We went to the shark aquarium at the Mandalay Bay.
They have real sharks there.
Marshall was eaten by a shark.
These are the two scariest sharks I have ever seen.
After being scared out of our mind by M&M sharks, we cruised out by Lake Mead to hike up into a slot canyon, which I think is called Lovell Wash. Despite the 110 degree heat, it was sweet. Kind of surreal. Just don’t be caught in one during a flood.
The dawrgs were panting machines. M&M said they usually run way ahead but they must have been extra dehydrated because they stayed pretty close. It’s hard to pass up hand-fed water.
It was fun to be in the mountains outside of Vegas. Cuz mountains are cool. And it’s not the norm for visiting Vegas. And these ones have stria.
Way back in 2004, Marshall, Shane, and I took a trip of epic proportions in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, climaxing with Mt. Whitney on Day 5 out of 7. For me, the idea of a seven-day backpacking trip was inspired by reading Lord of the Rings. One thing you miss in the movies is that a very large portion of the book, especially Part 1, is spent describing Frodo & Company hiking through Middle Earth. Our journey definitely doesn’t compare to the book but seven days in the wilderness is actually pretty long when you’re used to eating at Applebee’s on a whim or working on a computer all day long.
I just finished moving all the Mt. Whitney photos to Flickr, so check them out.
It has been snowing since yesterday morning. It dumped 21 inches in 24 hours at my house. We must have 2 feet by now… in hardly over a day. It’s nuts.
Tessa and Logan, Lacey’s sister and brother, have been staying with us since last Thursday. Totally fun (but beside the point). Tessa was supposed to fly out this morning and of course the airlines give no indication that anything will be cancelled until you drive all the way to the airport, check in your bag, and start walking to your terminal. At least that was Tessa’s experience. Lacey and I were almost back to our house when she called us with the news. So we turned around (grabbed some Starbucks first) and headed back to the airport.
I love driving my big blue truck in the snow. It’s amazing in the snow… invincible. Well, almost. On the way back from the airport, about two blocks from our house, I decided to take them on a little alley tour for funsies. Unfortunately, as we came to the cross street I slowed down to check for traffic and sunk down into the berm right before the street. Doh! The best part was that I had literally just finished reassuring Lacey that we couldn’t get stuck in the big blue snowbeast. After an hour of digging out the tires repeatedly and making progress little by little, a guy stopped and helped me realize I wasn’t using the hub-locks quite right for the four-wheel drive. I thought you had to lock the hubs after you got it in four-wheel drive. I had taken it out of 4-High to put it in 4-Low, and had unlocked the hubs in the process. My thinking was that I then needed to get the truck in 4-Low before locking the hubs. Wrong. I was informed that you leave the hubs locked and just move the shifter. So anyway, once we locked the hubs I went right into 4-Low and drove right off, as I knew I would. I simply couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t going into four wheel drive! But I had a lot of fun digging myself out of my neighborhood offroading, it felt like the good times I had with Jeremiah and Becky last winter getting their Jeep out of Rocks of Sharon, a place outside of Spokane we went snowshoeing. The difference is we had tow ropes and we were in the backcountry, not a city street… But honestly it kinda feels like the backcountry out there today… I saw someone cross-country skiing down the alley just a few minutes ago so…
This last September I followed Jeremiah and his dad in my Hydrocarbon Powered Eco-Vehicle up to his family’s property outside of Northport, Washington to play lumberjack, destroy the local biome, and get some firewood to heat the house this winter. It was totally fun and I’d love to do it again. Splitting a round chunk of wood into halves or quarters is really satisfying. And watching a tree fall (Jer’s dad, Jon, did the tree felling) is spectacular.
I’m awesome at not finishing things. I love it. You know that feeling of unaccomplishment and things hanging over your head. It’s great! Like, it was a total bummer that we actually made it to Kent Lake. If you recall, Shane and company spent several years not making it due to snow and cliffs and at least one near death, so when we got there it was a little too accomplishy for me.
By the way, I was originally going to talk about not finishing my Kent Lake story but I turned it into not making it to Kent Lake itself. Twisty.
Following the “perfect day,” this cabin would be a great place to escape to. It’s filled with enough food and supplies to survive at least a few months I’m sure. You probably don’t know what the “perfect day” is so let’s just say it involves bombings, network failures, government collapses, riots, lots of destruction, and maybe a nuke here and there.
