Glorious Beginnings

Greetings and salutations, my people. Here is a stock photo that came with my first post text. I like it, so I have kept it. How wondrous.

Cute. Sunset. Much wow.

John (smallest broski) and I have just finished hiking our first 100 miles, and so now I am blogging about it. There are many things, but in the interests of your attention span and efficiency of time, I shall limit them to a few carefully curated bullet points, chosen to give you the fullest experience with the least amount of effort. Here goes…

• Trail Farts. My hiking partner says he is innocent. My olfactory appendages beg to differ. You may think, smallest broski, that you are safe farting 100 feet ahead of me. Trust me. You are not. On those still, golden summery evenings, nothing stays in the air better than those dancing motes of dust… and your farts. Stop it.
• Trail Angels. So before four days ago, the trail was quite dry. Exceedingly dry. One might even call it, “I have touched the Ark of the Covenant and am unworthy, unlike our good friend Indiana Jones” dry. Luckily for us, we are more like Indiana Jones than that other dude. We happened to meet the person responsible for the upkeep of the trail in one of our sections, because she had to go to the Dollar Store to obtain white-out, and we had to go to the Dollar Store to obtain ice cream in the middle of our hike. She, rightfully concerned about the next 30 waterless miles on top of a ridgeline, then proceeded to leave us water at carefully chosen points, so that we are not here speaking to you as shriveled husks. This is only a single example of trail greatness:
  
  Speaking of water, though, leads us to our next point, which is…
• Trail Rain. Some of you may have heard of tropical storm Cindy. She is tearing through the area at a fine 9 miles per hour, as I write, dripping tediously upon the forests and denuded mountain nubs of northern Alabama. Luckily for us dedicated connoisseurs of trailhood, we do not mind. *coughcoughcough* Ok, that was a lie. Think on this, my peoples. Four days with everything around you dripping on your head like a long, neverending form of Chinese torture. Even worse, it drips on your bag, on your rain gear, on your tent, on your fingernails as you make foods, on your DANGBLASTED FIRE THAT I MADE BECAUSE IT WAS RAINING TAKE THAT, RAINS, TAKE THAT. Oh… Speaking of…
• Trail Fire! HUZZAH

BURNNN.

Nothing warms the cockles of my erstwhile hiking heart more than topping a ridge and being greeted by the whiff of smoke and this glorious sight. HUZZAH. Will we die? I KNOW NOT, SMALLEST BROTHER, I KNOW NOT. We eventually determined that these were probably prescribed burns, figured that the wind was blowing in the other direction, so if it got out of hand we were still out of the line of fire (aha. ha. ha) and moved on with our lives. I am sure you will be delighted to hear that we did not burn.

At any rate, so ends our first 100 miles. Also, my attention span is short. I am tired. Perhaps someday I shall make you another post. A better post. One with tiny things.

TINY THINGS.

Much love,

Sail Away