It’s a strange thing, sometimes, the lengths we’re willing to go to in order to and the danger (however minimal) we’re willing to undertake in order to have something we want.
This morning was warmish and humid, with occasional spitting rain… and once to the top of the Bluff, strong winds. With the rain gear on and the sleeve for the camera in the backpack, the weather wasn’t going to be a bother. But…!
Do you remember, once upon a time, I’d mentioned that taking the liners out of my winter boots created a variety of waterproof galoshes over my shoes? Today, I was planning to walk the long trail and so I didn’t bother putting my shoes on when I slid my feet into my boots. No, I was still wearing my fuzzy slippers.
What? They’re comfortable, warm, soft, bulky enough to take up much of the available space inside the boot, and it’s not as if you need the extra rigidity of a shoe when the boots themselves have nice thick tread. And the slippers don’t scrape up the interior of the boot as much as the tennis shoes do. And it’s not as if I was going anywhere other than the Bluff! So why shouldn’t I wear my slippers?
Anyhow. On reaching the area where the trail splits, one fork to the South Trail and the other leading to the Midland and North Trails, I’d actually started down the South Trail when the thought of lightning intruded.
I’m sure you can guess what happened next! And yes, I soon found myself taking the short trail, the rock-climbing route with all its loose stones, treacherous mud and obscuring greenery in my oversize, clumsy boots.
Knowing from experience the entire time that the chances of capturing a streak of lightning were far less than likely, both because of the growing light of day and the eastward movement of the active cell of the storm.
Nope. Didn’t even see any lightning up there. But I did get to the top safely. And the second time the wind pushed the tripod over, my winter hat cushioned the blow when the clamp of the tripod impacted my head.