Going up to the upper falls from the lower falls is one thing. It is four miles. There are a lot of stairs. Yes, a *lot* of stairs. Up and down and up and down. When you are not navigating monster staircases, you are traversing tree roots. Or slip-sliding through mud. And, yes, slapping at moe-skee-toes. Fun? Yeah.

The last time I walked BOTH from the lower falls to the upper falls and BACK, I was six months pregnant. YES, I was very healthy. And so was the beach urchin. At least, we figgered she was. Back in those days, ultrasounds were a big too-doo that cost about a billion bucks. So we didn’t do them unless there was some kind of real reason. And there wasn’t, so we didn’t. Was she okay? Yes, she was. And so, when I was six months pregnant, I went for an eight mile hike on a difficult trail where there was a lot of up and down and roots to walk over and all that other stuff I already said.

When we hiked from the lower falls to the upper falls today, we had seven people. The GG and me. The beach urchin who was unborn all those years ago and her younger sister. Pengo Janetto, who wasn’t born until four whole years after the unborn baby. NP Jane and nDave, always good to have around. When we ate at Camp 33 halfway through our trek, that old unborn baby (and her younger sister) were both legally served beers.

It was a death march. I am dead. Mouse sprained or bruised her foot or whatever. I have half a little toenail hanging off. We’re heading over to the Porter’s. Back tomorrow. Click here or on the pic for more…

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