1,030. That’s how many steps I took on my way from the railroad bridge to the condemned overpass this side of Berthoud. On the tracks. Without falling. Kind of.
My goal was to walk the distance without falling off the railroad track. I did it with 4 falls, 2, then 1 over the past couple of weeks. Yesterday I took 1,030 steps on the track(s).
At about 960 I started to fall, so I jumped to the other track. Quickly jumped back, took 2 or 3 awkward steps, jumped back to the other rail. I don’t know how many times I had to jump back and forth before I regained composure and finished the walk to the bridge without touching the dirt of planet Earth.
The science teacher at Campion invited me to help set routes on the school’s wall this summer. Nice. I’ll be feeding his dog for a week while he’s at camp meeting in Utah. FYI.
I just got 3 more bottles of G.T.’s Kombucha. I’d love to share them. Party, my place. Wild and furry. Feel the fury. Guilty of pleasure says the Good Times Jury. The door’s always open; no need to hurry.
One of the fox kits died. I found its body yesterday. Dumb. I swore. I don’t swear very much. Very little. Mostly when creatures die or when I’m climbing.
Or when my wife hasn’t come home yet. Counting down.
And here’s a pic of Dean on Delicate Arch, whereupon a new rule was set in motion which will “ban climbing of any named arches or natural bridges in the park.”
(go look at more of John Hoffmann’s photography)