in before
you leave, will you,” Jack ordered.
“ And a good morning to
you.” I saluted smartly. “Paper. Yes. Yes, sir!”
I left the front door open and walked
down the path. “Now, you wait right there.”
“ Har har,” Jack said to my
back. “You are so funny, and this early in the morning
too.”
“ You aren’t having coffee?”
Mel asked from behind him.
“ The world is coming to an
end!” Jack wailed.
I got the paper off the sidewalk and
headed back to them. “I’ll pick some up at the
Mini-Mart.”
Just to be contrary, I tossed the
paper in the hallway and about-turned, but had second thoughts. I
shouldn’t take out my angst on Jack and Mel. It wasn’t their fault
Royal acted like an ass and our clients scared the life out of me.
I took the paper to the kitchen and spread the pages across the
table.
“ Don’t put yourself out,”
from Jack.
So much for trying to be nice. “I’m
off. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I slapped myself upside the
head. “Oh, that’s right, you can’t.”
I ignored their spluttering and went
out to my Subaru Forrester, noticing the film of dust and bird
droppings, making a mental note to gas up and get a cheap car wash
on the way back.
***
With steam wafting from the plastic
cup I held in one hand, I took a left off Winston and headed up
University Drive. Not a lot of traffic uses the road during the
week, so I had it pretty much to myself. There would be more
traffic, vehicular and foot, when people headed for the east bench
trails on the weekend. University meanders along behind River
Valley University, and I looked down on all the buildings
surrounding little University Park and its tiny pond. Students
scurried on their way to early classes. Most parking spots along
Grafton Avenue were already taken and latecomers would have to
jockey for the few unreserved slots in the parking lots.
Half a mile on, I turned east up
Twenty-Fifth, kept going until the city-maintained road petered out
and became a short dirt road leading to a big parking area. Only
three cars and a motorcycle already there. I parked at the other
end of the lot and sat while I finished my coffee. I took the empty
cup with me when I got out the car, and got my long cane out the
trunk.
I walked across the parking lot to a
break in the fence, tossed the cup in the trash bin and started up
the trail. I hesitated at the first fork, trying to decide whether
to carry on up to Merlin Point or head south to Waterfall Canyon.
This early in the morning there would, hopefully, be few cyclists
on the Merlin Point trail.
Hikers and bikers are supposed to
share the trails. They are narrow, steep, and obstacles include
rocks of all sizes sticking up and craters inches deep where
they’ve come loose and rolled on down the mountainside, thick roots
snaking across, and washouts from the spring thaw. Oh, and don’t
forget branches from trees too stubborn to know they shouldn’t be
trying to cling to a mountainside. Much of the trail has rock-face
on one side and a sheer drop on the other once you get above the
benches. And, no, there are no safety rails. Hikers are supposed to
have right-of-way, but mountain bikers get riled if you get in
front of their wild, downward descent. You can argue with a cyclist
- something I’d rather not do on a trail three-feet-wide - or
plaster yourself to the rock-face so they can pass without
stopping.
So, onward to Merlin Point. I walked
up the steeply sloping trail with one eye on the ground so I didn’t
stub my toe on a rock, the other on the look-out for cyclists,
although this far down I could step to the side and not end up in a
bush, or teetering on the edge. The sun beat down on me and little
drops of perspiration popped out on my forehead. I should have worn
a hat. Mountain sunlight is harsh, the air thin, and unless you’re
acclimated you soon feel worn out. Many a visitor to our mountain
valley wonders why they get so tired all the time.
I paused
you leave, will you,” Jack ordered.
“ And a good morning to
you.” I saluted smartly. “Paper. Yes. Yes, sir!”
I left the front door open and walked
down the path. “Now, you wait right there.”
“ Har har,” Jack said to my
back. “You are so funny, and this early in the morning
too.”
“ You aren’t having coffee?”
Mel asked from behind him.
“ The world is coming to an
end!” Jack wailed.
I got the paper off the sidewalk and
headed back to them. “I’ll pick some up at the
Mini-Mart.”
Just to be contrary, I tossed the
paper in the hallway and about-turned, but had second thoughts. I
shouldn’t take out my angst on Jack and Mel. It wasn’t their fault
Royal acted like an ass and our clients scared the life out of me.
I took the paper to the kitchen and spread the pages across the
table.
“ Don’t put yourself out,”
from Jack.
So much for trying to be nice. “I’m
off. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I slapped myself upside the
head. “Oh, that’s right, you can’t.”
I ignored their spluttering and went
out to my Subaru Forrester, noticing the film of dust and bird
droppings, making a mental note to gas up and get a cheap car wash
on the way back.
***
With steam wafting from the plastic
cup I held in one hand, I took a left off Winston and headed up
University Drive. Not a lot of traffic uses the road during the
week, so I had it pretty much to myself. There would be more
traffic, vehicular and foot, when people headed for the east bench
trails on the weekend. University meanders along behind River
Valley University, and I looked down on all the buildings
surrounding little University Park and its tiny pond. Students
scurried on their way to early classes. Most parking spots along
Grafton Avenue were already taken and latecomers would have to
jockey for the few unreserved slots in the parking lots.
Half a mile on, I turned east up
Twenty-Fifth, kept going until the city-maintained road petered out
and became a short dirt road leading to a big parking area. Only
three cars and a motorcycle already there. I parked at the other
end of the lot and sat while I finished my coffee. I took the empty
cup with me when I got out the car, and got my long cane out the
trunk.
I walked across the parking lot to a
break in the fence, tossed the cup in the trash bin and started up
the trail. I hesitated at the first fork, trying to decide whether
to carry on up to Merlin Point or head south to Waterfall Canyon.
This early in the morning there would, hopefully, be few cyclists
on the Merlin Point trail.
Hikers and bikers are supposed to
share the trails. They are narrow, steep, and obstacles include
rocks of all sizes sticking up and craters inches deep where
they’ve come loose and rolled on down the mountainside, thick roots
snaking across, and washouts from the spring thaw. Oh, and don’t
forget branches from trees too stubborn to know they shouldn’t be
trying to cling to a mountainside. Much of the trail has rock-face
on one side and a sheer drop on the other once you get above the
benches. And, no, there are no safety rails. Hikers are supposed to
have right-of-way, but mountain bikers get riled if you get in
front of their wild, downward descent. You can argue with a cyclist
- something I’d rather not do on a trail three-feet-wide - or
plaster yourself to the rock-face so they can pass without
stopping.
So, onward to Merlin Point. I walked
up the steeply sloping trail with one eye on the ground so I didn’t
stub my toe on a rock, the other on the look-out for cyclists,
although this far down I could step to the side and not end up in a
bush, or teetering on the edge. The sun beat down on me and little
drops of perspiration popped out on my forehead. I should have worn
a hat. Mountain sunlight is harsh, the air thin, and unless you’re
acclimated you soon feel worn out. Many a visitor to our mountain
valley wonders why they get so tired all the time.
I paused
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