

It was a beautiful day and I was out on a run. Nearing then end of a loop around Stephens Lake Park, I suddenly felt very nauseous. Convinced the stomach bug I'd had the week before was making a return, I slowed to a walk and focused on all my thoughts on not throwing up and just getting home. I remember staring at the restrooms in the distance.

The next thing I know, I'm coming to in the ER. A nurse was bandaging my left hand and I was trying to stop her. She was very patient in preventing my efforts. Hospital staff told me they suspected I had another seizure and that my parents were on their way. Confused, I wanted to know how the hospital knew my parents. I also didn't understand how they even knew who I was.

As I understand it now, an older gentleman found me lying unconscious and called 911. He also stopped a park employee who was passing by. The park employee accessed the In Case of Emergency list on my cell phone, calling first my sister, who was unable to answer, but found success with the fabulous Olga. She then took charge of contacting my parents and everyone else. Additionally, an off-duty EMT noticed the action and came to the scene. He was the first to suggest that I'd had a seizure.

I, of course, have no memory of any of this, and acknowledge that I still don't have it 100% straight.

Thanks to my phone's fitness app, I was able to figure
 out the seizure happened around 3:45.
(I'd been running intervals).

Later, at the hospital, I eventually because coherent enough to grasp the situation. My right arm had several scrapes from the fall, and I had bruise on my hip. I could tell my the pilling on my running pants that they'd prevented my legs from getting tore up. By some miracle I managed to avoid hitting my head. I suspect my Buff headband played a role in that.

I was soon admitted to a room and my parents arrived moments later. They told me the story of how they found out, and I slowly started to understand how the chain of communication took place. (I really had a hard time with this). Assured that I was in good hands, and equipped with a list of things to retrieve from my house, they left for their hotel.

After an uneventful night, I got a text from my mom saying that my roommate was still home. The previous evening, when I'd texted her to tell her my folks would be stopping by, she'd said that she would gone by 9 am. This did not happen. Apparently sleeping in, she didn't respond to my parents' knocks or shouts or any of my texts. The result was my parents having the awkward experience of sneaking into the occupied home of a person they'd never met. She was oblivious to all of this. My parents hope they never repeat the discomfort of that situation. It also triggered their most noble Mama and Papa Bear responses. I respect them for resisting the urge to move me out of that house immediately.

While they were having that adventure, I was taken for an EEG. The results again confirmed that I don't have epilepsy or other type of seizure disorder. This neurologist showed a lot more enthusiasm in considering  possible causes than my previous one. Since I'd been running on both occasions, he suggested considering problems with electrolytes and other issues. With this idea in mind, I was given a fancy heart monitor to wear for the next 30 days and discharged.

Looking hospital-fabulous with post-EEG hair.

So, where does that leave me?

The short answer is I'm still figuring that out. Goal number one is to get more stable. Stable income, stable living situation, and stable health. I was already actively seeking steadier work, but the majority of my submitted applications were for jobs that are >80% travel. Losing driving privileges again eliminates me from pretty much all of those. I am finding some good alternatives, most of which will allow me to continue doing the occasional project HMH. My biggest problem is that my post-seizure brain jumble is making cover letters and the like extra difficult.

Also, I will be moving out of my current situation by the end of July. I'll either be getting an apartment here in Columbia, going back to St. Louis, or stay some place near my parents. It all depends upon what kind of doctoring I end up needing and what kind of job I find.

As for health, some wise and insightful friends have given good suggestions on things to consider and look into. I feel better equipped to ask better questions.

That's pretty much it. Overall, I'm sadder and angrier this time around. The first seizure had a novelty to it. This time it's more, "wow...this is my life now..."

Still, I am very lucky. If I can survive the heart monitor startling me out of sleep every other night because I knocked an electrode loose, I'll be alright.



Monday, June 10, 2019

Nick Fury Learns a Lesson

After returning to Arkansas and Missouri, a few additions were made to the group of Friends traveling with me. The first is Zecora. She is on a quest to find her lost My Little Pony Sister, who disappeared on the first leg of our journey.

Zecora: A Pony with a quest

The second is Prince Eric on his mighty steed. He joined because Giraffe was hesitant about continuing. He is a steadying presence for the whole group.