There’s a large flat rock at the edge of the lake with many uses: tanning, sleeping, diving off of, helicopter landing pad. It’s sweet. Helicopter landing pad I’m not kidding, there are heavy steel loops drilled and epoxied into the rock. Instead of backpacking all the tools and supplies in to build the cabin and subsequently stock it, I guess they figured using a helicopter was easier. “Twist it around your head like a helicopter. North Carolina!”
I thought the water was going to be bitter cold (the glacier snow kinda gave me that impression for some reason). But it wasn’t. Counter intuitively, it was quite warm! It’s shallow and I pee’d in it a lot so that may have something to do with it. I had to go check out the glacier of course so Rusty, Emily, and I swam over. Right where that little jetty sticks out, the water got weird. You know how there are temperature layers in the water? Here it was, top 4 feet of warm, and then bottom foot of ICE cold. There was seriously a line between like 70 degrees and 40. That’s probably too extreme but you get the point. We stepped on the glacier and felt our feet burn from the cold and then decided we should test our fate and go up to the crack in the middle. I have to say I was skeptical but Rusty took off up there so of course I had to. I ran up and looked 12 or so feet down into the icy abyss and then found a little boulder to stand on until my feet recovered enough to run back down like a retarded quail. After we swam back to the heli-rock, Ryan and Rich were like, “Dude, you’re a monster!” I replied, “Huh?” “Dude you stood on the snow forever! You’re crazy! Monster!” Haha they couldn’t tell I was standing on a little boulder being a wuss! Now if I can just figure out how to trick everyone else into thinking I’m not a wuss.
Loop hikes are generally better so you’re not just retracing your steps like a salmon in heat. But it didn’t matter on this hike because even if you could find your steps to retrace, you’d be thankful because that might mean just one less branch to smash through. Plus the views are totally worth seeing again.
My final campsite was pretty rad, a reflection of my overall radness for sure. Remember my first night of mosquito love? I was not looking forward to female mosquitos whispering in my ear and making out with me again so I got some tips from Mosmo (Mosquito Cosmopolitan Magazine) and wrapped my face with my American Bad Ass bandana. They came around at first but quickly realized I was smarter than them and I had completely outmaneuvered them. Take that bizquitos! Bam! I slept like a cadaver.
It’s hard (for me, I’m sure Derek could do it in his sleep with a pirate patch, two missing arms, and a peg leg) to take photos that show how high and close to the edge I am. I was a few feet from the edge of at least a thousand foot cliff. I climbed up and sat on the rock to the right to cook and eat my dinner. Hardcore! Well, not really.
I had a blast and I’m stoked I got in on a unique and epic adventure. For me, it’s all about the epic, and this journey definitely added to my epic level. What’s your epic level?
I left my house just after 2 pm (AHEM, in my ”One People One Planet One Future” Honda Accord not my Republican Mobile ‘76 Ford F250 (by the way, I’m not a Republican)), stopped at Arby’s for Pick 5, and drove north towards Metaline Falls eating my ham melt, Arby’s melt, mozzarella sticks, an amazingly tasty cherry turnover, a small jamocha shake, and a Rockstar Energy Juice. Holy smokes I just added all that up, 2385 calories. Haha. I ate all that in like a half hour while driving! Anyway, I passed the looming rock at Metaline Falls that’s begging me to climb it and drove up the impressively smooth dirt road to the trailhead.
I stormed the trail around 5:30 pm, thinking I would have until 9:30 to hike the first 10 miles in the light.
On average, I assume I can go 3 miles per hour on trails but I think with photo stops it drops a little, and I don’t care so much about going super fast anymore, I’d rather make the scenic stops along way and check things out. That way I notice cool nature randomness adorned with old, surly boots.
Derek likes to show off the creek near his house that has a permanent bicycle stuck near the shore so I figured I should show off a wilderness creek that has a permanent black hole in the middle of it.
Good times outside straddling wilderness creeks! It took a balancing act, a near plunge, and about 15 tries to get this photo so you better respect it.
I think someone needs to throw a chainsaw in their pocket and cut through some of the fallen trees. Some you crawl over, some you go around, and some you go under.
One of the cool spots I stopped and wandered around at was an old cabin that was used [fill in from the book]. It’s sole purpose now is to look old and slowly rot away, kinda like Marshall’s cheap laminate flooring will look in a few months. Or grandpa’s teef.
