Monday, November 19, 2012
Forrest arrived safely at the airport and we returned to my abode, where my mother was excited to see him. We then left her behind and drove to Rosa's for lunch.
His sunglasses were deceased so we went to a nearby Walgreens and tried on glasses.
Diva!
I made him try on an Elton John-ish pair, as I am required by law.
Elton Forrest.
We stopped at Starbucks so he could purchase a coffee beverage and then drove through the desert to the trail to Wasson Peak.
Sonoran Desert.
Once back in 2007 we hiked this trail, and I kept inventing memories of particular places. We never, however, went all the way to the top, which reaches 4,672 ft above sea level.
Wasson Peak is actually behind the giant rock.
It was in the mid-70s and I removed my shirt as it was getting all sweaty. My Amish hat kept the balding portion of my anatomy from reddening.
He is scampering here.
As I tromped up towards the summit, he looked like Jesus.
Forrest has a beef taco and green chili.
I made him try on an Elton John-ish pair, as I am required by law.
We stopped at Starbucks so he could purchase a coffee beverage and then drove through the desert to the trail to Wasson Peak.
Once back in 2007 we hiked this trail, and I kept inventing memories of particular places. We never, however, went all the way to the top, which reaches 4,672 ft above sea level.
Getting ready to go.
The lower portion of the trail is flat, winding through the cactus-filled desert. Off in the distance are some peaks and Forrest helpfully pointed out that we were heading that way. I wondered to myself, "What is the Atheist God's world did I get myself into?"
It was in the mid-70s and I removed my shirt as it was getting all sweaty. My Amish hat kept the balding portion of my anatomy from reddening.
See, not so bad!
I am out-of-shape, compared to Forrest, who is half mountain goat. Many of the self portraits I took along the trail looked exactly like this:
Will I have a heart attack now, or in the next ten minutes?
We passed around the enormous rock outcrop and then saw Wasson Peak, named after a 19th century surveyor, John Wasson. I told Forrest to mountain goat walk ahead of me.
As I tromped up towards the summit, he looked like Jesus.
Forrest Christ.
We hung out for a while at the top. I could check my emails and do other internet activities, which seemed rather wrong.
We took many pictures.
The sun was starting to set as we headed down, my tennis shoes slipping eight times on the gravel-covered path. I retained my balance and did not fall onto my behind.
Cotton candy clouds.
The overall trail is 7.8 miles and my legs felt awkward afterward, but this morning they feel alright.
Sunset.
At home I made tostadas and we looked at photos and it was overall an enjoyable day.