The whole crew!
Clockwise from lower left:
Pikachu, Nick Fury, Giraffe, Prince Eric, Bulldozer, Zecora (center)
Not long after hitting the road, we started noticing a change in Nick Fury. He was quieter; less taunting and argumentative. One day he showed up wearing a new orange belt. He claimed it was because he was tired of being so hard to find in a the pictures. From someone who prides himself on his stealth, that didn't sound right. Later, I saw Nick approach Zecora and say, "Like my belt? It's bold, kinda like your necklace."

Ahhh! Makes sense now....

Everyone on Main Street in Grand Lake, CO
Does Nick's new belt help?

Since everyone was still getting used to each other, we were in Colorado several days before I took them on an excursion. Remembering the bickering that took place in Idaho, we started with a short jaunt near the town (and lake) of Grand Lake.





They were so upbeat and cooperative, we all decided to check out some of the trails near the headwaters of the Colorado River. Before heading up, I made a quick stop for coffee and almost lost Bulldozer to some wild ideas.

Bulldozer was just a little to captivated by this title.

Fortunately, Prince Eric was able to appeal to Bulldozer's nobler side, reminding him that true bulldozers help create, not destroy. Somewhat reluctantly, Bulldozer came away.

Soon after, we reached the trailhead and headed off! Spirits were high and adventure was coursing through our veins. We only had a couple hours and we were going to make them count!


Mountains, ho!!!

We've got this, Team!
One of the Never Summer Mountains
(no friends pictured)

As we were hiking, I noticed that Nick Fury persistently stayed close to Zecora, trying to talk to her. Zecora, for her part, seemed to respect Nick as a fellow warrior, but took no interest in his advances. In an effort to keep things formal, she insisted on calling him "Director Fury".


The remains of a silver miner's cabin.
During this photo, Zecora stepped aside for a moment.
She implied it was to use the restroom, but I suspect it was to get some space from Director Fury.

If this pic had sound, you'd hear Nick belting out "Rocky Mountain High Colorado!"
If you look closely, you will see everyone else rolling their eyes and Zecora grimacing.

Along the banks of the shallow beginnings of a big river
Back at the car and the feeling of adventure still high, we decided tonight was the night to investigate the 20+ year old MRE I'd taken from my parents house. With the help of some tequila, we gathered up and got ready to dissect the questionable package. As I opened my knife, Prince Eric called out, "Wait! Where's Nick?"

He was right. Nick Fury was nowhere to be seen. He was the most eager when the MRE scheme first got mentioned earlier in the afternoon. He wouldn't miss this unless something was wrong.


"Where's Nick?!"
The last time anyone in the group remembered seeing him was at the sight of the last picture by the Colorado River. I ran off up the trail to see if I could see any sign of him. Nothing. I asked a few hikers if they'd seen anything, but no luck. They were sympathetic, though, and offered to keep an eye out.

Returning to the rest of the group with the bad news, everyone was subdued and sad. Even though we no longer had time to heat the meal, we went ahead and opened the MRE anyway, because, as Pikachu stated, "Nick would've wanted it that way." Seeing the tightly sealed packets of food, no one had much of an appetite, not even Giraffe. Noticing that the Tabasco had dried out within its bottle, Bulldozer cried, "Nick has saved us one last time!"

Zecora, although her usual, reserved self, was the only one who appeared unaffected by the loss of Nick Fury.

This Tabasco dried out within a glass bottle with a sealed lid,
that was enclosed in a plastic baggy,
and wrapped in the larger air-tight package

Leaving everyone to grieve in their own way, I left to join the ranger-led night hike. Walking towards the trail for the third time that evening, something caught my eye.

It was Nick!

He was standing on the sign at the entrance. Whooping with delight, I quickly scooped him up and stowed him safely in my pocket. I explained to the other hikers what was going on. One man said he'd seen Nick on the ground earlier. Somebody else must have picked him up.

(Sidenote: If you read my other post about Colorado, this incident is another reason that I think the night-hike group didn't know what to make of me.)

That night, everyone was overjoyed to have Nick back with us. Pikachu gave him a hug. Giraffe offered him her favorite snacks. Bulldozer offered to do all his digging for him. Eric made a speech.

When asked what happen, Nick's only explanation was, "I was stupid." He glanced quickly over to Zecora, who nodded her head slightly in return.

After that day, Nick remains fairly subdued. He also keeps a more respectful distance from Zecora. He seems to be a changed man.


Happily reunited and enjoying the Flat Top Mountain Trail

Although, the other day, I overheard Nick getting fired up during a political discussion with Prince Eric. Zecora tapped her hoof lightly, and, with some struggle, he stopped almost immediately.

This might get interesting...