It was a "not a picnic" picnic

Saturday was one of our first gorgeous days here. Almost short weather.

After some yard-saling and Mr. Man installing a new alternator, we decided for an impromptu hike and picnic up in the mountains. A quick stop at the grocery store for some sandwich fillings, sunscreen applied, and we were off.
Just barely up into the mountains, around a bend and suddenly there were dozens of vehicles parked every which way on the narrow pass. The gate was closed. We were a day early. So we joined the other vehicles and parked and started walking. The hills were alive with the sound of music, and the whining of my two year old (who probably should have had an early nap). We made it about a half mile and then found a small bridge by the river to host our picnic.

Everything was delicious. The view and the sound of rushing water was more than relaxing. The tranquility was divine, lemonade was being sipped, when suddenly I heard a low growl. I dismissed it, but as it continued I looked around in every direction anticipating a bear. I asked Mr. Man if he heard it, and he had - it was him humming, which combined with the loud roar of the flowing river, made for a constant growling sound.

Of course the kids wanted to get as close to the river as possible. Which basically means "in" the river.





They cautiously climbed off the bridge and were going from rock to rock. While it was a nice day, there was also snow where we were, so the water was frigid.

They were jumping and getting a little daring when Mr. T fell in up to his chest. The water wasn't deep, but it was fast and cold. He started crying right away, and then we consoled him and talked him through climbing out, getting his wet clothes off and warming up.


Not minutes later Little E made a climb to a rather dangerous position and the water pushed him off and down. He was completely submerged. Mr. Man tried to talk him into standing up so the rushing current couldn't push him as easily. He stood and was muttering something incomprehensible, because he was so upset.
Finally it came out that he had lost one of his shoes... a floating hiking sandal. We spent the next little bit finding odds and ends of warm clothing in the bin in my van to warm up the freezing boys, as well as march up the river to see if we could rescue the shoe that was so important to Little E. A fisherman a mile down had seen it go by ten minutes before we arrived - it was a fast current. Little E was safe, even his glasses were unharmed, yet he remains steadfast on how he hates the river that stole his shoe. We thought about posting the remaining shoe on ebay: a shoe with a story, but it has seen better days and promptly found the trash can on our arrival home.


It was quite the adventure.

We finished the day with a long nap for The Toddler while the older kids attended a birthday party and Mr. Man and I worked on the ancestor wall. (It's not finished, but here's a sneak peek.)

Yesterday, the day the gate opened, we returned to pick out a campsite for Memorial weekend. It will take more than a closed gate, potential bear growls, snow, and a shoe-robbing current to keep us away.