Hiking like a girl

Sometimes, the way to experience an adventure to its fullest is through the eyes of a child. And though I have been told I sometimes act like a child, this is a recounting of time spent with actual verifiable children. 12 year old children to be specific. My daughter, Lilli, along with her sister and 2 of their friends wanted to go hiking, so Huffygirl and I took them to Mueller Park in Bountiful to do just that. To be clear, there was some hiking that went on. But there were so many other side trips and activities that it’s kinda hard to pinpoint the actual trail traveling.

The stream was the magnet immediately upon our arrival. Crossing it on a log at first, then finding good crossing rocks down the stream. At one point, someone needed to use a bathroom which was across the stream from where we were at the moment. There was a beautiful wood and steel bridge right in front of us that majestically traversed the 15 foot wide stream as part of a wide and well-marked path to the park bathroom. The girls were not able to see the bridge that was 20 feet from them and must not have heard me over the sound of the rushing water. One of the friends (referred to forthwith as Wild Girl, or WG) was semi-carefully looking for good rocks to cross on. I was a little nervous because there really weren’t enough rocks at this point and I wondered if we would have to go home if someone got a toe wet or something. Suddenly WG’s foot slipped and went into about 6 inches of water. There was immediate laughter and then the other foot went in and she simply sloshed across the stream as happy as could be. WG was followed into the creek by the other friend, who would take upon her the nickname of Trippy Girl (TG) on this trip and they headed off to the bathroom together. Lilli and her sister (LS) worked hard to pick a better path to get across. Though they came close, in the end, 8 pairs of shoes were soaked and we hadn’t even started the hike yet!

Real hikers - no posers here!!

Huffygirl works with preschoolers and she told me the kids in her classes had nothing on these 4 pre-pubescents when it came to being busy. Here is a list of just some of the activities we found ourselves observing or sharing in during this 2 hour “hike”:

- Climbed atop a giant boulder and posed for pictures.

- Scrambled up a hillside and found a skull of a carnivore. Had to keep it. In the trunk it went.

- Also found a dried out husk of corn. Had to keep it too, but it got dropped and it broke apart (so sad).

- The gate to the trail had an opening for hikers. This was ignored and climbing and squeezing through and over the gate ensued.

- Found a 12 inch pipe shooting a large stream of water into the creek. Lilli asked if she could stand on it. I said yes and TG also balanced with her. Didn’t look very exciting to me but they seemed pretty pleased.

- Found pretty rocks in freshly-graded sections of the road. Pockets were filled.

- Pretty gold flakes were found in the road. Spent several minutes collecting.

- Found several piles of elk scat. Garnered lots of attention.

- Lilli started crossing the stream on a narrow, not so sturdy log. Turned around when she found nothing to hold onto. The log was about 6 feet over the stream. I felt good about that decision.

- Found hiking sticks halfway through the hike. One was at least 5” in diameter. Funny girls.

- Climbed around on a little diversion dam. Threw rocks into the water. Tried to get me wet.

- WG scrambled into a clearing on a hill while the others pointed out a sign that said to keep off the hill. Something about a reclamation project - they asked me what it meant. I told them it was where they recycled used clay. They thought that was cool.

- After turning around, they stopped at the elk scat piles and squished them all with their hiking sticks. I told them that the sticks were not going in the car.

- We skipped rocks in the little diversion dam, which was no more than 30 feet across. I tried to teach 2 of the girls how to skip rocks. Eventually I just had them skip rocks across the road. It was easier and they were happy.

- An anthill in the road found large cylindrical wood things attacking their colony. They ran around in confusion.

Disrupting McDonald's customers at the post-hike meal...

At one point there was a split in the trail where one path took the girls up a short rocky wall. We met them 50 feet along the trail where they had to slide down a steep section to get back to the main trail again. I positioned myself so as they slid down, I helped them onto the level part of the trail. LS took this as a challenge to take out Huffyman once and for all. She was the last one down and slid directly into me, which then caused my feet to fall over the trail lip and toward the angry raging river below. I tried to push LS up as I went down but to no avail. As my life flashed before my eyes (wow, I really did some dumb things!) and little girl screams filled the air, my feet caught onto a root that crossed the face of the slope and we stopped sliding. I stopped screaming. Saved by a root! On the return trip, when we reached this spot in the trail, the girls giggled and I heard whisperings of “Scream, Huffyman, scream…” Huffygirl held my hand – not to keep me from falling but just because she wanted to at that very moment. All was good.

