|Thank you, Mr. Romero, for the pic of your party times|
Um, no, well...I thought I was going hiking. And swimming, but by the looks of it, yes? I did?
Let me tell you the story of how a hike led to inadvertent participation in a doucebag convention. A few days ago I wrote about my homesickness for Portland, Oregon. I find Oregon to be superior to California in almost every conceivable way, but my job and boo have anchored me in Southern California. (That's for anyone tempted to yell "then why don't you go back?!" at me.) As I mentioned, there is an abundance of concrete here in Southern California. You'd need to use both hands and feet to count the number of freeways in the area, and even city streets (in some areas) are huge, multi-lane monstrosities with speed limits nearing those of Oregon freeways.
|I'm in the forest!!|
|"Put concrete where the grass is and it's perfect" - boo, a hyper-Californian|
Once we got to the actual swimming hole at Hermit Falls, my heart sank. It was like all the ugly stereotypes of what young Californians are like were playing out in front of my eyes! Not to mention the graffiti and litter everywhere, including where we were swimming. As U.S. Forest Service officials finished cutting down a hazardous tree, one summed up my thoughts by asking "what is this, the douchebag convention?"
YES, IT WAS! Get to know the cast of characters in attendance:
Ugh. It was so gross. I finally gave in and swam a little, even going down the natural granite "slides" a couple times. The whole time I had this sense that we should leave before we witnessed someone fall to their death. How naive I was to think that I would be mostly surrounded by people who had come to the swimming hole for the same reason I did.
The search for enjoyment of California's natural splendor continues.