#the sierra nevada mountains in the middle of winter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nuagederose · 2 years

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kinktober 2022 // day twenty-four: cosa del pantano prompt: outdoor sex + passionate sex (courtesy of @the-purity-pen) pairings: eric/florence + eric/alex (flowers for alexander) also on ao3 💋

*based on the first and only time i ever got to go to yosemite, too, way back in 2005. i’m definitely due for another visit 😉

A light rain had just rolled into the hills that surrounded Yosemite Valley as the three of them rolled in from the western side. La Grange was only a mile up, while Coulterville only stood about another fourteen miles up the road through those thick dark trees that reached up towards the sky as nature’s skyscrapers, but the sheer number of switchbacks with the definite elevation changes up the road before them made Alex wonder if it was even further away from there. Eric was driving, while Florence stayed upright in the passenger seat and Alex lounged in the middle of the back seat; she was seven and a half months pregnant, and her sweater had grown slightly snug against her bump. Both men were hungry and tired from the amount of driving they had done from the heart of the Bay Area; at the same time, they had gone out so as to escape from everything that had been going down back over there.

Eric had been reluctant to leave the Bay Area for the mountains so soon before Florence’s due date, and with it still being well inside of the thick of winter as well: at least they weren’t about to drive in from the northeastern side of the valley and along that narrow two-lane road over there. But she had insisted, especially with Yosemite being one of the few places left in California that lacked the steam power as well as any signs of civilization. Every so often, he glanced over at her and showed her a little smile.

“How are you holding up?” he asked her as they passed through La Grange.

“We’re doing alright,” Florence told him with a gentle caress of her bump.

Even though he only had a slight view of her from the side, Alex swallowed at the sight of her. To think that they had once been a couple, and yet he didn’t want to think about it, especially with her being pregnant with Eric’s baby and the invasion on their doorstep. He had to be with them there in Yosemite lest one of the animatrons take him and tie him up to the nearest boiler only for him to turn to metal and steam himself.

Eric took a glimpse into the rear-view mirror over his head.

“How ‘bout you, Alex?” he called back to him. “How are you doing? Getting enough heat back there?”

“Oh, yes, I am quite comfortable back here,” Alex assured him with a gentle nod of his head and a nervous smile on his face.

Though it was still the middle of February, the chill of winter seemed to linger away from the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains before them. There had to have been only a few inches of snow on the ground outside of the car, sparse piles that lined the sides of the road like little white puddles embedded in pockets of the earth. The sun fought to break through the swift-moving clouds overhead, and as a result, Alex knew that more snow was upon them, especially with the graze of light rain on the roof and on the windows. He shivered and brought his arms closer to his little body from the chilled feeling through the glass.

If anything, he was more tired and hungry than feeling cold. They had left the Bay Area at the first peek of dawn over the eastern side of the Central Valley, and yet, they had managed to reach the hills at after twelve in the afternoon; the fact they had a pregnant woman in the front seat only added more onto the time, not that Florence was to blame however. He was eager to pitch the tent at the campground underneath the sheer vertical drop of El Capitan and then crawl underneath his sleeping bag after a hearty dinner. But then again, he was unsure if that would even happen, given they knew that the road rose high up into the mountains before them once they had cleared the hills and the snow was upon them at the end of it all.

They passed the two Don Pedro Lakes on either side of the road: those glassy black waters sent even more chills down Alex’s spine and down his arms. Though the heater blasted the car with rich warm air, he carried a deep chill inside of him at the mere sight of the water out there. He knew the snow was upon them all from the wisps of steam off of the surfaces of the lakes, as if it beckoned the very beginning of the lake effect.

The road swept through the low foothills all around them like the blackest snake in the thick of the trees. Alex kept his arms knitted close to his body and his knees pressed close together from that deep chill. He divided his attention between the side of Eric’s head and the vast stretches of cold wilderness out there beyond either side of the road. That smooth blanket of black hair down around the curvature of Eric’s shoulder and over his upper arm like a smooth wash of ink. There had been plenty of moments abound in which Alex would run his fingers through that smooth black hair all for a whiff of it at the roots, and he had done the same unto Francine at one point, but he nonetheless always came back to Eric.

Every time that Eric flipped his hair back and he returned his attention to the road before them, Alex kept a close watch on the side of his head as well as that smooth, slightly thick neck of his: where Alex had that fine, slender neck and skin as silken as porcelain, Eric looked as though he worked out hard enough for a fine sculpting of his neck, and Alex often thought of planting the softest of nibbles there, especially on the base.

He was growing hungrier with each and every passing mile, especially since he hadn’t eaten anything since well before they left the Bay Area: Modesto was rationing food and thus, there was no way that he could do anything about that. About a mile before they reached the proverbial dent in the road that was Coulterville, he rested his hands on his stomach. Add to this, not only was he hungry but Florence had made the mistake of packing the water in the cooler in the way back part of the car.

A turn to the left and a straight shot up to the next turn off, which in turn would take them into the northern side of Yosemite Valley. Though this particular part of the mountains remained down low against the actual mountains, Alex shivered even more. The rain picked up once the signs for Yosemite Junction as well as the way up to Sonora entered their view, and thus was their cue to hang that next right to that infamous winding highway to the northern side of the valley: infamous in a sense that it rose higher and higher over on the northeastern side of the park, until it became the highest road in the state of California.

But at the moment, it was nothing more than a series of annoying coils and turns in the road before them. It didn’t help matters that Florence held onto the handle over her head with her right hand and the dashboard before her with her left hand as if she was about to go flying off of the seat. Eric slowed to a crawl at one point and she gritted her teeth and knitted her knees together, even though their unborn child still had plenty of time to go in the meantime.

“Why did we have to go this way?” Florence groaned out as she gripped onto the handle once again with both hands. “We should’ve kept going up the turn off until we reached Yosemite Junction again and then looped around.”

“And go over Sonora Pass?” Eric gaped at her. “I don’t think so.”

“Sonora and then Tioga Pass, too,” Alex added; he flashed on them getting stuck over on the northeastern side of the park, and they would have to huddle to keep warm all the while. “Tioga’s probably not even open, either.”

“I guarantee it’s closed,” Eric said with a clearing of his throat. “It’s high up enough and we got a lot of snow this year.”

Florence let out a low whistle as they rounded another hard curve in the road, one lined with a high and vast rock wall to the left. Alex craned his neck a bit in time to see her set her free hand on her bump as if she was trying to steady herself from the pull of the car against the corner.

“Are you okay?” Eric asked her as the road straightened out again. Another curve around the bend, that time to the left, and she let out a low moan from the pull of the gravity against her.

“I think that was the last one,” Alex told him.

“I hope so, too,” Eric replied as he drummed his fingers on the rim of the steering wheel. Florence groaned from the pain.

“What is it?” Eric asked her out of concern. “Where’s the pain?”

“It’s my back and my hips,” she said. “The baby’s fine, but the car going around the corners is putting so much pressure on my back and my hipbones, though.” She shifted her weight from the pain; Alex nibbled on his bottom lip and he lifted up his arms and rested them onto the back of the seats. Florence breathed harder from the aches and pains in her body; she shifted her weight again, that time to put her back into the actual seat part, and she rested her knee against the inside of the dashboard. She let out a low whistle and hitched herself up into the seat. She tried to lean back in the seat and the car slowed down a bit.

“What are you doing?” Florence asked him with a soft moan and groan from the back of her throat.

“Let’s pull over here,” Eric quipped right then. “I’m worried you’re going to pass out or something.”

They reached the thick stripe of dark dirt on the side of the road, underneath a long line of trees at the base of the next row of rising mountaintops before them. Florence raised her hands up to the ceiling over her head and tilted her head back against the headrest. She closed her eyes and let out a low whistle from the feeling in her body.

“It’s going to be some time before the road reaches the park, too,” Eric told her. “Like it descends down into the valley and then around the base of El Capitan. It's going to be some time before we reach the campground and pitch up the tent.”

Florence groaned from the pain in her back and she relaxed the muscles in her back as well as her legs. She let out a low whistle again. Eric folded his arms over the top of the steering wheel and kept his gaze fixed upon her.

Alex peered out the window to the left, just as the clouds swirled across the sky over them. A thick dark patch over them caught his attention in particular: as soon as he saw it, a few drops of rain fell down over the driver’s side of the car again.

“It’s raining,” Alex decreed.

“What?” Florence asked him, taken aback.

“It’s raining—and it’s starting to feel really cold, too,” he replied with a shiver.

“Oh, no,” she blurted out. “Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Eric ensured her.

“No, it’s not. When it starts raining and it’s this cold, it usually means it’s going to snow soon, you guys. We can’t afford snow!”

“Well, we can’t afford you having this baby prematurely when the closest major town from here is Sonora,” Eric pointed out, “and we have to go back down those curves just to get there.”

“I’m not having the baby!” Florence exclaimed. “I’m just in pain because the car was pulling on me whenever we went around a corner back there.” She whistled again and she sat upright that time. She never moved a muscle there in the seat for a whole minute. The rain pattered down on the car rooftop in quiet succession: Alex shivered again and he knew that, through the hormones that ran through her body, there was in fact a bit of truth to what Florence had said right then.

“Are you feeling alright?” Eric asked her.

“Yes,” she replied in a low voice, and she shifted her weight yet again. “Let’s get moving.”

Eric drummed his fingers along the rim of the steering wheel and he brought the car back to the road before them. Alex relaxed there in the backseat, still with his arms over the very tops of the seats on either side of him. He let his hair sprawl down over his shoulders like the fine sides of a lion’s mane and his legs extended out before him as far as they could go there in the backseat. There was a part of him that wanted to come on closer to Eric once they had pitched up their tents underneath the towering monolith of El Capitan: their own little room with the view, as Alex ran his fingers down Eric’s chest all while Florence was sound asleep.