The hike ended at the parking lot where our little car patiently waited. The trunk was filled with a skull, pretty rocks and 2 walking sticks that I was assured had not been in contact with elk poop. The ride to drop off the girls was very giggly, as most of the afternoon had been. If there is anything that can remind you of the amazing variety of interesting activities and side-trips that exist on a very normal looking trail, it’s a small group of 12 year old girls!

Shark Attack!

On this weekend, we had one goal. To see the Sharks beat the Coyotes. And to get real warm. And to visit The Sugar Bowl in Scottsdale for a pineapple mint shake. And we wanted to see if the hot dogs in Jobing Arena in Glendale were as good as the hot dogs in Coors Park in Denver. It was simplicity at its best, a weekend with one and only one goal.  This quest found us viewing the Grand Canyon from 27,000 feet on Saturday afternoon. It was beautiful when we took off from Salt Lake City Airport and even beautifuller when we landed at Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix. This adventure was shared by Huffygirl, Will and me. Will is a high school hockey player and had never been to an NHL hockey game. Neither had Bobby or I. We had watched the San Jose Sharks the previous night on TV and I thought it was pretty cool we were going to see them from lower level, row L in a matter of hours!

After checking into the hotel, we presented Will with a new Sharks shirt to wear to the game. Bobbi and I had new shirts too so we all got dressed and headed for the Jobing Arena in style. Once we got into the designated parking lot, I wasn’t sure exactly how the parking spots worked. We pulled up to some tailgating fans and I asked how the parking was arranged. They told us we were wearing the wrong colored shirts and they weren’t sure they could help us. One of the guys, the one with the Coyotes tattoo emblazoned across his forehead, told us that our kind weren’t welcome in those parts. I asked if he meant the spot right next to them or if he meant the entire parking lot. He said the ladder. I laughed at him because I didn’t even ask about a ladder! He was about to throw his beer in my face (even though I wasn’t thirsty) when his friend stopped him, “He ain’t even worth it, Buck.” As we drove away, I told them to watch the movie, Sharknado, to know what was in store for them!

As we walked to the arena, we were feeling a little less bold among the horde of Coyote red. We saw a pair of Sharks fans and I tapped one on the shoulder and told him how glad we were to see them and tried to give them a friendly hug. They looked at me like I was a bad-smelling criminal. I wondered how they knew about the hard time I’d served. We walked away quickly before they called the Segway-riding security cops who were roaming the area. Soon we noticed there were lots of other Shark fans. Almost a sea of them! (Yes, that just happened)

We stood down by the glass during the Shark’s warm-up to get a sense of the power of the game and to see the tooth gaps up close. Pucks were hitting the glass all around us. Someone said it looked like the players were aiming for me. I made one more shark scream and headed back to my seat and the pucks stopped hitting the glass. It was like they didn’t appreciate a devoted fan.

A happy hockey fan

The Coyotes and Sharks played a terrific game, though the Coyote yelps were nothing compared to Shark screams! It didn’t seem the other Sharks fans were getting into it but I paid the money so I was gonna scream! I asked the Coyote fan next to us why the local fans were louder when the Coyotes scored that when the Sharks scored. He said he didn’t know, but something about his expression made me think he did and just wasn’t telling me. After one Phoenix score, I put my fist out to him in a gesture of sportsmanship. Apparently, they have a tradition down there that they return the fist bump to your nose. It was cool to be part of the local flavor and my nose stopped bleeding pretty quickly.

After the battle on the ice was over, the Sharks had 1 more goal than the Coyotes. Goal accomplished. The hot dogs were good, but not as good as at a Rockies game. Other goal accomplished. We also went to the Sugar Bowl where I relished my Pineapple mint shake and we definitely soaked up our share of the warm Arizona sunshine and we finally headed home with happy smiles on our faces. All goals accomplished!

Greenie in NYC

“You’re not from around here, are you?” asked the lady behind the glass.

“How'd you know?” I asked.

“Well… trying to use the subway card for the Metro North TRAIN was not my first clue, but let’s just stick with that one.”

The glass lady’s wry grin told me she was enjoying my embarrassment way more than I was. I was indeed out of my element. This was my first day in New York City ever. And navigating the cavernous Grand Central Station was a little overwhelming and I had just realized that I stuck out like a zebra in a pride of lions.

