Another catch-up post. North Bend State Park is our "local" state park.
Here is my journal entry:
Overhanging Rock
North Bend State Park
August 2012
Encyclopedia, Cool Guy, Burt, and me
Drizzy day. Lovely 1/2 mile hike involving some climbing and stairs down a steep slope. Walk along rocks neat.
Burt fell down the stairs.
That's it. That's the whole entry. What I remember is that we had lunch first, and then right as we were about to hike, this amazing storm just blew in out of nowhere. We were in a picnic shelter and decided to give it a few minutes, and pretty soon, the storm passed. It was pretty neat seeing it come in.
I also remember that everyone, including Encyclopedia, who claims not to like hiking but secretly does, had a wonderful time.
And that bit about the stairs: remember, it had been raining. The stairs were wood, and wet, and unlike in Ohio parks, there was no chicken wire over the treads. Burt fell and fell hard. And it hurt. Bad. You should have seen the bruise. And the stigmata on his palm. Now, every time we encounter wooden stairs on a trail, we have to make some joking reference to Burt. That's what is so great about family: the accumulated experiences and inside jokes that arise from them. North Bend will always be the place of The Fall.
Burt got some decent boots after the fact.
Here is my journal entry:
Overhanging Rock
North Bend State Park
August 2012
Encyclopedia, Cool Guy, Burt, and me
Drizzy day. Lovely 1/2 mile hike involving some climbing and stairs down a steep slope. Walk along rocks neat.
Burt fell down the stairs.
That's it. That's the whole entry. What I remember is that we had lunch first, and then right as we were about to hike, this amazing storm just blew in out of nowhere. We were in a picnic shelter and decided to give it a few minutes, and pretty soon, the storm passed. It was pretty neat seeing it come in.
I also remember that everyone, including Encyclopedia, who claims not to like hiking but secretly does, had a wonderful time.
And that bit about the stairs: remember, it had been raining. The stairs were wood, and wet, and unlike in Ohio parks, there was no chicken wire over the treads. Burt fell and fell hard. And it hurt. Bad. You should have seen the bruise. And the stigmata on his palm. Now, every time we encounter wooden stairs on a trail, we have to make some joking reference to Burt. That's what is so great about family: the accumulated experiences and inside jokes that arise from them. North Bend will always be the place of The Fall.
Burt got some decent boots after the fact.
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