In Which I Hike to Avoid the News
Oct. 7th, 2018 06:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shannon_aThe last two weeks of news have been devastating. I thought that I could not be more disgusted by my country, than when that asshole Trump had us stop accepting Muslim immigrants. It went against everything our country stands for while pandering to the racists and xenophobes who don't deserve to call themselves Americans.
But then the Republicans in the Senate spent two weeks putting on a sham confirmation hearing, where they never cared about the fact that their nominee had been very credibly accused of being a rapist. (And an overprivileged rich white asshole who thinks that he deserves everything, including a seat on the Supreme Court.) We talked about it some at RWOT and I'd say I was on the verge of tears, but there was no verge about it. I wept not just for our country but the millions that the Republicans damaged in their faux confirmation by ripping open the wounds of every assault victim in the country.
Now, the Supreme Court is tainted by Kavanagh's illegitimacy and our legislature is tainted by 20 years of the Republicans manipulating and perverting it and our country is headed to a very, very dark place. We all hope and pray that we can limit the damage by overcoming the Republican's manipulated and gerrymandered House majorities this November and even more than we can somehow manage to take the Senate from them, to prevent Trump from putting even more monsters into the courts in the next two years.
But it's a dark time.
So, I was happy to hike on Saturday, to get far away from the news, to sweat away my concerns under the blazing sun east of the hills.
I went out to Las Trampas, which is quite a ways, requiring a BART ride and a bike ride.
It was a nice park, full of hills and canyons like a lot of the parks that side of the hills. But it was also quite bountiful with trees, something rarer over that way. The valleys and hillsides alike had a lot of cover, and they were that much more attractive for it.
I did a big hike from the northeast corner to the southwest-ish, via a couple of the highest peaks: Eagle Peak (1720 ft.) and Vail Peak (1787 ft.). I got all the way to the top of Eagle Peak and took some panoramics, but afterward was happy just to walk by Vail Peak, especially since there'd been a big downhill between the two.
The only problems with the hike came about near the picnic areas, which was my turnaround.
First up, I was walking up the Bollinger Creek Loop Trail and saw a huge mass of excitedly chattering people ahead of me. Totally blocking the trail and not getting out of my way. I could see a park guide was with them as I neared. A young woman begins chattering at me as I approach. She acts like it's Christmas Day or something, and she's just gotten an unexpected and thrilling present. Pointing at a log off the trail, past a railing, she says, "There's a RATTLESNAKE over there, and we keep hearing it and we can't see it." (I don't respond, "Thank god for that," but it definitely runs through my head.)
I get as far over to the other side of the trail as I can, putting all those meat shields between myself and the hidden rattlesnake and start pushing through the group, as I'm not stupid enough to stand around agog while a rattlesnake sits just a few feet away. We all start hearing a rattling sound, amplified by the hollowness of the log, and I think, "That's one pissed-off rattler." "There it is, there it is," says Christmas girl. And everyone else in the group is going "sssshhhh", "sssshhh", because the priority is apparently to hear the snake, not get the hell away. Someone needs to tell them that a rattlesnake can spring two or three times its length.
Not me, though. I'm suddenly confronting a kid who's just dumbly standing there and not moving out of my way at all. I physically push past him and he finally notices he's in the way and apologizes. Apparently hes' hypnotized by the rattle. Then I'm past the rattlesnake fodder. As I keep walking toward the picnic grounds, I'm waiting to see if one of them is going to coming running up behind me, shrieking, with an angry rattlesnake attached to his face.
(It never happens.)
The second problem is lower key but more annoying. There's a sign at the picnic area saying there's no water available until they finish repairs. Great. I take my last small swig of water, which had been carefully timed for this leg of the trip, and walk almost two hours back without any more water. At least the day's cooled down.
Overall, it's a nice hike, and sure enough it keeps me busy so that I don't even think to look until the late afternoon to see that indeed, we've confirmed a rapist to a seat on the Supreme Court.
Go us.
But then the Republicans in the Senate spent two weeks putting on a sham confirmation hearing, where they never cared about the fact that their nominee had been very credibly accused of being a rapist. (And an overprivileged rich white asshole who thinks that he deserves everything, including a seat on the Supreme Court.) We talked about it some at RWOT and I'd say I was on the verge of tears, but there was no verge about it. I wept not just for our country but the millions that the Republicans damaged in their faux confirmation by ripping open the wounds of every assault victim in the country.
Now, the Supreme Court is tainted by Kavanagh's illegitimacy and our legislature is tainted by 20 years of the Republicans manipulating and perverting it and our country is headed to a very, very dark place. We all hope and pray that we can limit the damage by overcoming the Republican's manipulated and gerrymandered House majorities this November and even more than we can somehow manage to take the Senate from them, to prevent Trump from putting even more monsters into the courts in the next two years.
But it's a dark time.
So, I was happy to hike on Saturday, to get far away from the news, to sweat away my concerns under the blazing sun east of the hills.
I went out to Las Trampas, which is quite a ways, requiring a BART ride and a bike ride.
It was a nice park, full of hills and canyons like a lot of the parks that side of the hills. But it was also quite bountiful with trees, something rarer over that way. The valleys and hillsides alike had a lot of cover, and they were that much more attractive for it.
I did a big hike from the northeast corner to the southwest-ish, via a couple of the highest peaks: Eagle Peak (1720 ft.) and Vail Peak (1787 ft.). I got all the way to the top of Eagle Peak and took some panoramics, but afterward was happy just to walk by Vail Peak, especially since there'd been a big downhill between the two.
The only problems with the hike came about near the picnic areas, which was my turnaround.
First up, I was walking up the Bollinger Creek Loop Trail and saw a huge mass of excitedly chattering people ahead of me. Totally blocking the trail and not getting out of my way. I could see a park guide was with them as I neared. A young woman begins chattering at me as I approach. She acts like it's Christmas Day or something, and she's just gotten an unexpected and thrilling present. Pointing at a log off the trail, past a railing, she says, "There's a RATTLESNAKE over there, and we keep hearing it and we can't see it." (I don't respond, "Thank god for that," but it definitely runs through my head.)
I get as far over to the other side of the trail as I can, putting all those meat shields between myself and the hidden rattlesnake and start pushing through the group, as I'm not stupid enough to stand around agog while a rattlesnake sits just a few feet away. We all start hearing a rattling sound, amplified by the hollowness of the log, and I think, "That's one pissed-off rattler." "There it is, there it is," says Christmas girl. And everyone else in the group is going "sssshhhh", "sssshhh", because the priority is apparently to hear the snake, not get the hell away. Someone needs to tell them that a rattlesnake can spring two or three times its length.
Not me, though. I'm suddenly confronting a kid who's just dumbly standing there and not moving out of my way at all. I physically push past him and he finally notices he's in the way and apologizes. Apparently hes' hypnotized by the rattle. Then I'm past the rattlesnake fodder. As I keep walking toward the picnic grounds, I'm waiting to see if one of them is going to coming running up behind me, shrieking, with an angry rattlesnake attached to his face.
(It never happens.)
The second problem is lower key but more annoying. There's a sign at the picnic area saying there's no water available until they finish repairs. Great. I take my last small swig of water, which had been carefully timed for this leg of the trip, and walk almost two hours back without any more water. At least the day's cooled down.
Overall, it's a nice hike, and sure enough it keeps me busy so that I don't even think to look until the late afternoon to see that indeed, we've confirmed a rapist to a seat on the Supreme Court.
Go us.