Mountains, baby!. I'm a long way from Northwest Ohio, I'll tell you that much. Where I come from, the tallest point within two hundred miles is an enormous garbage pile, and people get so excited that they ski down it! Maybe the runoff from Mt. Brighton is why we can't eat the fish from Lake Erie.
Anyway, last weekend we were in the Pyrenees building teams or something and we devoted an entire day to a hike through 20 kilometers of canyon territory. The hike pace was grueling. Silas died of snake bite and Marvin was ill with typhoid fever. 
Marat ran out of bullets. Jermaine killed 842 pounds of meat but could only carry back 100. We thought about floating across the deep river, but if you have any balls, you ford it. Half of our supplies were lost in the effort, including a wagon wheel. And that was only the first half hour.
Despite the constant action, I managed to slip away and snap some photos on my digimon digital camera.
The Pyrenees were formed by glaciers, so in certain places they have large, U-shaped valleys where supple, delicious grass grows.
The Ara River winds through the Pyrenees. It is full of supplies and handicrafts from failed ford attempts.
It's not uncommon to see clouds in Spain.
We kicked Silas hard in the stomach, but our primitive knowledge of medicine did not help him. This was his last view.
Finally, I captured the precise moment when the hawk unleashes a brilliant rainbow from its hawk soul.
Boo captured on film for the first time.
We could so ford this.
Spain and France are neighbors, which makes them enemies. On the other side of this pass is France, and if you show up in the first town you see speaking anything but French, they'll kick you back over the mountains. To be honest, they'd probably just smoke cigarettes and not talk to you, even if you had 100 pounds of meat.
Our destination was this bridge, where we sat on the grassy knoll and thought about our Spanish dreams. Just underneath the bridge, the water is deep enough to swim in. All the Spaniards were swimming there, so we did too. That fresh mountain water was about 50 degrees Kelvin, effectively turning our bullets into buckshot. With frozen pride, we hitched the wagons and headed for home.
3 comments:
Oh the misguided attempt of someone whose knowledge of local geography ranks with that of pungent red algae, Mt. Brighton is in the questionably relevant state of Michigan which does not qualify as "Northwest Ohio" unless you revert to the 1800's. The reference to a pile of garbage fits well though. Does Spain lob its garbage into France with giant Pyrenees slingshots? The French probably serve it with their snails and frogs as decorative garnish or the dreaded "Mixed Vegetable of the Day" Nice pics, were they actually taken on the trek or cut from cheap postcards sold for a pittance by street urchins? The Hawk continues its majestic spiritual presence, or is it equipped with high-tech visual fiber optic and computerized motion components which make it eligible for the Masters program in supply chain/aerospace management? Never a dull moment for Spanish Nate tho' we're beginning to wonder if this wasn't a well-planned ruse for an extended vacation and jumping-off point for covert euro-adventure. Once J Amato arrives the plot will thicken as will the swill.
You always ford it
---dizzle
i @$#^%& the business model. she had all kinds of orgasams.
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