Writing is, in many cases, a cathartic experience; so to are nature and friendship. Therefore writing about a hiking trip in the mountains with friends will be the penultimate cleansing venture!
That faulty syllogism sort-a reads like a colon-cleansing ad now. But either way, that’s what’s coming down the pipe for this entry.
Last Saturday was our inaugural trek through the Laguna Mountain Recreation Area in Cleveland National Forest, just outside of San Diego. The plan was simple and began in the middle of the week.
Jon: “Want to go hiking this weekend?”
Me: “Sure.”
It didn’t evolve much until we were a few miles down Sunrise Highway, realizing we’d probably need a map. While buying a map at the trading post we learned we’d need a parking pass, and after driving around for an hour we learned that even though I was especially skilled at map reading (compared to Jon), no amount of skill would force the map to tell us anything about surrounding landmarks that could be used to find the trails. Picture a map of U.S. freeways without any major roads or cities marked.
I tried the whole “I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good” deal, but it didn’t pan out.
Miraculously, I determined that a tiny dirty path and an illegible sign in the confines of the Laguna Campground coincided with the markings on the map that read, Big Laguna Trail.
Sweetness. Cue adventure music.
Our first stop on our trek filled with Lord of the Rings quotes was a vast field of, well, not much. It was quite vast and field like, and would make a great background for a postcard. As we progressed we learned that this field grew to an even more vast state, in what the map told us was the Big Laguna Meadow. Meadow is a pretty gnarly word. You wouldn’t think to call that big empty lot of grass next to your house a meadow, but it could be! I endeavor to locate shires and knolls (not gnolls, which would need to be hacked to pieces for experience) on future trips.
The field-meadow relationship wasn’t the only concept that our hike challenged as we journeyed onward.
We soon came to a great expanse. Within the great expanse was a great deal of mud. Jon was hesitant to give a name to what we saw, but I had already made the unfortunate connection. The Big Laguna Lake was in fact the Big Laguna mud hole, a pair of fellow hikers confirmed to us.
Despite the lacking lake, the quest continued. We shifted from Big Laguna Trail, to the Meadow Trail, to the Sunrise Trail, then back again, while taking a few off-trail detours.
I was rewarded on our first deviation from the trail with an arrow! Oh, you might think, "Wow, an ancient Native American relic! What a find!" And in response I'd say, "No, why would I care about some moldy wooden arrow with a stone tip?" What I found was a nice fiberglass arrow shaft, with a steel broadhead arrowhead (redundant much?), and some crappy plastic vanes for fletching. Granted I can't use a broadhead in target competition, and I'd replace the plastic vanes with feathered ones, but a free fiberglass shaft is like... $5.00? Score. Makes me wonder what was in those trees that a hunter would need a broadhead point for, though.
Our eight mile trek brought us up hill then down, then up, and down again. And we saw neither hide nor hair of anything aside from people, birds, and a herd of "wild" cows.
The adventure left us tired, but eager for more. And as we arrived home later that evening, plans were already in the works for future outings. Next Saturday we're breaking out the mountain bikes and tearing up the mountain trails, in a very environmentally conscious way, of course. Then camping at some point, before it snows.
If only the girls I knew liked camping and exploring, that would make these trips even more cathartic.
