July 4th, 10am, from the observatory up there. Actual photograph. Actual view:
And here’s one of my wife and friends standing in front of it:
Incredible, I know. I bet you’re wishing YOU got up at seven AM to drive up there, now, right? Instead of hiking the trail, we went around the Hummocks trail, lower down the mountain. Actually the hummocks are the former top of the mountain, from where it blew off in 1980, and ended up down river.
I love hiking, because it’s hard and rugged. And you feel like a man when you’re doing it. Like L.Ron Hubbard but without the “messengers” or naval uniform. We saw a foxglove or two, which is a well known plant in England but apparently not here, because people kept asking me what it was called again, and I kept yelling, “IT’S A FOXGLOVE,” and telling them that while beautiful, they are also poisonous. Which is a metaphor for alcohol and the minority of hookers.
I also saw a mosquito taking a bite out of my right arm, actually in the act of sucking the blood out. So I said “cunts” (…it’s always fascinating to me which swear words come to mind when I actually need them) and swept him off. And there was a load of blood trickling down my arm afterwards. I felt a little faint. And rugged. And manly. Of course.
To top off the hike, we found this (below, left) in the middle of the trail. It’s a broken robin’s egg. Which, I suspect, once contained a robin. The most innocent of birds. Who ever harmed this little fella, eh? Why did he deserve to be eaten by a larger, more powerful bird, perhaps one with political connections? It made me think of Peterson’s being eaten by the Portland Business Alliance. But it was alright, because my mate Michael was raised a Buddhist, and he told me you’re only heading for suffering if you attach yourself to things in the world. Like material possessions, or robins. So I thought about that for a while as we were hiking around, and I realized, that’s the total opposite of the way I live my life. Which must be why I suffer so much.
For example, on the way down the hill, we stopped at a cafe which advertises “WORLD FAMOUS COBBLER,” and I had the world famous cobbler, and it actually should be world famous, because I want to go back next year, and the next year, and eat more and more and more of it, and one day, that place is going to change, and not sell cobbler any more, and I’m going to be crestfallen. But I will have loved and lost.
Then we came home, and there was a car alarm going off, and I started to think Michael may have been right, because that was three hours ago, and it’s still going off outside the window right now, and I’m now thinking about going out there and smashing up the car, because my attachment to its alarm is causing me a LOT of suffering.
It’s like I’m giving off this aura today. So imagine, as you’re reading the end of this post, that there’s been the EHH EHH EHH of a car alarm going off, all the way through it.
Yep. You should TOTALLY come hiking with me some time.
Also, stop asking me if I’ve forgiven you for Independence Day yet. I’ve now been asked four times since yesterday including once by some complete strangers on our hike. And I want to be all “it doesn’t bother me, really,” but in fact, Independence Day is the reason this country is fucked. If you’d just taken it in the pants from the British for a few more hundred years, the economy would be just fine, and there’d be no death. I’m sure of it.
Happy fourth of July, America. I am so fucking in love with you right now.