Soon, even with the hard pain which persisted in Florence’s body as they rose higher along the roof of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, Alex caught the view of North Dome as well as the sheer drop at the face of Half Dome. The last bit of paradise against a world gone so horribly wrong beyond the border of the highway and the foothills that surrounded Yosemite.

The road led them over the crown of the ridge, and then dropped down towards the valley floor: Eric nodded as the signs for the upcoming Yosemite Village entered their view.

“The campground should be coming up here pretty soon,” he muttered aloud as the highway wound down past El Capitan and down to the floor beneath them. A usual twenty minutes had been elongated out to a whole hour all because of her condition, but it was the only choice that they had on hand. Florence herself, meanwhile, stayed still there in the passenger seat with her hands still rested upon her bump. It was in fact nothing more than the curves in the road that perturbed her, and thus, Eric rested a single hand on the top of her thigh, all to Alex’s chagrin. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and it was right then he could feel the thirst from the very moment they left the Bay Area as it caught up with him.

The literal thirst inside of him, as well as the thirst of flesh against his own, against the pad of his tongue.

The campground resided in a spot of the valley floor near the base of the gigantic monolith surrounded by a series of lush, tall ponderosa pines and evergreens. The first thing that Alex noticed upon their rolling into the grounds was the sign on the side of the driveway that told them to keep everything locked up in the metal boxes right at the edge of their slot on the grounds, otherwise anything aromatic would attract bears.

The rain persisted all around them as the three of them all pitched in to pitching their separate tents, a small one for Alex to have all to himself, and a slightly bigger one for Florence and Eric, right underneath the thickest ponderosa right at the center of the campground.

Once Alex had set up his tent and lay his sleeping bag inside of there, he gazed up at the view of El Capitan as it towered high over their heads, the biggest and thickest monolith that he had ever seen. Indeed, the sheer drop of it as it faced them there sent a shiver down his spine, and yet there was something about the sight of that cold granite before him that made him drop his gaze down to his own waist.

The thirst for flesh against his own as well as the firm feeling between his own legs: he stood there before his tent with his hands pressed to his hips, and he returned his gaze up to the top of El Capitan right as it disappeared into the incoming rain clouds. It was right then that he wished he had brought his camera with him: he knew that with the morning hours, the monolith would be out in the clear, complete with the crisp feeling of the cold having left itself behind, all to accentuate everything. There was also Half Dome and North Dome right behind them, the Three Sisters as well as the town of Wawona off to the southern end of the park, as well as the tall wispy waterfalls that lined the rims of the valley, and the myriad of creatures that roamed throughout the park as well as the valley floor before them.

And yet, more rain was upon them, as he sighed through his nose and he turned back to the entrance of his tent; he bowed inside of there, down on his hands and knees, and his long black curls dangled down to his hands. The hard ground made his kneecaps and his hands ache a bit: a part of him wished to be back in the city, and yet, the aroma of the pine in the rainfall as well as the sight of El Capitan right from the tent doors, as well as the realization that the rain would leave Yosemite refreshed and silent come the morning hours made him question his own thoughts.

He smoothed out the head of his sleeping bag and he set up the bottle of water as well as the little black iron hurricane lantern right next to the pillow, and then he doubled back out of there to help Eric and Florence and to have a round of early dinner given it was already the middle of the afternoon.

“Maybe when the rain clears out tomorrow, we’ll go up to Yosemite Falls and Bridalveil Falls,” Eric was suggesting to her as she unfolded the chairs for all three of them.

“Eric, don’t tell me you’re going to make your wife sleep on the hard ground,” Alex declared, stunned. “I was down on my hands and knees just now and the ground hurt me.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Eric assured him with a shake of his head; his smooth black hair spread down over his shoulder like the actual Yosemite Falls not too far from there. He had this bright twinkle in his brown eyes as well, especially at the mention of Alex being down on his hands and knees. “Remember that blow-up mattress that I asked you to pack?”

“Oh, yeah. Want me to get that?”

“Please. The cooler and the rest of the water, too.” Though it was fleeting, Alex caught yet another little twinkle in Eric’s eye as he walked on over to the car parked right next to the big square brown bear box.

There was something about being on that sprawling valley floor surrounded by the vast stretches of nature and the high stone walls that seemed to extend high up into the darkening sky overhead. The feeling that they were down inside of a hole, and the sheer extent of the monolith and the accompanying rock wall made him feel less than mighty. Francine was also back in the Bay Area and with nothing else to do as well other than the strumming of his own guitar there in the way back part of the car. There wasn’t much to do anyway, not with Florence there with them. He knew that there wasn’t much choice to go about with him as he doubled back to Eric and Florence.

The rain accentuated the pine aroma as well as the feeling that Alex was about to play with fire for the duration of their stay within the campgrounds. He took the blow-up mattress out of the back of the car, still rolled up and with the accompanying pump, and the feeling of it made him think of the feeling of latex against his own skin. Latex to protect from the rain as well as another feeling once he and Eric got alone there, that is if they got alone at any given point.

He was beginning the kindling for a campfire as well as the preparations for dinner. Eric held a long thin campfire match in between his fingers. Though the rain was steady all around them, the small flame rose up over the matchhead.

The dance of fire and water.

He brought the matchhead down to the kindling in the fire pit and the wood smoldered even against the cold of the rain and the cold earth all around them.

Florence nestled down in her folding chair with her windbreaker wrapped around her body and her hands folded over the rise of her bump.

Alex set the mattress down on the ground right next to her.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked her with a slight smile on his face.

“I’m feeling better,” she replied with a wistful sigh. “Hungry, but I'm not in pain so much, though.”

Eric padded over to the picnic table for some more kindling and then Alex leaned in closer to his ex-girlfriend's face.

“You know, if it’s any comfort, I'm in a bit of pain myself,” he whispered into her ear, to which Florence scoffed at him.

“You’re not growing a baby in your belly, big boy,” she taunted him.

“Yeah, but—I'm still in pain, too.” Florence rolled her eyes at that.

“Whatever you say, Alex,” she teased him.

But he told the truth, though: the hard ground underneath his hands and knees left a slight ache in there, plus there was the proverbial pain within him as a result of not having been touched in quite some time. It wasn’t that long of a drive but it had been quite some time since he and Francine had been together, and even more time since he and Eric had had an encounter as well. It was a type of pain, and one that Florence had completely dismissed all on a matter of biology.

Eric returned to them with another small batch of kindling from the little box there under the table, and he added it onto the burgeoning campfire. With a sigh through his nose, Alex doubled back to the car for the cooler full of food: the centerpiece of it all for that night was a box of fried chicken that needed to be heated up through the heat of the fire. As long as it was warm, given the rain picked up all around them: he shivered from the cold wet feeling of the rain upon his hair.

“Make a fire, and you can make life,” Eric declared as the flames began to rise up through the wood down there in the pit.

“Make life as it goes into the pit?” Alex asked him as he set the cooler down on the ground next to him.

“As it goes into the pit, exactly!” Eric burst out laughing at that. He dropped down next to Alex all to fetch the fried chicken and the mashed potatoes out of there and into the open fire. Florence, meanwhile, stayed put as those two young men made dinner for her as the rain came down in droves all around them. Every so often, stray droplets sifted through the branches of the tree overhead, but they were dry for the most part, and the fire helped keep the three of them dry, even if Florence seemed a little less than helpful to them. But Alex sat there at the picnic table right next to Eric, and he watched those spindly hands stick the chicken onto a slender silver skewer for the new round of heat inside: the potatoes would have to be reheated through the base of the small metal pot at the bottom of the cooler, but it was nothing too extreme.

Alex thought of the warmth of Eric’s body against his own, especially as rain water dripped down the sides of his head through the roots of his hair: though he would have the pleasure of a tent all to himself, there was something about the whole thing the more he thought about it.

And it took Alex a second to realize that the rain had completely drenched Florence’s feet, all the way up to her knees. Eric took notice and frowned at the sight of her.

“Babe, you’re soaked,” he declared.

“Yeah, you gotta be freezing,” Alex added. “I’ve been moving around and I'm getting cold.”

“Because you keep moving in and out from under the tree,” Florence told him.

“I’m not that wet, I promise you,” Alex insisted as he nudged a dry lock of hair behind his ear. “Besides, you’re sitting right in front of the fire.” The flames lapped higher inside of the pit there between the two of them.

“But you’re still moving in and out from under the tree,” she pointed out.

“You’re sitting in front of the fire,” he insisted. “Besides, you would think that moving in and out from under the tree would warm me up but I assure you, it isn’t.”

“And I can tell that it isn’t,” she said.

To which Alex frowned at that. Eric even raised an eyebrow at that. An otherwise brilliant woman who worked under the apprenticeship of mechanics and yet her mind was out to lunch from the hormones in her body.

“You can get wet or you can help us out, Florence,” was all Alex could say to that.

“Hey, if you and I were the ones who had gotten married instead, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation right now,” she pointed out with a wag of his finger. Eric gaped at that, but rather than object, he brought the skewers and the potatoes over to the fire pit to cook it under the wash of rain all around them. Alex put his jacket on over his body and then he took his seat in the folding chair across the pit from Florence, all by his lonesome there.

The smell of fried chicken and potatoes swept over them, such that Alex found himself clutching onto his stomach from hunger. Between the bickering between him and Florence and the fact that he hadn’t eaten since that morning, he was eager to eat something and eat something hearty and warming.

