We've reached a turning point on the hike and bike trail, and not in a good way. When you go there now in the early evening, there are a couple of spots, mainly near Barton Springs, where the insects are heavy and thick -- the kind that force you to shut your eyes, close your mouth and flap your hands frantically in front of you for a few yards while trying to convince yourself that the tickle in your throat is not a gnat working its way down your esophogus. Worse, the water from the fountains is no longer lukewarm. It's WARM. No relief whatsoever. Banks and I watered up at the 0 marker, and it was two miles before we got to the next group of cold water barrels. I could just about taste it. We pulled into the alcove right off the 2-mile bridge....and the orange barrels were already gone. Another two miles of hot, unsatisfactory fountain water.
You know what I noticed tonight, for the first time? As many times as I have walked that trail, I have never, ever recognized the same person twice. I mean, every so often I'll see someone I know, of course. But wouldn't you think that with the number of miles I've put on that thing, and often at the same time for several days in a row, I would start recognizing familiar faces? I don't. How is that possible?
Tomorrow's walk is going to be a challenge. Brian got a free dinner at a winery in Florence, and since Mark wasn't free, I got the extra ticket. The only logical time to do the walk is in the morning, but I know myself well enough to know that is probably not going to happen. Noon? Are you kidding me? That of course leaves late at night, after I return from dinner -- at a winery. With a designated driver.
I've been in tighters spots before, and I always come up with something. That's half of the fun of it.
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