i think we're almost to the top... no, really this time

Ok children, come gather around my big big big skirt, and I'll tell you a tale.

When I was young and naive, I used to think that I could go gallivanting about the open country with nothing to protect my weakly pink skin but the clothes on my back and the flimsy arm hair left to me after years of evolution and of course the consequences were sometimes dire.
I remember one particular occasion when I toasted my back after a day of body surfing at Huntington Beach. "It is cloudy..." I said. My logic was clearly poor (pronounced poo-er, a la Eric and now Trevor... has anyone noticed?) and I spent the rest of our vacation applying the cooling balm of alcohol free aloe and the like.
However, after years of maturation and growth I am pleased to report that I have since kept myself burn-free-- at least extreme burn-free-- until now.





It was a cool July morning when I woke up at the crack of dawn to travel to the base of Timpanogos mountain and attempt the 9 hour extravaganza to its peak and back. It was beautiful. Truly, after the last few wisps of the sleep demon had gone, I was glad that I was up where the sun had only come up "over there" and the mountains kept me cool and shaded. Ah, to hike.

And after four and 1/2 hours, we reached the summit.

Here's a view toward Heber where we waved to Dad (perhaps).

I was happy as a clam as we ate the traditional salami and cream cheese and contemplated the surrounding area below. Now, I fancy myself a fairly intelligent person, but on this day I neither proved nor provided evidence toward that fact. As I sat and feasted upon apples and granola bars I willingly forced the lingering feeling that I was getting burned (within an inch of my life) out of my mind*. I could feel it. I knew my skin was no match for the thinning atmosphere. But I decided to spend my time mapping out the valley below with my good friend instead of seeking the much needed (and scarce) shade.

On the way down we traversed the glacier and ventured to Emerald Lake where our two liters of water each ran dry and we met up with our friends, the mountain goats.

After leaving that lovely oasis, however, the hiking adrenaline began to wear off, and the fact that we were tired, thirsty, and--yes--burned to a crisp began to sink in.

As we descended I could feel the eyes of fellow hikers upon me. A couple brave souls even ventured a, "You've been out in the sun, missy!" and I would weakly smile in return, and mumble some lame comment about, "white skin" and "making mistakes". And about a half an hour to the bottom of the trail a friendly group of hikers offered me some sunscreen which I thankfully, and sheepishly, accepted.

After a week of pleasant convalescence (I know I don't have the luxury to tell you how truly awful the healing process was. Suffice it to say, after many days of swollen ankles, aloe, cold baths, and vinegar... I learned my lesson) I spent the next week and a half leaving a nice trail of peeling skin in my wake and repulsing all who associated with me ("I think there's skin in these chips..." and the like).

*Come to think of it, I must have known I was getting slowly toasted because I forgot to sign my name in the log at the top... no one will ever know I made it to the summit... ever... hmmm... I suppose I'll have to make this adventure again, this time with 30 SPF in hand.