His eyes wandered back to the rock wall beyond the campground. He had run into a wall himself, the feeling that nothing he did was good enough or enough to satisfy even himself. His own hunger, his own thirst, plus the thirst that he felt for some more flesh right next to him, all of it left at the top of El Capitan and it came in the form of his ex-girlfriend seated right across of the fire from him. A primarily shy girl who knew a thing or two about fixing cars as well as airships and she seemed to be the Florence whom he used to know through only her name. Maybe it was the change that struck him sideways, but he itched at the feeling of flesh next to him the more time went on, and the more that the smells of the chicken and the potatoes washed over him and left him feeling hungrier and hungrier.

It was driving him insane, until finally Eric reached for a trio of plates on the picnic table. He served Florence first, and she finally shifted her weight there in the chair. She gasped from the cold feeling on her legs, and Alex refrained from saying anything to her.

And then he remembered as to why he and Florence broke up in the first place. Too much ego there, such that it clashed with his own and it resulted in rather heated arguments. He wanted to let it go, especially since she was obviously in a better place with Eric and they were away from the horrors of what was happening to the Bay Area at the moment, but there was so much that she still had to learn and there was so much that he had to learn as well.

And at the same time, he had a tiny sliver of sympathy for Eric, in that he had clicked with her in their meeting together and yet she seemed so nitpicky towards him and the food that he had made up for her. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of the fried chicken.

“Here,” Eric told her with a smile on his face. She rested her hands upon the top of her belly as he brought her a plate full of food.

Alex shifted his weight in the seat as he rested his eyes on the seat of Eric’s pants. All of his desires fusing together to where it all itched at him. Florence was reluctant to take the plate for herself.

“What’s the matter?” Eric asked her.

“Nothing, it’s just—the smell is all,” she replied. Eric sighed through his nose as he turned back to the other side of the fire pit and he reached for the next plate for Alex. Indeed, when he served him two pieces of chicken with those potatoes.

“I’m absolutely starving,” Alex said with a gentle stroke of his stomach. Eric treated him to a warm smile at that. Alex helped himself to the first bite of chicken: though it had been reheated over a campfire, it was juicy and delicious to him. He closed his eyes and cracked a smile at the taste of the salt and the fried part of the chicken.

He paid no attention to Eric and Florence as he delved into it all. If anything, he was the one who had been eating for two rather than her.

Though she finally picked up the fork and she scooped up a bite of potatoes, Alex was eager to help himself to a second helping of chicken and potatoes. He was feeling better almost immediately, especially when Eric took seconds for himself.

Florence picked at her fried chicken, and as a result, Alex and Eric flashed fleeting glimpses at one another. The former showed the latter a little smile, and Eric kept his attention fixed on him. Alex couldn’t say anything about it, especially with Florence right across the lapping flames from them.

But he knew that there had to be a moment later on during their stay in Yosemite. There had to be a moment in which Florence paid no attention to those two guys.

Once Alex and Eric had finished their second helpings, the rain persisted all around them, but the sky darkened with the incoming nightfall. Nightfall came forth, and they were quite a way away from the Village, to boot as well. Unless the rain continued, there was the possibility of bears coming out to graze.

Alex stood up and stretched his arms over his head. Feeling warm and soft inside, he wanted nothing more than to lay down to sleep next to Eric there in that solo tent.

“C’mon, Alex, help me clean up,” Eric advised Alex right then. The two of them picked up their plates to dispose of them; Eric closed the top of the garbage bag and Alex took the rest of the food to the bear box at the edge of their campsite.

Florence, meanwhile, went lay down in the tent closest to the tree once she had barely finished her food. The rain continued over them, although the cold breeze from the sheer drop at the face of El Capitan told them that the snow wasn’t too far away: she was right about one thing, that was for certain.

The fire continued to burn there in the pit before the barren picnic table and Alex and Eric stood before each other. Before he could get a word into him, Eric then rubbed his hands together.

“Shall we turn in for the evening?” he suggested.

“It’s only six o’clock,” Alex pointed out.

“There’s not much we can do, though, Alex,” Eric replied with a shrug. “I could give you the keys and you could drive over to the village, but I don’t know what there is to do over there.” He adjusted the hem of his shirt and he doubled back to the car for his suitcase: after that, he would climb into the tent to be with Florence for the night. Alex watched him take the suitcase out of the trunk of the car, which in turn left him alone there.

He turned his attention to El Capitan far beyond the edge of the campground. The clouds over the crown of the monolith made the stone appear darker than ever.

Maybe he could in fact climb into the car and drive over to the village for a quick walk before the rains iced over and became snow. Maybe he could do something over there to relieve himself in a way. It wasn’t a city but it was a piece of civilization.

He shivered as Eric returned to their campsite, dressed in his pajamas and with his jacket over the top shirt.

“Can you come with me over to the village?” Alex asked him in a hushed voice. Eric raised his eyebrows at that.

“I’m in my pajamas, Alex,” he flatly replied as he put his suitcase back into the trunk.

“That’s... kind of the point,” Alex insisted with a little tilt of his head. Eric hesitated for a second, and then he pressed his hands to his hips.

“Alex, I’m not going to cheat on my seven-and-a-half-month pregnant wife with you,” he scoffed at that.

“But you have, though,” he insisted. “You have in the middle of the night.”

“Yes, we both couldn’t sleep worth shit,” Eric pointed out, and he reached into his jacket pocket for the car keys. Alex then sighed through his nose, but even through the flickering flames off to the left of them, he could see the fire in his own eyes. Only a few feet away from them was Florence, already lain down in the sleeping bag there.

Alex sighed again and Eric handed him the keys.

“I’ll be right back,” the former told him in a low voice; and he swore that Eric flashed him a wink. He went back to the tent and Alex climbed into the driver’s seat.

He headed out of the campground and he followed the signs over to the village.

Indeed, there wasn’t much to go about with the village, rather than some restaurants that all appeared to be closed for the night as well as the incoming snow and upscale rustic houses that made the blue-collar kid in him see stars in his own eyes. He pulled over before the lodge as he spotted the coffee maker in the front window; he bowed in there for a little cup of it as well as some chocolate for himself.

He stood there before the window as he watched the rain fizzle down from the blackened sky: through the light over the top of the window, he noticed the rain beginning to drift.

It was right then he knew that he was a city person.

It was also right then that Alex knew that he had boogie on back to home base and the campground. He thanked the park ranger in there before he headed on out again. Through the winds through the trees beyond the village came the chill of the snow. The northeastern side of the park had already taken the hit of the snow and ice, and more came his way. He bowed into the car again and he returned the way that he came, back to the comfort of Eric and the tent of his own.

Lucky for Alex, he returned to the campground well before the rain became snow. He climbed out of the car with his coffee and his chocolate, and he was quick to take his pajamas out of the suitcase over in the bathrooms and return again for the safety of his tent and a book to read.

He sat upright in his sleeping bag with the door closed, his book in hand, the lantern lit up right behind him, and the coffee and chocolate to his right. Though it wasn’t late, it certainly felt that way as he propped himself up on his pillow and began to read himself to sleep. Blackness crossed the sky overhead. His eyes drooped closed a couple of times and yet it wasn’t in him to fall asleep as of yet, especially when he knew that if he was back home in the Bay Area, he would still be wide awake.

Add to this, he had his flannel pajamas on, but he was still cold. The trees protected the campground from the extra harsh winds from that sheer front of El Capitan, and yet his sleeping bag and the blanket inside only did so much for him.

The coffee was rich and hot, and yet he missed something else right next to him. The feeling of another body next to him. Through the filmy fabric of the tent, he noticed the light of the hurricane lantern emerge from the neighboring tent. There was a slight gasp and he knew that it was Florence. Heavily pregnant, and therefore having to climb out of bed to use the bathroom every couple of hours.

He was surprised that she kept it in this whole trip over from the Bay Area as they had only stopped a couple of, granted, rather prolonged, times on the way.

But as he bit into the chocolate and sipped on the chocolate some more, it dawned on him that that was it.

The chance to be next to Eric out there in the open.

Alex downed the rest of the coffee and then he tucked the bookmark into the pages. He climbed out of the sleeping bag, and he climbed out of the tent. The fire still burned, albeit with smaller, colder flames, but it gave him enough light to work with. He crept over to the tent doors and he knelt down at the base.

“Eric?” Alex called out to him with a clearing of his throat. “Are you awake?”

“I’ve been awake,” Eric flatly replied. “We accidentally pitched the tent over a pine cone, and naturally, I'm lying on top of it. She's also just—in a shitty mood, too. Right after you went over to the village, she and I got into an argument about s’mores. S'mores, Alex. Of all things on Earth right now. We bickered over making s’mores.”

“Well, I can’t sleep,” Alex whispered to him.

“What would you like me to do?” he asked him, also in a whisper.

“I need some relief,” Alex told him.

“What do you mean?”

“No, I mean... I need some relief. I need the feeling of your body against mine, the feeling of everything and nothing against my own skin while we’re out here in the cold.”

A loud zipping noise sliced its way up through the darkness before him: through the dim glow of the fire, Alex was face to face with Eric’s pale round one and those dark brown eyes.

“I need it,” he whispered to him. “I need it. It's good for me. It's good for you, too.”

“Alex, please, I’m married. Plus, she’s literally right over here, dude, and she’s going to be coming back in like a couple of minutes. What if we wake her up?”

“Oh, please,” Alex scoffed, and rolled his eyes. “Have you seen her when she’s kicked back a bunch of food before?”

“I have, yes. And—” Eric sniffled. “Do I smell coffee?”

“Yes, you do,” Alex told him. “I’m all out of whack being over here. It feels so late so I can’t seem to stay awake, but I also can’t fall asleep because it’s still early and now I’ve got a cup of coffee in me. It's like being out on tour in a different time zone but worse because there’s not much to do in the meantime, either. It’s probably the most bizarre gray area ever to be in...” His voice trailed off a bit. “Also, I still have your keys. Here, tell her that you came over to my tent to talk to me about—I dunno, a new album or something. Come over to my tent—come over to my place, I have coffee and chocolate.”

