Step one: an 80 stair descent. There was a sign warning that one of the trails was closed due to falling rocks, and after studying the sign for a bit, I discovered that I couldn't figure out which trail they meant and I'd just have to take my chances. Good thing I wore my impenetrable toque of awesome.
So I wander on down the cliffside and begin my descent into the depths of...well, the gorge. And what do I see? A fucking McDonalds cup. I hate litter. I dislike litter when I walk by it on the sidewalk or on campus, but if you're littering in the gorge, you're just as asshole. A big, rude asshole. Don't smear your crap all over nature, buddy. If I can carry a ziplock baggy in my pocket for my cigarette butts, you can chuck your fast food fat trash in the proper receptacle, so conveniently located at the base of the 80 step stair. Moving on, I walked down some rock stairs. Yay, rock stairs!
After walking down some more, I happened upon a wonderful log hovering off the ground in the middle. So I decided that, having learned many skills from Point Break, I'd best try and surf it. Luckily still photos from a camera can't capture severe leg shakage as a result of trying to keep balance. But none of that matters. Because I look cool.
I then followed a rough line of stones marking my path, until I decided paths were for suckers and wandered off. The wandering paid off, and I happened upon a loverly cave. There's a burnt out campfire in front of it, so I think this is where those crazy kids go to do their boozing nowadays. I myself have never drank in the gorge.
Finally, I happened upon the river. It was very wet looking, as water often is. I scouted around for a convenient way to get right down to the water, and conveniently found a dirt slope that was conveniently less vertical than other routes of descent. I did that embarrassing looking baby step walk down, then decided, much like paths, that baby steps are for suckers, and began throwing myself from tree trunk to tree trunk. It was much fun.
After I got to the water, I clambered over the rocks until I got to a good one that rose up above the rest and was nice and flat on the top. I sat, removed my sweater, lit a cigarette, and named it Carrock. A couple wandered below me at one point. The man of the couple helped the woman get over the rocks. The woman of the couple was wearing pants that didn't successfully hide her neon pink thong. Not that I was staring. I just happened to notice whilst videotaping them. *shifty*
When I finished my smoke, I put the butt into my ziplock baggy, like a good little hippie, and climbed back up the slope. Unsurprisingly, it was more difficult than getting down.
I got back onto the path when I got back to the top, figuring I'd have a better change of finding my way out that way then I would had I gone thundering through the brush. I climbed through an awesome cave dealio and found that Nature had installed a skylight. Pretty, though not very rainproof, I'm sure.
After getting through a couple cave-like structures, I got to a fairly straight path through the trees and decided to switch up my cd choice. I figured Zeppelin was the way to go, and because I really wanted to hear Gallows Pole at the time, I opted for Zeppelin III.
Briefly after the music switch, I figured that so long as the ground was sloping in a general upward direction, the previously laid out paths were rendered useless. So once more, I wandered off the path and opted for...well, it turned out to be rather cliff like. I didn't get photo's of that part of the adventure. It's tough to stop and try and take a photo of yourself when you're facing a fall should you let go. When I got to the top of that bit, I found a sunnier, less eerie version of the Paths of the Dead. And I walked them, baby. Oh yes, I did.
Eventually my "path" joined up with a real path, as I figured it would, at some point. As the ground leveled out, I chugged some water, then realized I was still facing 80 stairs.
I caught my breath and took them at quite a leisurely pace. I paused quite a few times to read random key-scratched graffiti left on the rails by other Glen walkers. Only one deserved a photograph, really. I also got a really fantastic shot of one side of the gorge, looking at the direction I came from at the end of the hike. Pretty sweet, eh? EH?! Yeah. Yeah, it is.
I got to the top of the stairs in no time, though my legs still hurt from an aerobics hour class I did yesterday at the gym that somehow turned into an aerobics hour and a half. Some woman interrupted my solitude by asking me what kind of birds she'd been seeing flying around. She was pretty old, and I was tempted to say "vultures," but I opted for the more polite "I don't know," then wandered off and lit my cigarette. Of course, as is the case with life in general, I guess, just when you think it's over, you get a little reprise of random, as was the case with my realizing I had another flight of stairs to climb to get to my car. Ain't life a bitch.
All in all, I had a good time! Got some good photos, heard some great music, hiked and climbed and balanced and hopped and even danced and sang a little. Of course, some of that final cheer vanished during a four hour film class at Brock during which my ass fell asleep not once, but twice, and I overheard some little 18-year-old twat tell her friend how she broke her perfectly good cell phone so her mother would buy her a new one, simply because she was bored of the style.
I bet she left that McDonalds cup in the gorge....
2 comments:
All you need is some treasure now!
You should have named it "Kar Rock." *nod*
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