Wish You Were Here
A couple of weeks ago a whole herd of Olympians got out to celebrate life like a bunch of ether-sniffing monks worshipping some invisible cosmic mandala. The rituals took place at Goldmyer hotsprings, a short drive from North bend. The road, while treacherous and covered in asteroid-esque pot holes and impassably slick snow, proved to be more than an insurmountable task leaving many of us stranded 10 miles from the trail head. Luckily we have friends with high clearance and chains and the will to shuttle chunks of our group from where we stopped to where the trail began. 4.5 miles of post holing later and we were greeted by a caretaker who gave us a white bucket and pointed towards the last leg of our journey as if she was Death herself directing us to where we could set up shop for eternity. One last hill stomp and we were there. A plush triple pool populated by abesent minded absinth sippers in nothing more than slippers and the skin they rode in on.
We bathed for hours. We bathed like it was 1999. We bathed until our noses had been saturated by molecules of sulphur, leaving only standing room in our hairy caverns, and slouching room in our moist lungs. Muscles limp, asses smacked at random. Naked snow angels, stars winking in the distance as if to say "Hey there, how about that full moon?". We were nothing more than a display in a Christmas window. Foggy glass, fake snow littering the ground, and naked cherubs worshipping at the altar. Nymphs in Pan's lair. Suckling from the wine bladder, mouths agape, minds warped.
I slept well that night. Only awakened by the screech and gong of a pair of mating owl crys. They had gotten a whiff of what was in the air and decided to descend upon one another like club-drunk snow monkeys embracing the inferno that burned from within pulsating like the beat of a disco.
The following day was slightly torturous. Suffering from the severe pain in my leg, dehydration, and exhaustion I lost more than a few calories on the way back to the car and decided that Chai-spice tea is not better the second time around (nor is bacon, eggs, salsa, and un-cooked hashbrowns posing as mozzarella).
We did make it to the Harmon brewery in Tacoma in time to eat a couple of baskets of bottomless fish and chips before they decided to re-attach the bottom.
All in all, an amazing time.
A couple of days ago I recieved some long-awaited information regarding my Achilles tendon. The doctor, after reviewing my MRI, came into the examination room and sat down next to me. I guess he thought I wasn't expecting to hear him say "It's a complete tear". Boy was he wrong. Luckily they scheduled me for surgery the very next day and voila! I am now comfortably sporting a large incision on the inside of my right leg and a newly repaired Achilles tendon. I am SO psyched that I am finally healing in a positively influenced direction. After the nerve block wore off I was reduced to a quivering pile of goo. Writhing in pain like a snake in the garden of Eden. Thank Science for tiny white pills that make you feel as if your 5 years old again licking the frosting from your grandmothers mixing bowl while a warm breeze blows up your Umbro's giving you feelings you can't quite attach to memory yet.
I'm on day 3, and the good news is that I have been able to shed my crutches and bear weight on my injured foot. I'll be wearing this cumbersome boot for a total of 6 weeks, but after that, it's back to tennis shoes and hopefully some light bike riding. Another 2-4 weeks and I'll be able to jog. Hopefully by the start of June I'll be climbing again!!
So, just make sure you strectch before playing basketball. Or better yet, just don't playt basketball. Stick to the mountains, the rocks, the water and the wild flower covered meadows where you can twirl in a bleach white apron singing about the musically opressed cities of Austria.
For now, I will be here. I wish you all could join me.
Oh yeah, I'm going to be religiously participating in rain dances for the next 8 weeks so I don't miss out on any NW climbing. Sorry.