“I do like chocolate,” Eric proclaimed with a shrug of his shoulders. “I was wanting s’mores, too.”

“Hopefully tomorrow we’ll have s’mores,” Alex assured him as he lent him a hand.

“Nah, I’ve got it—” Eric slithered out of the bag sleeping bag pressed up against Florence’s bag, and he closed the doors so no rainwater made its way inside of there. With the light of the fire at their backs, the two of them made their way over to Alex’s tent, and almost immediately, Eric set a hand on the seat of Alex’s flannel pajama bottoms.

“Whoa,” he blurted out.

His grin accentuated by the golden light of the hurricane lantern in the corner of the tent, Eric stooped down through those filmy doors as Alex climbed into his sleeping bag first; he moved the chocolate bar out of the way for Eric to lay down himself right next to him.

Once they were both cuddled up next to each other, Eric slid his hand down the small of Alex’s back and onto the seat of his pajamas once again.

“This is nice,” Eric remarked in a low voice.

“This is quite nice, actually,” Alex added. “I’m a lot warmer, now.”

“Yeah, me, too. I love Flo to death, but the tent over there was so cold, though. I was just thinking about s’mores and how we didn’t pack any of the makings because—” He shrugged his shoulders, albeit in a stunted way because of the snug sleeping bag wrapped around their bodies.

“Oh, right,” Alex replied in a flat tone of voice. “She can’t have chocolate.”

“No. You know, I'm getting a little depressed about her being pregnant.”

“Why?” Alex knitted his eyebrows at that.

“Well, you know her, Alex. You went out with her before she and I got hitched. She used to be really fun and cute and now—she just mopes around all the time now. I have to repeat myself several times to her, too—like the little conversation the two of you had earlier was just one example. I feel terrible saying that because there’s nothing neither of us can do about it.”

“True,” Alex said; his fingers wandered their way down to the waist of Eric’s pajama bottoms.

“I mean, she was genuinely excited to come here to Yosemite for a bit, especially since it’s been a while since it had snowed over here, too.”

“Right, right...” His fingers made their way inside: those fast fingers that played such rapid-fire solos on Testament’s songs, and they managed to slither into Eric’s shorts without his knowing.

“And... well. I don’t—really know, now. You know, I think about that comment she made earlier.”

“What, the ‘if you and I got married instead’ remark?” Alex recalled.

“Yeah, that one. You saw me—she said that as I was standing right there right behind you. So—to be perfectly honest—Alex?”

“Hm?”

Alex’s fingers caressed down the shaft to the head: the warmest skin and the warmest spot in an otherwise cold, wet place. They locked eyes for a moment, Alex’s ocean-blue ones to Eric’s soft earthy brown ones, but it was long enough for them to bring their faces closer to one another for the most passionate kiss yet.

They were outside, in the wilderness, under the foreboding power of El Capitan and Half Dome in the heart of Yosemite Valley, surrounded by nature. The earth took the two of them in her arms and cradled them both as she would the highest point on the northeastern side of the park as well as the little prehistoric rivulets on the valley floor.

Eric ran his hand down Alex’s ass onto the back of his thigh. It took Alex a second to realize that he was helping him take his pants off right there, right inside of the sleeping bag. Alex did the same for Eric, with his pajama bottoms down his legs, too.

“Do not make a sound,” Eric whispered to him.

“What are you guys doing!” Florence declared, and they both froze right inside of the sleeping bag.

Alex cleared his throat. “Chatting,” he quipped.

Florence scoffed and she continued onto the tent. Alex and Eric looked into each other’s eyes again.

“Make this quick?” the former offered him in a hushed whisper.

“May as well,” Eric said with a crestfallen look upon his face. Alex sighed through his nose again.

They were out there in the wilderness, and by the power of the wilderness as well as the impending snow, the slow, glacial passion returned again. He closed his eyes and Eric brought his lips to the side of his neck: Alex curled his toes to the feeling. He gripped harder on Eric’s dick for a better job at handling.

Meanwhile, Eric brought his hand back to the full shape of Alex’s ass for a bit of a tickling there. Next thing that Alex knew, he could feel Eric’s hard dick against his own.

Though they would have to move at the pace of one of the many waterfalls around the valley, not even Florence’s quips could stop the burgeoning fire between them. Skin on skin. Warmth against warmth, away from the cold rain and the incoming snow.

Alex ran his fingers down Eric’s bare thigh and back up to his hip. Eric caressed Alex’s ass and the back of his thigh as if it was the softest thing in the world. Alex parted his lips and treated him to a soft moan: the coffee and the chocolate had done their job in having him jump the gun of arousal, and all he needed was the feeling of Eric’s skin against his own.

Alex could feel something liquid on the front of his thigh.

“Oh, shit,” Eric muttered.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Alex assured him. “I’m more worried about my own getting on the inside here.”

But Eric still opened the sleeping bag so he could ejaculate outside of there. He then returned to Alex, who gasped at the cold feeling against his warm skin.

“Yeah, you like that, big boy?” Eric teased him. Alex pinched his eyes shut as the feeling welled up inside of him. He was rising higher and higher, up the sheer side of El Capitan, all the way to the snow-capped top. The wind picked up outside of the tent, and yet they were safe inside of that little bundle that was the sleeping bag.

He parted his little cherry lips and let out the softest moan, so soft that it may as well have come in on the back of Yosemite Falls. Eric kissed him on the side of the neck.

“This was a good call, baby doll,” he whispered into Alex’s ear.

Maybe it was the illusion that it was so late because once the two of them had come for one another right then, they had fallen asleep in the sleeping bag together. So much for a quick round, as not even a nascent family with Florence in the other tent could put a cap on their passion.

But nevertheless, Alex awoke to a worried look on Eric’s face through the cold darkness.

“Alex,” Eric whispered. “Alex, there’s a bear outside.”

Alex froze in place.

“What,” he declared.

“There—is—a—bear—outside,” Eric repeated. “I really have to go pee, too. And I have to go back to the other tent, too.”

Alex swallowed and he held still. Indeed, a rustling noise outside of the tent caught his attention. It sounded like a bear rummaging through the garbage can. It made no sense, however, especially since Eric closed the garbage bag and Alex had put everything in the bear box after dinner. He then thought about his cup of coffee as well as the chocolate bar underneath the sleeping bag.

But then again, he wondered as to why the bear hadn’t come into the tent if that was the case.

He swallowed and he sat up in the sleeping bag. He reached for the hurricane lantern to the right of his head. Eric lingered right next to him as he switched it back on and, once his eyes adjusted to the light, he very slowly opened the doors. He held his breath as he expected to see a big grizzly bear out there but the golden light spread over the fine white plumage of a barn owl rested upon a little pile of snow on the bear box. Alex peered up to the sky, which had changed from jet-black to a pale pink with snow.

“Is it?” Eric asked as he leaned his head into the doorway.

“Oh, no. Just an owl.” He returned to the sleeping bag. “Where’s that chocolate bar, I’m not taking any chances.”

“You know, chocolate’s an aphrodisiac,” Eric pointed out as he picked up the lantern for himself.

“That was the point.” Alex winked at him, and Eric showed him the tip of his tongue at that.

“How’s the village, by the way?” Eric asked him.

“Cozy,” Alex told him. “It’s what you would expect, too. Maybe in the morning, we can go on over there for some breakfast and then maybe a little more—you know—” He flashed him a wink. “When Florence isn’t looking.”

“A little roll in the snow,” Eric declared with a smirk.

“Exactly!”

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luckyfeetsandimas · 2 years

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Things to do in San Dimas

Located in Los Angeles County, San Dimas gets on old Route 66. It is positioned at 955 feet over water level. The city has a populace of 33,165 people.

The city is a part of the Los Angeles metropolitan area. San Dimas is bordered by hills and offers a lot of snow in the winter. In the summer season, it has warm as well as completely dry weather condition. The ordinary heat is 68 deg F (20 deg C) while the average low temperature level is 43 deg F (6 deg C).

San Dimas was formerly referred to as Mud Springs. The name was altered in the early 1800s to recognize Saint Dismas, a repentant thief tortured together with Christ.

San Dimas is a significant farming area. The citrus farming industry was a significant factor to the economic situation until the mid-20th century. Numerous citrus groves were uprooted because of disease in the 1950s.

Frank G. Bonelli Regional Park

Found in San Dimas, CA, Bonelli Regional Park is an idyllic park that provides lots of outside tasks. The park's natural setting is attractive, and it is the best place for households to take pleasure in a day of barbecues and nature strolls. The park includes five miles of shoreline and a 250-acre lake.

The park supplies a number of activities, including fishing, swimming, treking, and biking. Throughout the summer season, the park is likewise the ideal location to take pleasure in water sports such as kayaking and jet winter sports. The lake likewise offers views of the San Gabriel Mountains. On top of that, the park has a range of leisure activities, consisting of horseback riding, group picnicking, and outdoor camping.

The park likewise supplies numerous play grounds, which are excellent for youngsters. The park's head office lies in the southwest corner of the park close to Lucky Feet Shoes, a prominent shoe shop among the citizens for their stylish yet comfortable shoes.

The park likewise consists of a boathouse, which was constructed in 1959 by the area department of parks as well as leisure. The park has a water play area for children, along with bbqs and barbecue tables. The park likewise provides a range of other recreational tasks, consisting of running, biking, as well as horseback riding. The park is likewise home to a number of yearly unique occasions, such as shows and also fishing events.