I think it’s probably a good idea to Keep Out of this decroding cabin because it might decide the world is a better place without you and collapse on your face. Don’t ask me what I was doing, I don’t know, I was sticking my arm inside, opening my mouth, and wrinkling my forehead. At first I thought the cabin was cool and then I started thinking it was kinda creepy. I mentioned that to the folks I ran into and the lady was like, “Yeah, we thought about camping there but it was way too creepy.” Ha.
My camera battery died the first night so I don’t have any more photos, I think it’s time for a new battery…but to finish the story, I didn’t make it to the camp I was going to before dark, so I hiked the last couple miles with my headlamp, talking and singing loudly to warn the scary animals before I scared them and they latched their giant fangs and paws into my neck and squirted my blood all over the pretty flowers.
In the middle of the night, I awoke to a few sprinkles on my face so I jumped up and transformed my groundsheet to a tarp. It was my first time doing it but it was pretty easy, my only mistake was not putting it up quite high enough because when I woke up later it was drooping down on my sleeping bag a little. Not too big of a deal, my bag was still completely dry, but there was very little room to move around. Even so, my finely tuned ninja skills helped me flawlessly adorn my rain jacket. Picture Chris Farley putting on a suit in an airplane bathroom.
It was strangely quiet up there, no bugs. Kinda weird because there was plenty of water and lots of foliage and trees, but no mosquitos, no ants, no flies, no bees, no nay never no little crawly flyie things, none. In the morning, however, I awoke to hooves clomping up the trail, silence, and then a loud exhale. Spooky. It sounded like a horse. I peeked out under my tarp but I couldn’t see anything and I immediately started making noise and talking because I wasn’t in the mood to be trampled by a large wild horse-like creature. I figured it was a deer or elk or maybe even a moose but after rereading the part of the book I quoted in Part 1, I think it may have been a mountain caribou. I don’t even know what that is but using some Sherlock Holmes sleuthing skills I could probably deduce it’s a caribou that lives in the mountains. Whatever it was it sounded cool and I say we assume it was very large and could kill me with three hooves tied behind its back.
It rained the entire trek out, which was sweet despite no view of the mountains and valleys and my pants were completely saturated because I didn’t bring rain pants. For the last few miles my feet were sopping wet too, I guess waterproofing doesn’t equal Gore-Tex? I was worried my feet were going to explode with blisters like the 2-day 50-mile Orange Country trek I took with Marskies and Shane. But thankfully only walking 5 or so miles in waterlogged boots is ok. The rain and the misty mountains, I was basically walking inside a cloud, reminded me of Sa Pa in north Viet Nam. Did I just recently say that same thing in another blog? I can’t help it, I’m constantly reminded of that place because it was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. I better stop before I get all sentimental…
I hate preparing. I love the concept but I hate doing it. Preparing at the last minute is so much better, it’s more intense, I generally forget something either way, and it frees up my schedule to sit on the couch, drink Hamm’s, and watch T.V. As I was lounging on the couch in my skidmarked camobriefs drinking breakfast and watching Dora the Explorer this last Saturday, I accidently knocked off 100 Hikes in the Inland Northwest from the coffee table and it fell open to a 19-mile loop hike up near Canada. ”This is some of the wildest country left in Eastern Washington, among the state’s last sanctuaries for grizzly bears, mountain caribou, wolves, and lynx.” Normally, I would never think of doing anything remotely adventurous because it’s so scary but as I watched Dora I realized she’s just a little girl and she survives all kinds of scary adventures. And I know I’m just a chiseled, rugged man trapped inside a little girl’s body so I knew Dora’s courage would inspire me to girl-up and explore the scary wilderness.
