how did i offend a whole mountain?

It's actually, unbelievably, been nearly four months since I strolled over to New Hampshire and found the trail up to the top of Mt. Wantastiquet, with its glorious view from the top of Brattleboro and the farms and mountains beyond.

I was really happy and proud of myself that day, despite the fact that my fear of letting The Dog off the leash (because I didn't know him well enough to know if he'd actually come back after running off into the woods, and because I know he's not scary but someone else meeting an 85 lb. pit bull on the trail and not seeing his owner immediately behind may not have that faith) meant that I was dragged down the mountain by a large over-eager dog. Hence the orthopedist visit in June, once I finally admitted that my knee still hurt. A month and a half later.

Finally last night my desire to see that view again caught up with my frustration at not exercising regularly and not hiking enough (as summer slips away). I went home after work and got The Dog (with whom my time is slipping away with the summer, as he's most likely moving out with his owner at the end of this month. Expect a lot of I-miss-the-dog posts in September.), and we set out.

Problem: it's now late August, not June, and it really doesn't stay light until 9:30pm anymore. Of course I knew this, and all the way up the mountain I argued with myself about the wisdom of going all the way to the top. But I can get pretty single-minded sometimes, so I kept going, knowing I'd have to hoof it back down. I wouldn't even let The Dog stop every two feet to sniff things, which normally I have strong principles about, because it seems to me that not letting a dog sniff everything on a walk would be liike someone giving me access to the news for only an hour a day and then pulling me away from every story I started to read.

We made it to the top fine, but the light really was going as we went back down, and I don't know if I can blame that or the fact that I'm kind of klutzy in general, or the fact that I was wearing my glasses instead of contacts and they kept slipping down my nose. But of course I stepped wrong on a rock, twisted my ankle, and fell hard, earning some pretty good bruises on the way down. I lay there for a minute, waiting to see if The Dog would heroically race to my side (verdict: he's no Lassie), and then for lack of better options got up and kept walking. I twisted my ankles a lot as a kid and I know that ultimately you just have to walk it off and wait it out, but I must say I'd have preferred not to immediately walk for 45 minutes on a dark, rocky trail.

(Hi Mom. Don't worry, I had my cell phone with me and I know I get reception on that trail, so if I'd really been hurt I could have called for help.)

So the moral of the story is that I really like that hike, and I love taking the dog and going off to the woods, which has an incredibly soothing, strengthening effect on both my body and my spirit. But maybe that mountain and I just don't get along. Maybe it doesn't like The Dog. Maybe I should go slower on the way down and leave earlier so it's still light out the whole time I'm hiking.

Nooo, that couldn't be it.