I still have to figure out how to post pictures so I can share a TR from a great summer adventure on the Benson Loop. Would not have happened, and would not have been such a spectacular success (notwithstanding the torrential rain (in the middle of a drought) and sleet storm) without the generosity of those sharing on this forum. I hope to pay it back/forward for others. Until then, I thought I'd share an amusing side-story...
Hiking partner & I are in the first day of a hike we'd been wanting to do for several years, in the northeast corner of Yosemite NP. I thought I remembered a post about someone(s) from this forum potentially being in the same general area. We had just finished lunch (and taking shelter from a brief cloudburst). We walked up from our lunchtime lounging area to rejoin the trail, and two people are coming down the trail. Each one virtually covered head-to-toe with hats, clothing, packs, etc. Smart to stay out of the sun. But wait! - also rain flies on their packs... and they are electric-brilliant-fluorescent-blinding orange: the type of color you can see from space. Wait, think I read about that here too. With more than a little teasing. And those hats! And radios? Could it be? The other member of the party seems to just want to keep on walking, although to where I don't know. Maybe it doesn't even mater - only walking matters... No, that's an almost impossible coincidence. But I can't pass up the chance. But how do I initiate a conversation without ending up in jail? or some form of custody "for my own protection"?
So in the 10 seconds after rejoining the trail, noticing the two hikers coming down the trail, and then freezing right in the middle of the trail, blocking any progress, several ideas crossed my mind in rapid sequence:
1) Do you have a pink bird with you?
2) Are you a chicken?
3) Did you bring a boat with you?
4) Have you walked every trail mile in this park?
5) Do you know a guy with a stuffed gray parrot?
No, these were all too risky. But I had to say *something*. In desperation, all I could blurt out was... (wait for it):
"Do you like Twinkies?"
I paused for the flash of pain after being hit in the face. I may have flinched or squinted. But no; no pain, no fist to the mouth. No barrage of insults, questioning my sanity, manhood, my right to occupy space on the planet. I looked up. From under the giant hat, from behind the impenetrably-dark glacier glasses, a big Cheshire-cat grin grew until I saw a shark's mouthful of teeth: "I loooove Twinkies!".
So, that's my story. And that's my advice on how one accosts a chick-on in the backcountry. Without losing any teeth.
:-)
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 01/11/2017 09:26PM by ags.