I started this entry on October 2, but just never got around to posting it.
*****
Yesterday, I went hiking with my family. This was only after much drama, involving tears, peanut butter sandwiches and making my husband tell me he wanted me to go. If only I had know what I was getting into.
You see, the weekend before, The Artist had gone with Ted and Phil to Ape Caves near Mount St. Helens, and they wanted us to go check it out, too.
It started fine enough with a good uphill hike of about 1 1/2 miles. I'm fat and out of shape, so I panted some, but the sun was out, the sky was blue, etc.
We passed a lot of families on the trail because apparently most go up through the lava tube and then back to their cars by surface trail. Seeing all those kids, as well as a pregnant woman and a guy with a toddler in a backpack, made me pretty confident that I could handle the cave. But once we got to the entrance I was a little apprehensive. It was a hole. A small hole. And dark.
Once inside, you begin to understand what dark really is. I didn't have a flashlight, since I threw a tantrum about not going in the first place, but The Magician had three and gave me the worst one of the bunch. Once I had whined enough, I was given a good light and things were somewhat better. The floor to the cave was rough and I wished I had hiking boots instead of "running" shoes (no running has ever been performed by this footwear). But it seemed managable. Then, out of the darkest darkness loomed a huge pile of boulders. That I had to climb over. And then another pile and more and more and more. We passed several groups who asked breathlessly "how much farther!?" I knew it was too early to ask the same question.
At one point we got to a narrow passage with a seven or eight foot drop. There was a bottleneck of German-speaking spelunkers trying to get up what was once a lava waterfall. We had to figure out how to get down it. Eight feet doesn't seem so far to just hang and drop, but at the bottom was sharp, boot cutting lava rocks. The Artist was volunteered to go first and then catch each of us as we shimmied off the edge. Very scary. For him.
It took us about two and a half hours to get through the lava tube. I was so glad that we had Ted with us (his nickname from many years ago is The Goat!)to keep an eye on the kids while The Artist helped me through the adventure. The kids tended to want to venture too far ahead for safety and several times we had to ask them to slow down, little cave monkeys!
I slept in the car on the way home and crawled into bed with my clothes on as soon as we were there. Exhaustion. But The Artist claimed I needed to gently stretch my sore muscles, rather than spending 12 hours sleeping in one fetal position. So I struggled to the shower and then down to the bar. The next day I was sure I wasn't getting out of bed, since my back hurt so much. But I had a conference call, so I did. And actually my back felt fine by mid-afternoon, but my thighs were so sore that I could hardly lower myself to my office chair.
UPDATE
Could strenuous excercise be something like childbirth? It's been nearly a month and I've already forgotten how fucking difficult this hike was--and I could probably be talked into doing it again.
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