Pacific Railroad Museum

Situated in the Sierra Nevada Mountains in Portola, California, the Western Pacific Railroad Museum is a living gallery that maintains the background of railroads in the region. The museum is operated by the Pacific Railroad Society. Established in the 1970s by Norman Holmes, the team was produced to preserve the background of the Western Pacific Railroad.

The gallery homes over 100 pieces of railway devices. Its collection includes guest and also products autos, locomotives, as well as locomotive repair equipment. It likewise has a big research study library. The gallery is open to site visitors free of cost on the very first as well as 3rd Saturdays of the month.

A range of programs are offered for grownups as well as kids. They include "Railroad Time Travelers" and also "Legacy of the Transcontinental Railroad". "Telegraphs Trains and Trouble" is a program for middle and also senior high school trainees.

The railway museum's rolling stock collection traces the love of long-distance traveling and shows the duties of guest and products equipment, refrigerator cars, and also railroad dining compartment. Its maintenance-of-way automobiles consist of dynamometer autos, snowplows, clothing as well as device cars and trucks, and also cranes.

Horsethief Canyon Park

Situated in San Dimas, California, Horsethief Canyon Park is a fantastic area to trek and also loosen up. The park has barbecue tables, toilets and a small dog park. It is additionally situated near several treking routes. Besides hiking, the park additionally uses numerous sporting activities such as beach ball and also horseshoes. The park is likewise home to the San Dimas Rodeo, which is held throughout the very first week of October together with Western Days.

This park has an exceptional trail that is ideal for family members to trek. The route is well maintained and also has lots of turns. The trail additionally passes a seasonal water hole. The park is also home to the San Dimas Historical Society, which has a collection of early San Dimas documents and also other artefacts.

The park is likewise home to the San Dimas Dog Park, which has a one-acre location where pets can play and kick back. The pet dog park has a huge area water dish and also pet dog benches. There are different locations for huge and lap dogs, which is excellent for animal proprietors. The park is additionally a wonderful location to take images. The park is tidy as well as has green yard, which makes it a wonderful place to take household images.

The trail additionally leads up to a gazebo at the north end of the parking area. This is the beginning point for a number of treking tracks. After the path passes the gazebo, it transforms uphill as well as passes a grove of trees. It then passes a white message and also advances to the hillside. The route complies with the crest of the hill and after that transforms downhill. At this moment, it starts to switchback back to the junction.

Wally Parks NHRA Motorsports Museum

Established in 1998 by Wally Parks, the NHRA Motorsports Museum is the only motorsports gallery in the United States. The gallery displays the history of drag racing and marine engineering, along with a collection of historical cars and trucks and artifacts. It is a 501( c)( 3) non-profit organization and is presented by the Automobile Club of Southern California. NHRA Motorsports Museum is located at the Los Angeles County Fairplex in Pomona, California.

The National Hot Rod Museum is a museum of hot rods, speed records and car culture that is dedicated to celebrating the history and advancements of the industry. Its collection of artifacts, historical vehicles, and memorabilia represents the fifty years of hot rods and speed records. The museum also celebrates the technological advances in automobiles.

The NHRA Museum is located at the Los Angeles County Fairplex, which is home to Auto Club Raceway at Pomona. It is situated 35 miles east of downtown Los Angeles It is open from 10 am to 5 pm. It also provides a free parking lot and AAA membership discounts on admission. The museum has a store with a variety of hot rod history items. The museum is open Wednesday through Sunday.

The National Hot Rod Museum features a replica 1954 Dodge Safety Safari rig. It also has Mickey Thompson's land speed efforts. It has other artifacts from the early days of drag racing.

Raging Waters Los Angeles.

Located in San Dimas, Los Angeles County, Raging Waters offers a variety of family-friendly attractions. There are 36 water slides, four kiddie areas, and plenty of water-soaked attractions. It's open May through September and is the largest water park in California. This amusement park is owned by Parques Reunidos.

It is a good idea to bring only what you need for the day like waterproof sunblock and a good pair of sandals from Lucky Feet Shoes, a store with a variety of styles for every ocassion not leaving behind the comfort. You can also leave your belongings under your towel on a lounge chair. This will keep them from getting wet.

There are some rides that you may not see if you're just visiting for the day. You can also check out the wave pool and the water obstacle course. You may also want to try the Flowrider surfing simulator. If you're looking for more thrill slides, you can check out the AquaDrop, which sends sliders down a six-story drop at speeds of 20 mph.

There are also a variety of food and drink options at Raging Waters. You can grab a burger or a soft serve at Sharkey's, which features burgers and fries. You can also top by Pipeline Pizza for pizza or Jamba Juice for smoothies. If you're feeling more hungry, you can also check out Sharkey's Buffet. This restaurant offers a variety of food options, including nachos, salads, and other favorites.

Lucky Feet Shoes 844 Arrow Hwy B, San Dimas, CA 91773 +19093943338 https://luckyfeetshoes.com/pages/sandimas

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irvinenewshq · 2 years

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The U.S. Is in for One other Tremendous-Dry Winter

Vegetation grows in entrance of the partially snow-capped Sierra Nevada Mountains on February 20, 2022 close to Lone Pine, California. Picture: Mario Tama (Getty Pictures) Don’t anticipate a lot aid from the continuing drought out West this coming winter. La Niña is returning for its third consecutive 12 months, the Nationwide Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) introduced this week. Which means that Western states will proceed to see drier-than-average circumstances this winter. “Drought circumstances are actually current throughout roughly 59% of the nation, however elements of the Western U.S and southern Nice Plains will proceed to be the toughest hit this winter,” stated Jon Gottschalck, chief of the Operational Prediction Department at NOAA’s Local weather Prediction Middle. “With the La Niña local weather sample nonetheless in place, drought circumstances may additionally increase to the Gulf Coast.” In keeping with NOAA, the drought-inclined Southwest may even see higher-than-common temperatures this coming winter, with lower-than-common precipitation. Virtually all of California is anticipated to see persevering with and even worsening drought circumstances, and far of Texas, Nevada, and Utah will see these particularly dry circumstances as properly. The whole column of states from Texas as much as North Dakota may even see persevering with or worsening drought circumstances. G/O Media could get a fee How does La Niña have an effect on this? The climate sample is categorized by greater temperatures and stronger storms, like hurricanes. The presence of La Niña additionally means extra drought within the U.S., the place tens of millions of individuals are struggling by water shortages. The circumstances have been formally seen again in early fall of 2020 and finally reached one of many strongest intensities recorded because the Nineteen Fifties, in keeping with Axios. And since these circumstances will stick round, the continuing drought will persist into subsequent 12 months. Climate change is intensifying the scenario: In February, researchers attributed 42% of the nation’s drought circumstances to human-brought on local weather change. Earlier this 12 months, NOAA predicted an particularly dry spring and summer season for giant sections of the nation, and particularly out West. That evaluation got here after the winter of 2021 and into 2022 was declared the twelfth driest winter within the final 128 years. This meant that snowpack in lots of areas was particularly low, which meant much less snowmelt to spice up water in lakes, rivers, and reservoirs. And in July, NOAA forecasted that La Niña circumstances would persist till the top of 2022, which suggests extra ongoing drought within the U.S. Widespread dry circumstances have strained entry to water for individuals and industries alike. Particularly low ranges in California’ reservoirs affected hydropower within the state, whereas prices of meals like tomatoes have elevated this 12 months after after excessive temperatures and dry circumstances lowered yields. Originally published at Irvine News HQ

#Irvine News HQ

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awigglycultist · 3 years

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So in TTO, it says they set off on July 26. Well I just read that most irl travelers on the Oregon trail left in May, at the latest. To leave in July they'd end up in the Sierra Nevada mountains in November, at the earliest. They'd be in the mountains in the middle of winter. Exactly what happened to the Donner Party, who left in late May.

Yup, we already know this family only has one brain cell, which belongs to the mother, so ofc they would set off and such a bad time, they're idiots.

And in TTO we see that it is winter for them at some point in they're journey, when they're at the bar and SWW breaks up with Jack Bauer the bartender says that it's winter.

They also didn't have a wagon for a month at that point, I mean look at the clothes they're wearing! Those are not going to keep you very warm at all!

They got very lucky that they didn't die and end up like the Donner party, well they probably wouldn't end up quite like the Donner party, obviously hunger and shit makes you go crazier but I don't think any of them would end up eating each other. Still, it's a miracle that they survived.

#starkid #trail to oregon #rewatchers1000 #inbox

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collapsedsquid · 4 years

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You’ve heard of the Donner Party? Maybe some of you haven’t. The Donner Party, the Donner family and a bunch of travelers trying to get to California over the Sierra Nevada mountain range. They made the mistake of trying to make the trip in the middle of winter. We’re talking the Lake Tahoe region. They get to the peak. It was so bad that they had to turn to cannibalism to survive. That’s what’s noteworthy about the Donner Party. If you read the diaries written by the leaders of the Donner Party, the only reference to how cold it was, was one sentence: “It was a particularly tough winter.”

It’s just what was. They didn’t complain about it, because there was nothing they could do. They had to adapt. This is what’s missing. There seems to be no concept of adaptation. There seems to be no understanding in the Millennial generation that we can adapt to this, and that we’re going to have to.

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themountainsbehindus · 4 years

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AT vs PCT

AT: (NOBO)

1. 515,000 feet of elevation gain and loss from Georgia to Maine

2. Trail takes you to top of mountain frequently, all the way up, all the way down (like a rollercoaster)

3. Older mountains -- more history, more weathered, full of rocks and roots

4. Foot path

5. Mentally more challenging but this depends on who you are and how you deal. Rain, fog, snow, cold, and humidity are more common

6. In a green tunnel most of the time, can’t see too far in front of you or to the side of you

7. Less logistically challenging

8. Wanna get to Baxter state park before end of October because they close it and then you can’t finish

9. Getting permits in Smoky mountains can be challenging

10. More room for error

11. Stronger hiking community

12. More community around AT (more trail angels, trail towns, hostels, outfitters - goes through 14 states and through small towns. many people wanting to help hikers)

13. People hike in packs more than in the PCT -- “tramilies”

14. Vibe is more rooted in history (older mountains and towns. historic plaques and battlefields)

15. Recommended for first thru hike because more room for error and more community -- great place to learn how to grow as a hiker and exist on a trail.

