Our day of sightseeing took us to a lake on the outskirts of town. The area included hills sprinkled with giant boulders that were just waiting to be climbed, and it wasn’t long before Burch and I were leading an expedition to the top of the most prominent one. At some point along the way I lost burch, cut myself, started bleeding, and decided it was best to forgo my illusions of grandeur and stay below to await the more successful climbers in our group. At about the time I found my way back to a shady place to rest Burch was yelling from the top of the highest boulder and asked me to take a picture, a request which I dutifully obliged.
It turns out after about another half hour of rest word came that Burch could not get down. To make matters more interesting a wildfire that we noticed in the distance before had suddenly started to approach with discomforting speed. My attempts to help weren’t very fruitful – by the time I got to the base of the boulder where Burch was stuck (after falling twice myself) two others of our group had already arrived and were helping him down. This freed me to take some photos, which I did with gusto. Luckily the fire waited long enough for us to evacuate in the car, although we did find out it was indeed wild after the park guards asked us if we had any information about who set it. So much for a nice hike in the park…
Burch, the comeuppance:
The intrepid hiking gang: