If there is a God, I lost weight in the past couple of weeks
I'm currently on the couch, kind of watching football. The Captain has been in Phoenix at a baseball nerd fest since Thursday, an event that came after a prior long weekend where we were both in Portland, Oregon, drinking wine and hiking 20,000 miles up and down a canyon full of waterfalls.
The hike was courtesy of our friend, Sami Khawaja, who, with great confidence, described it as a beautiful walk at Silver Falls State Park with 10 waterfalls, some of which you could walk behind. He asked me which I would prefer: the 3-mile hike, the 5-mile hike or the 7-mile hike. Knowing we'd be going into a canyon with an elevation difference of 700 feet, and being generally lazy, I opted for the 3-miles. "I mean, once you've seen four waterfalls, you've kind of seen them, all," I reasoned and he agreed.
Off we set. It is glorious. The trees are a blinding array of yellows, oranges and greens. The trail is wide, the waterfalls are tremendous. The stream gurgles and meanders. It's cool, but the sun is in a cloudless, azure sky. I tie my jacket around my waist and embrace the beauty.
We went down hills to get behind some falls and back up to the trail; up a long hill to see the alleged double falls (it's one fall that doglegs) and back down to the trail.
We had discussed the need for snacks but opted against it as we were taking the short trail. My stomach starts rumbling, louder at times than the reminder from my bunion that when it comes to long walks, the bunion votes no.
My tracker hit 7,500 steps (3.5 miles) and we were still deep in the forest. The boys were discussing options. "We might have missed a turn," Sami confesses. "Do you want to go back the way we came or keep going?"
Reasoning that we were already three miles in, it made sense to me that we keep going. "It's five miles, total, right?" I asked.
"Well," he hedged. "It might actually be more like three or four more miles."
Sami is a PhD statistician. He's good with numbers. In the wild, apparently, they get away from him.
Luckily for us, a couple with a map was coming toward us. The Captain and the Statistician consult the map and decide we can turn back and take a short cut. Off we set.
By this time, I think we've counted six waterfalls. Seven if you count the double one twice. We see one more even though the shortcut wasn't supposed to be as scenic. That should have been a clue. My bunion is screaming at me to risk frostbite and go barefoot, but I persevere.
I see metal blinking through the trees around a bend. "Hurrah!" I say. "I see the parking lot."
But no. It was not the lot where we had parked. The boys are behind me, so I have time to wipe the despair from my face.
"It's probably just ahead," Sami says.
By now, Sami has lost all credibility. As we trudge onward through the forest, we pass others. Each time he asks them if they've seen a parking lot from whence they've come. The first couple said, "Sorry. We're lost, too. We have no idea where our car is." The second person nodded and said there was a lot on ahead. I asked if there was a bathroom there because there had been one where we'd parked. He thought so. The Captain helpfully says, "I think there are bathrooms at all of them."
We keep going. The third couple who comes our way tell us there is, in fact, a parking lot up ahead with a bathroom. By this time, Jeff is sure I need to pee. I do not need to pee. I need to sit down. "How far is it to the lot," Sami asks.
"Not far," one of them says. "Only about a mile."
Only another mile. My bunion is still screaming but it's a silent scream, stifled by the lack of reaction. We trudge on. Six hours later (or maybe 10 minutes, who can say by this point) I see the same glimmer of metal. I have no hope.
I step onto the pavement and spy a bathroom to my left but there's no sign of Sami's car. Behind me, I hear him gasp as he, too, cannot see his car. We do not make eye contact. I stumble on farther. Glory hallalujah! The car is there, hidden by a copse of trees.
Somehow after all that time, I didn't even have to use the bathroom. My body might have converted the urine to fuel. All I really know is we escaped Silver Falls and spent the rest of the weekend drinking wine and having an amazing time with Sami, Lori and for a short while, Lori's sister Julia.
The trip home included an extra day - thank you snowfall that cancelled our connecting flight.
Because of the delay, we spent Sunday touring wineries. One was run by a couple and had some really great views, but we gambled on one even Sami hadn't heard of. It was just an eighth of a mile down a gravel road. We were prepared for another tiny estate.
We found a gorgeous property and ended up being the sole guests of the Dusky Goose. The stunning vistas was matched by the wine and our host. Sami and Lori ended up joining the wine club and the back of the car was full of wine between the two stops.
Jeff had bought local beer and we ended up needing an extra suitcase to get all the beverages home. We're hoping to host Sami and Lori next, but I'd be up for another trip to Oregon. I'll be researching the next hike, though.
With Jeff gone, I've still been fairly busy. The annual Ronald McDonald House fundraiser was Friday. My table was most excellent, and I'm very excited that our friend Peter Ryan - the wine guy - is willing to auction himself off again next year. I'm grateful to my friends who joined me and were generous donors to an amazing organization.
I'll pick Jeff up at the airport tonight and we'll go back to normal life for a while. I think I'm OK with that. Sure, I have been active lately, but I also had some great meals and even better wine. I'll be lucky to not add to the scales. But it's been worth it.
Hope you have a great week! If you're ever in Oregon and get invited to hike with Sami, bring your own map. But trust him to get you to the best wine.
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