16. 2189 miles

17. Highest elevation point 6643 feet at Clingmans Dome in Tennessee

18. Water is plentiful (except for new york) -- every five miles

19. Pass road to get into town every 3-5 days

20. Hitches are usually 10 miles or less from town

21. Easier to correct gear mistakes

22. Easier to find hammock set up because more trees

23. 23% of people completed the AT (12% were SOBO)

24. 500-1000 people on average on trail at a time

25. Shelters on trail to camp in or gather in (usually have a toilet, water source, and fire ring)

26. Log Books are more common (like trail social media)

PCT: (NOBO)

1. 315,000 feet of elevation gain and loss from Mexico to Canada

2. Trail goes up and then curves

3. Gentle trail

4. Equestrian trail (graded for livestock)

5. Minimal rain or fog

6. More mentally stimulating. Much more open space and less trees

7. Logistically more difficult - longer water carries, further from towns and cities for resupply

8. Timing is more important (not in desert when too hot, when in sierra when snow isn’t too bad, finish in Canada before snow and winter)

9. Community exists but less so, not common to see shelters

10. Grander views, in the middle of nowhere, vast desert, massive mountains, the world feels bigger, may feel less connected to trail and more connected to self

11. Great for second time thru hikers

12. 2650 miles (Mexico, California, Oregon, Washington, Canada)

13. Highest elevation 13,000 feet at foresters path in Sierra Nevadas

14. Takes less time so its less strenuous. Miles get knocked out faster.

15. Pass road to get into town every 5-7 days

16. Getting hitches into town can take longer (less traffic but it depends on road)

17. Hitches into town take longer

18. More specialized gear

19. Bear canisters recommended

20. Need warm weather gear

21. Log Books aren't as common

#thru hike #appalachain trail #pacific crest trail

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scifigeneration · 5 years

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What is the cryosphere? Hint: It's vital to farming, fishing and skiing

by Mark Serreze

Rivers of melted ice on a Western Greenland ice sheet drain into the ocean beneath the ice. Photo via Caspar Haarløv/AP

More than 100 scientists from 30 countries will soon release a special report examining climate change impacts on the oceans and a less familiar but critically important part of the Earth: the cryosphere.

Ice sheets, ice caps and glaciers, the floating sea ice of the polar regions, lake ice, snow on the ground, and permafrost, permanently frozen ground in northern latitudes, all make up the cryosphere.

While snow and ice in our daily lives can, at times, be difficult to navigate and sometimes dangerous, people benefit greatly from the cryosphere. It helps cool our planet and controls global sea level. It affects ocean currents and storm patterns around the world. The fresh water stored in snow and ice provides drinking water and irrigates crops. I am a researcher who studies snow and ice, and the fact that the Earth is beginning to lose its cryosphere as a result of global warming climate should concern all of us.

Fresh water locked in massive ice sheets

The Greenland and Antarctic ice sheets contain 99% of the freshwater ice on the planet. These ice sheets, glaciers and ice caps around the world are losing mass and are contributing to sea level rise, putting coastal regions and low-lying islands around the world at risk.

The Tibetan Plateau is known as the “water tower” of Asia. The Mekong River, Yellow River, the Yangthze, Indus River and the Karnali all originate on the Tibetan plateau and are fed by snow and glacier melt and the water from these rivers supports hundreds of millions of people.

More locally, in the U.S. Mountain West, including the Cascades, Sierra Nevada and Rocky Mountains, the winter snowpack, water stored as ice and snow until spring, is the major source of water for agriculture, industry and municipal use. Like the ice sheets in the polar regions, evidence shows that the winter snowpack in the U.S. is shrinking. The economic impact to communities without enough cold weather and snow is numerous, whether it is a loss of winter sports such as skiing, snowmobiling and ice fishing or less water for fish or irrigation to grow food.

Mt Rainier in the Cascade Mountain range. Ted S. Warren/AP

The threats of our shrinking cryosphere involve much more than impacts to local and regional economies, however. Much of our planet’s snow and ice, located in the polar regions, is there because it is so cold. The bright white snow and ice cover functions like a mirror for the planet, reflecting back into space much of the Sun’s energy that reaches the surface. The snow and ice reinforce the cold of the polar regions and their role as our planet’s natural refrigerators. A warming Earth undermines the ability of snow and ice to moderate and stabilize the global climate.

The impact of thinning ice

In the Arctic, the North Polar region of Earth, much of the ocean is covered by floating sea ice, which forms when sea water freezes. This sea ice cover is shrinking. As the ice thins and melts, darker surfaces are exposed and absorb more of the Sun’s energy. This leads to more warming and even more melting. This cycle of heat absorption, warming and melting, known as a positive feedback, is a factor in Arctic amplification – the observation that the Arctic is warming at least twice as quickly the rate as the globe as a whole.

The loss of the floating sea ice cover and the rapidly warming Arctic are causing a cascade effect through the Arctic food chain – from top predators like the polar bear to tiny phytoplankton that live throughout the world’s oceans. The lives of the 4 million people who live in the Arctic are being disrupted in myriad ways.

youtube

The Greenland ice sheet releases tons of fresh water.

The ice-diminished Arctic is opening up potential shipping lanes including the northern sea route along the Russian coast and the Northwest Passage through the channels of the Canadian Arctic archipelago, all islands north of Canada except Greenland. Oil and natural gas deposits under the Arctic seafloor are becoming more accessible. The potential for economic development in the region brings with it inevitable challenges of governance and conflict.

The global ice budget

But what is happening in the north won’t just stay there. As the Arctic warms, it may disrupt the jet stream, the narrow band of strong west to east winds high in the atmosphere that influences weather, the tracks and intensity of storms in the middle latitudes of the Northern Hemisphere. Some scientists say that this is already happening.

And, as the Arctic’s permafrost thaws, Arctic land will release stored carbon, in the form of carbon dioxide, and methane back to the atmosphere, potentially leading to further climate warming. The melting Greenland ice sheet is contributing to sea level rise in addition to melting Arctic ice caps and glaciers.

As our climate gets hotter, the cryosphere will continue to shrink and melt, and the impacts of losing it will likely only multiply. What we see today is just the beginning.

About The Author:

Mark Serreze is a Research Professor of Geography and Director, National Snow and Ice Data Center, University of Colorado Boulder

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.

#sciwence #climate science #permafrost #cryosphere

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newstfionline · 6 years

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California wildfires rage, killing at least nine and putting tens of thousands at risk

By Joel Achenbach, Katie Mettler, E. Aaron Williams and Lindsey Bever, Washington Post, November 10, 2018

THOUSAND OAKS, Calif.--California is on fire again, north and south, the flames deadly and swift, fanned by ferocious Santa Ana winds and fueled by dry tinder. The fires have killed at least nine people, immolated a mountain town and jangled the nerves of many tens of thousands of residents forced to evacuate their homes.

The fires have thus far proved to be unstoppable, operating at flash-flood velocity. The big wildfire here in Southern California, known as the Woolsey Fire, quadrupled in size Friday, covering more than 22 square miles, with no containment. It easily jumped eight-lane Highway 101 and rambled over the Santa Monica Mountains to posh Malibu, where it torched homes and cars. The wildfire then finally ran into its only match so far: the Pacific Ocean.

The bulletins from the northern part of the state were even worse. At least nine people died in or near their homes or vehicles as they tried to outrace the Camp Fire, which devastated the mountain town of Paradise, about 90 miles north of the state capital, Sacramento.

Paradise was anything but, with block after block of destruction, downed power lines, charred cars in the middle of roads, utility poles still smoldering and spot fires around the town, though there wasn’t much vegetation left to burn. Random buildings still stand in the town of 27,000, but for every edifice that survived, dozens that did not.

Marc Kessler, 55, a science teacher at one of Paradise’s middle schools, said the smoke was rising from the Sierra Nevada foothills when he arrived at work Thursday.

“The sky turned black; you couldn’t tell it was daytime,” he said. “It was raining black pieces of soot, coming down like a black snowstorm and starting fires everywhere. Within minutes, the town was engulfed.”

Kessler said authorities told teachers to forget seat belt laws and start piling the 200 or so students who showed up for class Thursday morning into the teachers’ personal vehicles. Some frantic parents showed up to get their children, he said, and bus drivers drove through flames to help save children’s lives.

Kessler said one of the students in his car said, “Oh, look at the moon!”

“I said, ‘That’s not the moon. That’s the sun,’ “ he recalled, his voice breaking. “There were times when there were flames near the vehicles. There were times when you couldn’t see through the smoke. Some of our teachers didn’t think they’d survive.”

About 23.4 million Californians were under red-flag warnings into Friday, and officials warned that flames could reach the city of Chico, a college town of more than 90,000 about six miles from Paradise. People scrambled to evacuate.

The Camp Fire had covered 110 square miles and was just 5 percent contained as of Friday, state officials said, warning that there might be additional deaths that they cannot confirm until they can safely enter smoldering neighborhoods. It is a terrifying situation for family members of residents who were last heard from when the town and others nearby were ordered evacuated.

“We didn’t have much time; it came too fast,” said Cory Nichols, a barber who fled his home in Paradise. “We were going to sell the house. Don’t have to now.”