So I scrambled to throw my stuff together for a quick and light overnight wilderness offensive. Quick because I’d need to hike about 10 miles before dark (that didn’t happen, the before dark part I mean). Light because my pack weighed in at 21 pounds (that’s including 6 pounds of water). Just for fun, here’s the gear and stuff I had on my back:
backpack
sleeping bag
sleeping pad
no-see-um netting
groundsheet doubling as tarp
stakes, guylines, and cord
pillow sack
long-sleeve base layer
lightweight jacket
rain jacket
first-aid kit
food: freeze-dried turkey tetrazinni, trail mix, 2 bananas & cream oatmeal packets, banana Powerbar, random chocolate energy bar, 3 Propel packets, hot cocoa mix, cheese & onion bread, 2 Laughing Cow soft cheese wedges
totally sweet Guyote Firefly light that screws on top of the Nalgene
headlamp
emergency light stick
digital camera
GPS receiver
totally sweet Gerber pocket knife BM gave me for best man gift
compass
bandana
chapstick
Purell
duct tape
toothbrush
flosser
gum
iPod
cell phone
car key
driver’s license
Red Badge of Courage
flips
I don’t know why I just wrote that list, perhaps I wanted to add to all the preachy and condescending backpacker lists online that suck because they’re preachy and condescending. There are the preachers that give you a checklist and say stuff like…wait wait, hold on check this one out from Wikipedia, “A flashlight protects against physical injury when traveling in the dark. A flashlight is also useful for finding things in the pack, observing wildlife in dark crevices and folds, and for distant signaling.” Haha are you kidding me? Wait, you mean I might not be able to see in the dark? And who in their right mind is looking down dark crevices and folds for a freakin’ scary wild animal that would claw out your eyeball and eat it for shining a light in its face? I can handle the preachers though because at least they might help some moron who wouldn’t think to bring sunglasses. Oh wait, I didn’t bring sunglasses on this trip…but it’s an essential…how did I survi, oh forget it, just listen to the backpacking list preacher!
But my favorite backpacking listers are the condescending ones. I just plain love condescending people in general. They’re so smart and hardcore. Oof. Here, take a quick, no doubt thankful, break from my site to read this short Backpacking List Philosophy. At the end, “The Editor” says he’ll stop preaching. But he’s not preaching, he’s telling you that if you don’t go ultralight and leave behind your big poofy bunny slippers you’re “neophyte” and “tenderfeet” and don’t have any discipline because you haven’t been on the trail half your life like he has. Oh man he’s so cool and hardcore I wish I could have spent half my life walking on trails so I could learn how to eliminate 2 pounds from my pack and write about how awesome I am because of it. But wait, self-reflection moment, was I acting all cool and hardcore above when I said I’d need to hike 10 miles before dark with a pack of only 21 pounds? Well, yeah, of course I was you stupid noob.
So how do you write a backpacking list without being preachy and condescending? How about, just say what you took on your trip, maybe point out a few things you were glad you had and why, and don’t act like you’re the only one who knows how to put some stuff in a bag and walk. The idea is to tell me your experience, not what you think everyone else’s should be. Ok so from my list above, what is it that stands out to me? 5 completely unnecessary things: Guyote Firefly, bread & Laughing Cow, hot cocoa mix, gum, and iPod. All 5 of these things are recent additions to my list and they all seriously contribute to my enjoyment. Forget hardcore lightweight fascists, added enjoyment is totally worth some added weight.
The Firefly stands out mostly because it’s rad. It’s a light in the form of a wide-mouth Nalgene cap that transmogrifies your bottle or cantene into a colorful lantern. It even has dimming capabilities for makin’ sweet tender romantic wilderness love, ohhhh yeeaaahhh. “Ooh that’s dirty.” “Oh yeah baby, I know, tell me I’m your woman.” “No I mean these freakin’ rocks and dirt and Indian paintbrush and ticks just went down the back of my khaki zip-off worker pants!” “Argh, I was trying to be all…wait, what was that sound?” “I think it’s a bea…” Well I’m sure “The Editor” would play the neophyte card but it adds light to your camp, looks totally sweet, sets the mood, and attracts bears so it’s totally worth it.
The first time I had bread and Laughing Cow soft cheese wedges was on a mountain village trek near Sa Pa in northern Viet Nam. It was part of a sandwich also containing tomato slices, cucumber slices, and hardboiled egg. Best sandwich I’ve ever had no joke. The second time I gladly accepted some from Shane on my recent trek into Kent Lake. This time I remembered how tasty it is so I grabbed me own bloody bread and cheese. By bread, I don’t mean Snyder’s sliced white, I mean some big delish roll from the bakery. I was a little worried it would attract bears because it smelled strong of onion cheese so I ate it before tucking in. I need to get meself some more of that sun-dried tomato bread, now that’s tasty! My point with this whole bread and cheese thing is that taking tasty food you want rather than simply coping with freeze-dried and trail mix is way more happiness.
