And Aloha means goodbye

We decided to go backpacking this weekend. It's something Marc and I used to do often, but as time and life have marched on, we've had less and less time to trot off into the wilderness.

But this weekend, we said "SUCK IT" to all of our engagements, loaded up our packs and hiked some six or so miles back into Aloha Lake. Several blisters later, we arrived and were rewarded with amazing views, a balmy evening and a bottle of wine that made it into the back country, unscathed, and fell down our throats with alarming swiftness. (We get it done, people, even away from civilization).

Neither of us slept well. Marc was ravaged by mosquitoes and I was plagued by my old friend, insomnia. Kylie, however, had no such problems. She slept for most of the afternoon and then took the night hours to explore, chasing other nocturnal creatures, frisking about on the shore of the lake, and, as luck would have it, rolling in bear poop. She felt like sharing the poop, nudging each of us separately out of sleep, smearing the scat on either our sleeping bags, or in my case, my face. Sweet. It's not a great way to wake up, especially when you know that a shower is many LONG hours away.

But the above image is what I woke up to Sunday morning. So despite the aura of bear shit, lack of sleep and incessant dust, the view made it all worthwhile. We plodded out by lunch, weary, with a fine layer of grime over everything. Kylie will sleep for days, possibly dreaming of the chipmunks which are still giving her the finger and mocking her from their hiding places. I'll be walking around gingerly on a tender knee and several blisters and Marc will complain about the sheer amount of laundry that comes from a 24 hour trip. And then we'll start planning the next one.