I had wondered what was special about this place called New York City and what of the lore I’d heard over the years was true and what was not. The first truism was racked up very quickly. I paid to ride a shuttle from LaGuardia Airport to my hotel in Midtown Manhattan. That ride was scarier and more thrilling than any roller coaster I have ever ridden. An Australian family shared the van with me and they were very talkative while we were waiting to get going. As soon as the driver strapped on his 6 point harness and slipped on his driving gloves, all chit chat ceased while we each were compelled to contemplate the great beyond in our own special ways. There do not appear to be any rules on NYC streets. Nor did there appear to be any personal space between cars. I never actually felt us scrape another car, but the essence of yellow taxi paint was all over our shuttle. I kissed the ground when I was finally dropped off at my hotel. A beat cop jabbed me in the side with his night stick and told me to get off the ground and go sleep it off before he threw me into the drunk tank.

My mission in the morning was simple. I just had to get on the Metro North train and take it to White Plains NY. I honestly didn’t know there was a difference between the trains and the subways. I bought a subway ticket on the way in, thinking I was fitting in pretty nicely and feeling quite proud of myself. But none of the subways went to White Plains so I just started walking with the sea of people, and walking and walking… I finally came to the massive Grand Central Station where the kind glass lady sold me an actual train ticket. At first, we were told it was delayed due to some “police activity”, but after about 15 minutes, I was able to board the train. The seats in my car faced each other, 3 seats on each side. There was so little room that only 2 passengers could sit on each side and our knees had to be aligned beside the person’s knees who sat across from us. Kinda made us all friends from the start, though it was more of a physical friendship than anything else. Halfway to my destination, we stopped and were told there had been an accident and trains were backed up and we had to wait. Soon, we heard that an earlier train had hit and killed a pedestrian. There had been some light grumbling about the delays before, but with this news, there was a paradigm shift that brought with it talk of life and gratitude and respect. It was pretty cool to feel a sense of memorial to some extent at the word that a fellow commuter had died.

At my destination, the courthouse in White Plains, the X-ray guy asked me if I had a camera in by backpack. He told me I had to leave my camera with them while I completed my visit. I reached past my webcam-bearing snapshot-capable laptop and almost dropped my phone with built-in 5GB camera and handed the nice man my tourist camera so that I would not be able to take pictures in the building. When I was ready to leave, I found I had lost my receipt for my camera but I was able to talk him into believing it was mine after a few minutes. I then went looking for a bathroom and I heard, “Hey! You! Where you goin’?” Camera guy was the one asking.

“Looking for a bathroom…”, I told him.

“You’ll have to leave your camera here”

I assured him there was nothing in the bathroom I was going to take any pictures of, but he was unrelenting.

“You’re not from around here”, he stated, not seeking an answer.

I rode a shuttle back to the train station – this was in upstate NY, so much more peaceful than my previous shuttle adventure. The driver chatted amiably with the young lady passenger and me while we made our way through the city. When they found I was a greenie to the area, they had many suggestions of where I should get dinner that night. The girl suggested going to Soho – I’m guessing this is the Salmon District? Not sure about that suggestion… extremely nice people, though.

After getting back to the train station and having mastered the idea that trains and subways were different, I decided to take the subway for a quick hop, just to say I did. I ran my subway card through the slot at the turnstile and the display told me I had enough points for 1 premium foot-long and a cookie. I realized this was the wrong card and got out the subway card I had purchased in the morning. I tried running it through the slot and nothing happened. I tried again and again. I felt the pressure of people waiting behind me, so I gave up and moved out of the way to let them pass. A kind lady behind me pointed out that the display said to try again. I mumbled something about trying again later at which point she took my card from my hand. I started to scream for help, thinking I was being mugged, but before I could get out a second screech, she slid my card through the slot and the display said I was A-Ok. She smiled and gave me my card back and smiled, “You’re not from around here, are you?” I thanked her profusely and joined the throng of humanity.

I am now safely back in my hotel room, relaxing to the car horns and the occasional siren and the opera music going on in the next room. One thing I had always heard was that New Yorkers were rude. As I think back on my day, I have only found kindness and respect. Okay, I think glass lady was kinda making fun of me, but can you blame her?!