California has experienced debilitating fires of unprecedented regularity in the past few years, many of them encroaching on towns and cities built up to the edges of forests in areas prone to wildfires. In August, the Mendocino Complex Fire became the largest wildfire ever recorded in the state, burning more than 400,000 acres. The previous record was set less than a year before, when the Thomas Fire burned through more than 280,000 acres in Ventura and Santa Barbara counties. In October 2017, some 21 wildfires burned nearly 95,000 acres and 7,000 buildings in Sonoma and Napa counties in the heart of California’s wine country, killing 40 people.

The California fire season normally begins in late spring and lasts through summer. But hot, dry weather has persisted this year well into autumn, and the winter rains have yet to arrive. The Santa Ana winds, which blow out of the Sierra Nevadas and toward the western coastline, are building into howling gales that dry the vegetation and the soil, creating potentially explosive fire conditions.

In Thousand Oaks, 40 miles from downtown Los Angeles, residents have endured a brutal week.

This city, cherished by its residents for clean air and low crime, already was in mourning after Wednesday night’s mass shooting at a country music bar. At a vigil downtown Thursday night, people had lit candles and pondered an unspeakable crime. Just hours later, the same area was choked in smoke and imperiled by the Woolsey Fire.

In the pre-dawn darkness, a gusty wind whipped American flags flying at half-staff in honor of the shooting victims. An orange glow could be seen throughout the city, sometimes leaping into bright flares along the ridgelines. Emergency bulletins buzzed cellphones in the middle of the night, sometimes urging evacuations.

“It’s dangerous to sleep all night,” said Sergio Figueroa, 34, who was dropping his wife off at a hotel where she works on Friday. Late Thursday and into the early hours Friday, he watched television, knowing his home was in the “voluntary” evacuation zone. He said he allowed himself one hour of shut-eye--but not actual sleep.

“You just close your eyes and stay alert,” he said.

At 3 a.m., streets normally empty at that hour were filled with parents, children and pets evacuating as the orange glow crept closer.

“Don’t wait too long. Get out when they tell you to get out,” said Uber driver Brent Young, 52, who was about to take a client from Thousand Oaks to the Los Angeles International Airport through a roundabout route that would circumvent closed freeways and dangerous conditions.

The problem was figuring out which way to go. There were fires in many places. Even before the Woolsey Fire kicked up, another wildfire, the Hill Fire, threatened homes west of town. Highway 101 was closed in both directions at various times for two different fires. The only thing inhibiting the Hill Fire was that it ran into the footprint of a 2013 fire and lacked fuel, officials said.

Longtime resident Peggy Smith, 64, was filling her gas tank at 4 a.m. Friday at a Mobil station in an area under voluntary evacuation. She said people began flocking to Thousand Oaks in the 1960s after airline pilots on the flight path into Los Angeles noticed that there was no smog here. The pilots moved in, and then police officers, and firefighters.

She was ready for the fire. She needed only 10 minutes to load her car with her favorite family photos, important documents, clothes and food.

“My son’s a fireman. I was married to a fireman. I’m not scared,” Smith said. “I have full faith in our fire departments.”

They were busy. The trucks rolled through neighborhoods and zoomed down Highway 101. People had fled, power was out, and the only light came from the fires.

“This is crazy,” said Paige Gordon, a real estate agent who was checking on a friend’s multimillion-dollar house in Westlake Village as flames devoured the parched brush. “We have all aspects of Ventura County on fire.”

As he turned on sprinklers in his friend’s backyard, an eruption of flame on the hillside caught his attention: “There’s the fire right there!”

Smoke loomed over Thousand Oaks like a thunderhead, the black cloud slowly advancing toward the sea as it crossed hills covered in blackened stubble.

In Malibu, film and television producer Ben Rosenblatt, 35, took one look at the approaching fire and knew he had to get out fast. He had just enough time to walk the dog first. There aren’t many ways in and out of Malibu, with the roads that wind up through the canyons impassable because of fire. That left the Pacific Coast Highway, where traffic moved at a crawl. The drive to Santa Monica should have taken him 35 minutes, but the navigation app on his phone said it would be 2 hours 35 minutes.

“It’s like a slow-motion race with massive fire clouds behind you and bumper-to-bumper traffic in front,” Rosenblatt said. “Think of any disaster movie you’ve seen where you’re trying to outrun the storm but it’s happening so slowly.”

Back in Thousand Oaks, the smoke would recede and then billow up again as a spot fire flared anew. At a teen center, set up as an evacuation site for those fleeing the fires, people became nervous when they saw flames on a nearby hillside.

In the parking lot, people slept in their cars beside their cats and dogs, their belongings packed in the back.

Mary Leighton, 57, of West Lake, had just gone to bed Thursday night when her brother heard on the news that they needed to evacuate.

“You think, ‘What do you take?’ “ She said. “My mind went blank.”

Five minutes later, carrying her husband’s ashes and her cat, Pumpkin, she and her family were gone. They slept in a shelter overnight and woke Friday morning to news that homes in their neighborhood had burned. Leighton didn’t know whether her home survived.

#California #California wildfires #Woolsey Fire #Camp Fire

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americangeophysicalunion · 2 years

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Sierra Nevada’s Laguna Caldera Turns Chocolate Brown…

Dear AGU,

On June 10th, 2022, Guille (in picture) is paddling to the middle of Laguna La Caldera – a glacial crater lake at 3050 m amsl on the Sierra Nevada in southern Spain – to redeploy a submersible water quality sonde that had spent time overwintering under the ice in the lake. From the over-wintering data on water clarity (turbidity measurements from light transmission), we know the lake was crystal clear. Today, however, following spring melt, it felt like we were rowing on a cauldron of chocolate! In mid-March, we had a massive Saharan dust fall that occurred over the Sierra (https://americangeophysicalunion.tumblr.com/post/680610554752253952/massive-saharan-dust-plume-over-spain-what-goes. Do we have a serendipitous Dust deposition + Spring melt natural experiment going on here? Was all that dust being washed down into Laguna Caldera during spring melt from throughout its watershed causing this color change? Could the extreme brownification of the lake this spring be due to the added effect of massive Saharan dust deposition earlier this winter and the rather abrupt transition from spring to summer conditions by regional heat waves and the resulting rapid spring thaw?

Intense episodic as well as constant low-level Saharan dust transport from Africa and its deposition over southern Spain contributes to the short as well as long-term Mediterranean ecosystem productivity by replenishing limiting nutrients such as Iron and Phosphorus in lakes and soils. Just as mountains intercept rain clouds from moving air masses, they disproportionately intercept dust – relative to flatlands in the landscape. Dust lowers the albedo of snow and lake, adding to the warming effect on mountain ecosystems – making the high-mountain lakes of Sierra Nevada sensitive sentinels of ongoing local, regional and intercontinental change. Indeed, we have observed strong long-term (decadal) trends on increasing warming in the Sierra Nevada based on time-series observations from the Sierra Nevada Observatory (https://obsnev.es/). The redeployed sonde will now track changes in turbidity and productivity (through chlorophyll measurements) through the growing season to assess overall effect of Saharan dust deposition on annual high-mountain lake ecology. We will now look to see if satellites such as the Sentinel bear witness to these changes and can corroborate our on the ground (actually in-lake) measurements…

– Mani Villar-Argaiz, Guille Garrido-Cañete, and Bopi Biddanda, Instituto del Agua, Universidad de Granada, Andalucía, Spain, and Annis Water Resources Institute, Grand Valley State University, Michigan, USA http://ecologia.ugr.es/, http://www.institutodelagua.es, https://www.gvsu.edu/wri/

#postcards from the field

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earthstory · 7 years

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A Mammoth Mountain Christmas

There aren’t many places in California where one can find snow on Christmas. California Christmases are, for obvious reasons, typically spent trying to avoid bragging to relatives about the weather.

However, there’s one place in California legendary for its snowfall: Mammoth Mountain.

Mammoth is one of the most popular ski areas in the country. People flock to its slopes during the winter; many without pondering the unique geology that creates the snowcapped peak lost in the clouds in this photo.

Mammoth sits in a very unusual place within the Sierra Nevada mountain range. There’s a gaping hole in the middle of the Sierras known as the “Long Valley Caldera”. You can see it reflected in the flatland in the foreground of this image.

The entire flatland in the foreground of this photo is a giant volcano. It erupted over 700,000 years ago, spitting out almost as much lava as the Yellowstone eruptions. When the eruption was finished, the ground collapsed downwards into the now-empty magma chamber, forming the caldera and leaving a giant gaping hole in the center of the mountain range.

The Sierra Nevada range runs parallel to the Pacific Ocean coastline. When moisture from the Pacific tries to enter the continent, it runs into this huge mountain range and typically is dumped as snow. That is, except for one place where moisture is able to penetrate deep into the mountains…because there’s a giant, gaping hole in the center of the range.

Moisture from the Pacific is able to penetrate into the mountains near Long Valley because the highest part of the range at that point was totally blown away. But, there is one mountain sitting in the way, sitting in the path of all that moisture – Mammoth Mountain.

Why is this one mountain sitting in that path, right next to the gaping hole? Well, it’s a volcano too.

Mammoth Mountain is made up of a couple million years worth of lava flows and eruptions, piled on top of one another to build the mountain. It sits just outside of Long Valley caldera, stuck at the perfect place to create massive snowpacks. It exists because of the caldera and it receives its snow because of the caldera.

It’s still active too. In the late 1980’s, there was a series of earthquakes recorded beneath Mammoth due to movement of magma within the crust, and a large number of trees in one area near Mammoth were killed due to venting volcanic gases.

That seems appropriate for a California Christmas. A snowcapped ski course on the slopes of a volcano, sitting along the edge of a giant volcano that blew a massive hole in a mountain range.

