I remember my childhood well, because 33 years into my life, I'm still a child at heart. I grew up out in the country, where boys could be boys without disturbing the neighbors. The down side is that the neighbors couldn't hear the boy's screaming. Or was that the up side?
I was out hiking with a friend of mine through the timber and it was getting late. The timber was only a mile square, because all roads where I grew up were square miles, but it seemed like we would never make it home. What do you do, but take a short cut!
The short cut was rougher terrain, and we were both bruised and scratched up, but were making (it seemed) good time. Eventually, we reached the mud cliff.
I don't know how else to describe it. The grass stopped, and there was an almost vertical cliff of mud directly in our way. We didn't look for any alternative, but chose to hit the mud head on. We squirmed up and down that cliff for almost an hour, sweating and grunting the whole time. One of us would get about halfway up, and then the other would watch him slide right back down.
After a time, we were exhausted and sat in the newly-formed mounds of mud at the bottom and started to strategize our approach. My friend looked over, not ten feet from where we sat, where the hill would take us in the same general direction, but was much more stable.
Five minutes later, we were out of the timber and on the road, a short walk from home, a hose down, and a (now cold) supper.
I was out hiking with a friend of mine through the timber and it was getting late. The timber was only a mile square, because all roads where I grew up were square miles, but it seemed like we would never make it home. What do you do, but take a short cut!
The short cut was rougher terrain, and we were both bruised and scratched up, but were making (it seemed) good time. Eventually, we reached the mud cliff.
I don't know how else to describe it. The grass stopped, and there was an almost vertical cliff of mud directly in our way. We didn't look for any alternative, but chose to hit the mud head on. We squirmed up and down that cliff for almost an hour, sweating and grunting the whole time. One of us would get about halfway up, and then the other would watch him slide right back down.
After a time, we were exhausted and sat in the newly-formed mounds of mud at the bottom and started to strategize our approach. My friend looked over, not ten feet from where we sat, where the hill would take us in the same general direction, but was much more stable.
Five minutes later, we were out of the timber and on the road, a short walk from home, a hose down, and a (now cold) supper.
I wouldn't have traded that day for anything.