Hot cocoa is filthy (the new word for awesome, ya oldtimers) after a day of hillwalking and fastpacking. Tea is disgusting and I don’t like getting up in the middle of the night for a caffeine piss. I had fun trying out my new blue Orikaso foldable mug too. I was slightly irritated because it leaks at the top where the snap is but I guess I just can’t fill ‘er to the brim, laddie. And it only cost 6 bucks so I can replace it with something better in the future if I feel like it. $20 for an Evernew titanium mug or $30 for a Snowpeak titanium mug is kinda ridiculous. I used to say whatever and shell it out for stuff like that but I’ve become much more opinionated and I think those are outrageous prices for a lightweight mug. Just give me something plastic for $5, good grief.
I like gum because it makes my mouth feel clean, which in turn makes me feel clean. That’s why I floss too. I don’t need to ruin my teeth just because I’m in the wilderness. I don’t think I drink as much water when I’m chewing gum, which helps conserve water, but I know my body needs water so I force it.
I’m a huge fan of the gum thing but I think the iPod beats it by a mile. Listening to music while hiking in the wilderness is incredibly sweet. I keep it soft and low so I can still hear around me and at the same time I’m bouncing to “the boss don’t mind sometimes if ya act a fool…at the car wash…talkin’ bout the car wash yeah.”
If I was a body of water I would totally be a high mountain lake. The ocean is filled with large creepy things like sea turtles and small creepy things like sea horses. Who wants to be known as the body of water with sea horses? The local city lakes are filled with empty beer cans and dead prostitutes. Who wants to be known as the body of water with empty beer cans lying around? And pools. Pools are just lame. I mean come on, how is swimming 20 feet and turning around, swimming 20 feet, turning around, swimmi…you get the point…fun or even enjoyable? Unless you’re a kid, then it’s not so bad. For those of you with pools, no offense, but you’re lame.
But I’m glad I’m only like 2/3 of a body of water because if I was a complete body of water I’d probably only fill a small portion of a bathtub and that’s just pitiful. Being only 2/3 water allows for cool things like bones, tendons, ligaments, fat, and huge amounts of muscle and brain.
Hmm, you may be wondering more about the adventure than my opinions concerning bodies of water. To refresh your memory but mostly add to it, this gnar-gnar epic adventch was to get into Kent Lake, a remote mountain lake near the Lionhead Unit in Priest Lake State Park in the Idaho Panhandle. You know, up in them thar parts. The word remote is not used by accident. Apparently, it took Shane and his fellow adventurers 5 or 6 years to actually get to the lake. For a few years, they tried to get in on Memorial Day and found that postholing through snow on high ridges isn’t exactly easy or totally enjoyable (although exciting in a mountain-just-kicked-my-budonkadunk way). When they did get closer in other years sans snow, they got stuck trying to rappel down cliffs with no visible way down besides eventually cutting the rope and base jumping without a parachute. While I’ve seen a few videos of base jumpers and skydivers surviving horrific falls, I think they wisely chose not to try it out, maybe just because they didn’t have a video camera on hand. Remember that time in Part 1 when I made a funny by saying Shane told me he almost died and then I was stoked to go? Well, I think Shane was referring to a 20 foot fall he took by slipping on wet rock. Weak.
For those interested in boring chronological recapitulations, I’ll now explain the trip as a boring chronological recapitulation. Except it won’t be boring because umm because yawn because excuse me because yawn ohhhh man because boring is for daytime television and I’m so not daytime television. Except my life is a little like a soap opera with all my scheming and conniving.
A little before you arrive at Lionhead at Priest Lake, you turn off and drive up a dirty bumpy road complete with fallen trees sawed off (and/or simply moved by Doug’s son, who is apparently akin to Paul Bunyan). (Not joking). From the little parking area at the end of road, you take out your scale and weigh your pack and then make bets on how heavy Doug’s pack will be, generally somewhere between 50 and 60 pounds. Ouch. Hey at least he’s soon willing to share all the tasty snacks he brought to drop some weight.