-JBB Image credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/21051229@N06/5605360066 (Creative Commons license)

#Mammoth #Geology #Ski resort #california #nature #volcano #caldera #landscape #travel #volcanomonday #the earth story #christmas #snow #weather #Sierra nevada

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pantless-thundergoose · 7 years

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So, after much consideration, and the urging of @coonazz74, I present to you: A Pantless Thundergoose Halloween Tale (or: How I Scared the Shit Out of Myself with My Own Imagination.):

When I was but a young goose, I was living in a small resort town in Lake Tahoe, USA (Nevada side, thank you very much). Being a resort town, we were reliant on seasonal guests and out-of-town visitors for our livelihoods, so our lives revolved around summer-long events and residents, winter skiing, and weekend/holiday travelers who would drop a few bucks at the local casinos. At the time, my dad owned/managed a moderately sized motel in the area, so I was intimately familiar with “tourist seasons” and “shoulder seasons.” A “shoulder season” it generally a time between seasons/holidays when tourist traffic would slow down, and it was a time for local year-round residents to take a breather and enjoy their community without the excess population. One of these “shoulder seasons” was fall, between Labor Day and Thanksgiving. Fall in the Sierra Mountains is beautiful, but back then we didn’t think to capitalize on the hiking/backpacking community, and instead took the season for ourselves to take a breather before the ski resorts opened for winter. I think this slow time was why Halloween always took a special place in my memory. It was a time for locals, without the traffic and constant comings and goings of strangers. It was a “safe time” for the kids (approx. 500 of us from K-12) to be out and about. The Halloween carnival at the high school was always a big event that everyone looked forward to, and was basically the warm-up for Trick-or-Treating. But I digress…

This particular year I was in the 6th grade (about 11 years old or so), and per usual we had our Halloween Day at school, which was just an excuse to do some crafts, wear our costumes, and spend the day goofing off before the Main Event of unashamed door-to-door candy begging from our neighbors. I had a teacher at the time who was big on encouraging individual creativity, and so our “class” that day was to sit in a circle in the dark around a “campfire” (some red, yellow, and orange tissue paper with a flickering lightbulb underneath) and tell ghost stories. Our area is chock full of local myth, like the ghosts that haunt the Viking Tea House in Emerald Bay, the monster that lives in the lake, the Kingsbury Man, the haunting of the Whittell Castle (seriously, it’s a castle style home in the woods in Lake Tahoe. Look it up), or the curse of the Ormsby House in Carson City, etc. In other words, creepy ghost stories were never in short supply. I remember one of my classmates was amazingly good at storytelling, and we all looked forward to what he had to say. His tale was amazing, and I wish I could remember it verbatim, but 25 years has dulled my memory, so I’ll give you what I remember.

With a somber face, he began his tale: A school bus of selected middle schoolers was on its way to a special field trip when it veered off the road and crashed in the woods on a cold, gray October day. The teacher and bus driver were killed, and so the students were left on their own. It was raining and getting dark, and the children were frightened. One student volunteered to go get help, and walked into the darkening woods. A terrible howl was heard, followed by a scream…then nothing. Another student bravely offered to find help, but shortly after her departure, another scream, another blood curdling howl, then nothing. As night crept in, two more students left, only to disappear with a scream and a howl. As night descended, the remaining students sat frightened, hearing the occasional howl of an otherworldly creature. Deciding to test fate, the last four students huddled together on the bus, hoping help would come. Sometime in the night, they heard growling outside the bus, and then what sounded like a large dog sniffing around. One student became frightened and ran outside in a panicked effort to escape, and all that was heard was his screaming as something caught him. There were only three students left now. Outside, a hulking shadow could be seen sniffing the doors and windows. Then, the bus began to rock as something pushed on it, seeking prey. Glowing red eyes and shining teeth appeared in the window, and terrified, the last three students ran from the shelter of the bus and into the dark forest. With a fearsome howl, the creature began chasing them. One kid tripped, and a scream of terror and ripping flesh was all that was heard as the other two sprinted down the mountainside. Another howl, then the sound of thudding footsteps. A short time later, the second student fell behind, exhausted. The last student went back to help, but red eyes and a hulking, furry shadow leapt forward and claimed the exhausted student amid muffled shouts and crunching bones. Terrified, the remaining survivor dashed further into the forest, but no matter how fast they ran, they could hear the pursing footsteps and feel the hot breath of the beast on the back of their neck. On and on they ran, forever into the dark woods, fear nipping at their heels with every step.

When the gray light of dawn came, a team of rescuers found the wreckage of the bus, but there was no trace of any human life. No clothes, no bags, no footprints, no blood. Nothing. As they searched, the only thing they found was a set of tracks that were too big for a wolf to make, and the claws were too long for a bear. As they continued to search, they heard a scream, then a deafening howl…and then nothing.

I remember us all sitting in silence for a few minutes until the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Nervous giggles followed us out of the room as we all went our various ways. On this particular day I happened to have practice for cross-country running (our middle school was 5-8th grade, so we had a variant that allowed younger students to compete in middle school events. It was a way to ensure we had a full team since the school population was only slightly over 200 students for all four grades).

As per usual in our area for late October, the weather was gray and cloudy with just a touch of rain. Good running weather, but not the best atmosphere after a day of ghost stories. With the story still stuck in my overactive imagination, I headed out to the field for warm-ups. Upon arrival, I noted that the team was a bit smaller than usual due to some students needing to leave early to help with the Halloween carnival that night. Unfortunately, the absent students included my running partner, who had neglected to tell me that they would not be there.

“Oh well,” I thought, “It’s not the first time I’ve had to practice solo.”

What I didn’t know was that the course for the day was the “Dead Man’s Course.” In other words, the longest trail we had in our itinerary that took us waaaaay into the woods and up a very steep and difficult slope with lots of deep, loose sand that we affectionately called “Dead Man’s Hill”, that then sharply dropped off into a particularly thick patch of the forest. Being the dedicated athlete that I was at the time, I decided to tough it out and brave the gray afternoon and the long, lonely trail on my own. After all, stories are just stories.

At first, things were great. I had managed to keep up with a couple of the older kids without much trouble, and I was feeling pretty good. Now understand, when I hit my stride while running, I tend to fall into a sort of zen, meditative state, and I lose track of reality for a bit. This is usually a good thing. However, that day was not a great day to “find my stride.” It was clattering of a falling pinecone that snapped me back to reality, and when I slowed to take stock of my surroundings, I found that I was on Dead Man’s Hill…alone. To this day, I’m still not sure how I lost track of my fellow runners. Taking a deep breath, I focused on making it to the top of the hill without tripping in the loose soil. But the more I huffed up the hill, the more I became aware of the gray mist that had settled in around me. It was damp, the woods were oddly quiet, and my breathing sounded far too loud for such a setting.

Reaching the top of the hill, I paused to get my huffing breath under control and to try and figure out where my teammates were. There was no one behind nor in front of me that I could see. I was alone. While this wasn’t the first time that I’d been alone on this trail, it was the first time I felt very uneasy being alone. The story of a strange beast hunting students roared to the front of my mind, and suddenly everything looked menacing. Taking another calming breath (and a very thorough look at the woods around me) I decided to continue on. The downhill side of Dead Man’s Hill was a bit tricky, and usually I took great care in choosing my trajectory down, as I’d lost my footing and taken a nasty spill in the past, but that afternoon had a distinct “fuck it, let’s go” vibe, and I am not one to brush off instinct when it comes to survival. I managed to thunder down the hill without incident, but hitting the path at the bottom gave me no relief. Adrenaline had been pumping for a while, amplifying my already over active imagination, and I swear I heard running footsteps behind me. Stopping to look, I found that I was still alone.

“Knock it off,” I scolded myself. “It was just a stupid story.”

But the forest was still gray, damp and quiet, and I was still alone. Picking up my pace, I began to think of the sanctuary that was the finish line about a mile away.

“I’m almost there,” I kept repeating to myself; however, my mind continued to conjure up the image of glowing eyes and hot breath on the back of my neck as I ran. I began to notice how quiet the forest was, and how loud my every move seemed to be.

“You’ll get caught for sure,” my mind told me.

“Shut up brain,” I scolded, “It’s just a stupid story.”

It was at this point I forced myself to relax and try to find my zen spot again. A half a mile from the finish line, I began to relax a little and find my sweet spot. This was also the part of the course that brought us near the back of some private property, so I knew that if I got into trouble, help was not far away. Then the rain began. It was a soft drizzle, with only the occasional splatter of bigger drops, but it was enough to bring me crashing back to reality and the realization that I was still jogging through dim, gray woods all alone on Halloween.

“It was just a stupid ghost story,” I muttered once again. “Ghosts and monsters aren’t real.”

And then it happened.

A deep, loud, lonely howl cut through the trees, sending chills up my spine and causing my adrenal gland to kick things into hyperdrive. I remember very little of what happened next, but I do know that was probably the fastest half mile in the history of mankind. Consciousness returned when I hit pavement, and I blindly thundered across the finish line. I vaguely remember my coach commenting on how much my time had improved that day, but I couldn’t care less. All I knew was that I was back among the relative safety of civilization, and The Beast had not caught up to me.

That feeling of having just cheated an otherworldly demise stayed with me for the rest of the night as my friends and I begged for treats at stranger’s doors. I do remember being hyperaware of any dark, wooded areas for the rest of the evening, and through the next day.

It wasn’t until practice the following week (while running the same course with my running partner) that I realized the howl I heard was from a dog that lived at one of the houses we ran near. To this day, running alone on damp, gray days near wooded areas makes that story pop into my head and sends a chill through me.

But hey, my running times on those days are also way better than normal.

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