“Grrr….Who put this rock in my pack? Dad, did you do it?” B began stomping around mad as a hornet trying to find out who put the 4-5 pound rock in her backpack.
After a three mile hike to the ocean and another two miles up the beach, my twelve year old daughter B was unloading her pack and discovered the extra weight. The last two miles particularly had been a bit hard trudging through the deep sand. Carrying that extra weight had bent B's disposition into the red zone. The rain had drizzled on and off for most of the way. All of us were a bit heavier from the damp clothing, and I couldn’t blame B for being mad. I was a bit ticked myself.
As soon as we hit the sand my five year old son refused to go any further, so to keep him walking, his backpack was hoisted on top of mine. A half mile latter I inherited my eight year old daughter’s backpack. My friend Buck had also inherited his youngest daughters backpack and these extra loads were now bungee corded to the top of our packs. As we slogged down the beach, Buck commented, “Do you feel a bit like a mule? Yip that’s all we are, mule dads.” The view must have been similar to two high rise buildings waddling up the beach. I dared not stoop or bend to far forward because the balance was askew and my core was doing everything to keep my top heavy pack from toppling me over.
It seemed longer than it was but we finally arrived at our campsite. We soon had all the tents pitched. Buck laughed at me for bringing my huge family dome tent. I reminded him I had brought me family. I found a nice log to rest a minute which was awesome.
The remainder of the trip was uneventful and this is where I should probably consider making up some lies to keep the story interesting. I read once that when the author feels his story begins to lag, it is a good idea to kill off one of the main characters. Well I have not introduced any characters in this story yet that I would be willing to kill. Maybe if B was writing the story she might feel differently.
That first night brought out a hoard of raccoons which of course forced me to accept the mission to kill at least two. Sadly, I was unable to kill even one. Is the story getting more interesting now? Not? Hmmmm…. I know raccoons just do what raccoons do and they can’t help it. I know it’s not really their fault God created them the way He did, but I really wanted them to go somewhere else and to do their raccoon’in behavior. Some would argue that I was the one invading their space. Now don’t get all new age’y on me. Remember I’m the guy who thought it was a good idea to shoot a rooster because I wanted a taxidermy subject. Scavengers during the night are what raccoons do but doesn’t that simply translate into being just lazy. Who respects that?
Sure the little bush balls are as cute as scaditch but who can see them at night? It’s dark out! Let’s think about this a minute. I know it is wrong to question God because I am just a mere human and being created myself but why would he make a cute animal and then make it nocturnal. If I was god I would keep all the ugly animals as the nocturnal ones. Maybe I shouldn’t be too hard on God after all He did get it right when he made the rat, the bat and the possum nocturnal. Gee, I wonder if God feels better that I at least partially approve.
The rain stopped and the sun came out but it never warmed enough for bathing suits or water play. I did abscond a few muscles from a rock formation at low tide. They made a nice treat for dinner one night. One more highlight was the pictographs up at the north end of the trail. I suppose they were made by the Makah Indian Tribe in times past. I found them a little less wonderful than the advertisement described.
Upon repacking to head home B was in for justice but it just did not seem possible. Buck kept repacking his pack and each time finding a huge rock hidden amongst his stuff. The sun was out and with our packs a little lighter, leaving a food offering for the night scavengers, we headed back up the trail. Everyone was in great spirits and laughing could be heard up and down the trial amongst the children. It took us a couple hours coming out to make it back to our vehicles. We had driven separate vehicles so we caravanned down highway 101 out of Forks. Being in the jovial all around good mood I made the decision to use an area designated for slower vehicles to zoom past Buck and wave bye bye. He of course within the next 10 miles did the same thing to me. B informed me that she didn’t think Jesus would have done such an illegal thing.
Pulling into Sequim I needed a quick stop at a mini-mart and being a rule breaker, YES! there were lots of open parking spaces but I pulled into the lone Handicapped space right up front. B informed me once again she didn’t think Jesus would do such a thing.
No other events worth mentioning happened on our return trip. The next day I talked with Buck and he laughed at that little B’ster because somewhere somehow when he unpacked his backpack, way down at the bottom was a huge 5 pound rock. I of course asked B if she thought Jesus would have done such a thing - - - no I didn’t - - - but I am pretty sure He would have.