Monte Sano Strikes Back- Part 1
In our last few editions, you've got to join us in celebrating our defeat of our old nemeses, the hobbits and the evil mountain they call their home, Monte Sano. But you knew it couldn't end there, right? Of course not. Like every demonically possessed horror movie franchisee in history, Monte Sano rose from certain death to terrorize again.
Actually, it was completely our fault. Someone once said "doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results is the definition of insanity." We just call it The Zen Bassmaster Way.
All this began several weeks ago at the Finger Lickin' Chicken event. We were talking to noted hobbit sympathizer Rick618, who mentioned that he had a hike event planned on November 11. We talked to him about it and it sounded interesting enough. Civil War history, a few caches, nice wagon trails Rick told us. Keep that word in mind. Wagon trails. It'll come up later.
He then says something to the effect of "I'm surprised you'd want to hike with a bunch of hobbit sympathizers..." A challenge. We couldn't possibly turn down a challenge like that from a hobbit lover. And they knew that. Clue #1...
Fast forward to Saturday. It's cold. Very cold. It's misting rain. We envision a slippery trail. Do we turn back? Of course not. We're Zen Bassmasters, and Zen Bassmasters equals "not too bright".
We arrive at the land trust parking and notice that there are an awful lot of familiar faces there of the hobbit-y variety. And they all seem amused to see us. Clue #2. But our danger sense was frozen in the cold and we thought nothing of it. Fortunately, there were also some friendly faces, including Saintseester and her daughter, complete with Pink Walking Stick of Doom!! Saintseester is a regular reader of the blog and always has nice comments so we were thrilled to put a face to the name. The pink walking stick was impressive as well. You'd certainly never lose it in the woods and, if you got hurt, it's bright enough to signal passing aircraft. Also in attendance was Parrgolf who, despite keeping company with some shady hairfoots, is a pretty good guy. We also met some other find folks like Stephanie2427 who was soon to become my partner in slow. One face we didn't see was Rick's significantly better half and honorary Bassmaster RN2B. This should have also been a clue to us as RN2B probably didn't want to see her fellow Bassmasters lured into the evil hobbit trap.
After an informative, if COLD, discussion about the Landtrust and the history of the Bushwhacker Johnson trail, we set off. Very early on in the trail, we slipped and slid, always on precarious footing. Finally, gravity won its fight with me and I slipped in the mud. I spun in the opposite direction trying to keep myself up but then my other foot slipped and I did the splits. Now I'm sure most of you have never weighed 380 lbs but let me tell you that there's a reason you've never seen a 380 lb man do the splits before. The physics of it are not pretty. And the muscles in both my hamstring and my groin were not appreciative. The move did get me a 10 from all of the assembled "judges", except for Mad Mike, heretofore known as the East German Judge, who insisted it was at most a 7.5 because I didn't "stick" my landing on the back leg. The nerve of some people.
On down the trail a little further, Fish got his moment to "shine" as he slipped and landed square in the mud on his butt. Great. 2 of the three Bassmasters present are now injured, but do we turn around? Of course not. Press on.
Soon after, we noticed Saintseester, her daughter, and even the Pink Walking Stick of DOOM! were gone as well. Apparently she's smarter than we and had gotten out while the getting was good. Since we're not so smart ourselves, we kept moving.
We continued down and I began to lag behind, my hamstring giving me fits. Rick, who had been given charge of ensuring all the sheep made it out alive, hung back and Parrgolf, bless his soul, stayed back as well to make sure no hobbit loving shenanigans happened out of earshot of the group. I mentioned "wagon trails" to Rick, along with the fact that I would like to see the wagon that would make it down the mountain. He just smiled knowingly and waited for me to die.
Finally, we made it down to the spring where Bushwhacker Johnson surrendered. We felt pretty good, despite a couple of injuries. Maybe we'll make it out of this hobbit trap alive yet. It was then that a nice fellow reminded us that the mile and a half we just did was only a small part of the battle. Once again, Monte Sano had teamed up with our old enemy gravity to try and defeat us.
But that's a story for another day.
See you then.