Shane, Emily, Rusty, Doug, Izzy, Leo (hidden), Rich, Ryan
From here, you hike up a cool trail intertwined with a little stream and sweet views of Priest Lake (first photo in Part 1) to the first ridge, which is probably about 2 miles? Not too bad. Ok I’m switching tenses now because I’m tired of saying you instead of me and I. Here’s my first campsite and the view I “awoke” to. Quotes because all I really did was swat at buzzing mosquitoes dive bombing my ears all night since I didn’t bring a tent or any face protection. I think I was nearing insanity by the time I got up but at least I got some mosquito-swatting muscle memory practice in.
“Bye bye trail,” said the monkeys to their trailmakers. From here to the lake it’s pure and unadulterated ridgeskimming, bushwacking, and boulderbouncing.
Ridgeskimming
Bushwacking
Boulderbouncing
And for a little extra fun and hay merma, gapjumping. I’m pretty sure that’s a couple thousand feet down there.
Gapjumping
Although it’s maybe only 3 or 4 miles from the first campsite to the ridge overlooking Kent Lake, it’s a grueling 3 or 4 miles. When I say bushwacking I mean it. You are literally forcing your own trail by smashing through bushes, squeezing between trees, slipping on, uhhh, groundbushes, for lack of a better word, and crawling over logs and boulders. This next photo is a 360 degree view from the ridge overlooking the lake. We hillwalked from the high peak to the right of the ridge where my fellow hillwalkers are and continued around the ridge on the far left and then down through the giant boulder field bordering the trees to the lake, if you can picture that in your tiny little mind’s eye. They failed before by trying to go straight down to the lake from here and they ran into cliffs everywhere. You can actually scribble your way straight down but you have to know write where to go and maybe bring an extra pair of nuts for the sketch. (Come on, admit that was at least a tad clever).
Live to Ride, Ride to Live. What’s so special about riding a Harley versus driving your car (or truck or Jeep (apparently Jeep owners are super anal about people not calling their precious vehicles trucks))? Or whatever crappy non-Harley motorcycle you’re riding? There are a few things I catalogued in my brain this weekend on my ride.
Smell. Instead of smelling your friend’s putrid body odor or the spoiling McDonald’s secret sauce leftover on the wrapper you threw on the floor a week ago, you smell the pine trees, you smell the alfalfa fields, you smell the sage brush, you smell the freshly cut hay.
Feel. Instead of whining that the air conditioning is too cold or not cold enough or isn’t working, you cowgirl up and embrace all the shifting temperatures and winds. One minute you’re in the sun and you’re smiling and the next minute you’re in the shade and the temperature drops 20 degrees and you’re shivering and the next minute you’re stopping for a break and you’re roasting because it’s 90 degrees and you’re wearing boots and jeans. And it’s not just sun versus shade. A lot of times it’s the shape of your environment, you know, like hills and valleys, dales and glens, ridges and ravines, gullys and knolls, lakes and mountains, supple curves and soft hair, smooth skin and soft lines, wait hold on………Ok back on track, one other thing, instead of feeling the lumps of mutilated bug chunks under the windshield cleaner at the gas station, you feel the bugs smash into your hand and explode into tiny pieces of guts and juice all over your arms and face.
Taste. Instead of, ok yeah the guacamole burger aftertaste is the same either way.
Sound. Instead of half-istening to your mother reminisce about her fond and super exciting childhood memories, you hear flapping wind and engine drone. So…
See. Instead of joining the rage with all the kids and watching How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days in the back seat of your Yukon Hybrid road trip warrior, you see the asphalt in all its glory, you see the fields swaying in the wind, you see the Ents herding the trees, you see the clouds rowing by like war-torn viking ships, you see the crepuscular rays shining through the trees, you see the gravel lurking in the shadows telling you it’s your phalt, you see the deer wearing a black cloak and carrying a scythe, you see the biker riding by with his hand extended in acknowledgment that they too are riding a motorcycle (WOW), you see the 2/3-naked honey with her thumb out whom you pass up because your helmet is strapped to your back seat and you figure at least your helmet has a use, you see the real hottie stirring up farm dust in a combine, you see the mountains in shades of forest green and khaki, then blue, then purple, then gray, then nothing, you see your mother leave her blinker on for 10 miles, you see the Malibus and Sea Rays clipping through the water under the sunset headed back to shore after a drunken day of pulling wakeboarders, skiiers, and tubers, you see the horizon tucking in the sun for nighty-night. You see yourself riding forever into the sunset.
Ta-Da!
