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thosewickedlovelies · 3 years

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Into the Woods: chapter 2 | Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Summary: Instagram stalking ensues. Will you run into Frankie again?

Tags: no warnings AGAIN this is weird for me too but as mentioned I do have some smut planned for these two if anyone needs more incentive to read lmfao

Word Count: 2,783

A/N: As always, endless love to @yoditorian for this idea and her supervision of my writing about a social media platform I do not use 💗💚💗

Backstory / chap 1 /

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Later that night, Frankie sits at his desk, poring over maps both digital and physical. Where could you live to have traveled to the same point in the forest as him within a day? He’s hiked along the edge of his side of the woods, and knows that unless he’s missed some major construction, you can’t be there. So now he studies the other side of the treeline, looking at the closeness of the towns, any tiny side roads that could lead to individual houses like his own. But his frustration is growing.

There aren’t any. Not any within feasible walking distance, at least. And you hadn’t been grubby enough to have been camping. Frankie frowns, tracing the small highway which cuts through the forest. There, not far from the turnoff to his home, was a parking lot at the start of a web of trails through the woodland. If you started there and completely ignored the predetermined paths, heading a course straight for the pond...

“Huh,” Frankie murmurs. It wasn’t much further of a hike than his own. So that means you don’t live within walking distance- he shakes off an odd twinge of disappointment at that- but he does have an idea of your hiking range, if he felt like trying to seek you out.

He shakes his head. Don’t be weird. That was something Santiago might do- deliberately roam where he knew you regularly went in order to find you again. Frankie isn’t nearly so forward. His style is slower, less aggressive. What he’s already planning is his next cooking trip to the pond. Plants need water, and you forage for plants- he figures it’s a likely spot to run into you a second time.

Frankie hadn’t spoken to you again after you’d parted today. Only caught glimpses of you through the trees, from where he had dutifully remained by his fire. But at some point between the twisting of the campfire smoke from one way to another you had vanished, and not long after, Oso had returned to him, flopping down on her side with a satisfied huff.

He snorted. “Well, I’m glad you got to make a new friend.” Frankie rubbed her belly with only a little jealousy.

Now, feeling restless, he decides to upload the pictures he took today. He’s almost immediately distracted, however, by a string of likes from a new follower- concluding with a familiar photo of Oso and Gloriana. A prickle of excitement runs through him at a reference to foraging in the username. No way.

Frankie leans forward in his seat, straining for a closer look at the profile picture. A grin spreads across his face when the page finally loads.

It’s you. You, mid-laugh, perched comfortably up on a sturdy tree branch. He quickly scrolls down to confirm; but this is definitely you. Lots of photos of plants, and woodland that looks remarkably familiar. Your bare feet in a stream. A busy street at afarmer’s market, you smiling with a stall owner.

Frankie laughs out loud at the sheer absurdity of it. Here he was, worried about coming off as a mega-creep, and you’ve already shamelessly checked him out on instagram. He’s never hit ‘Follow Back’ so fast in his life.

You try to quash the squirmy anticipation in your belly as you pull on your pack, organizing yourself for the walk ahead. There’s no reason to get excited, you scold yourself. Even if you do see Frankie again, you still don’t really know anything about him.

You’d tried to stalk him online, but there wasn’t much information to go off of from his instagram photos. The pictures themselves spoke volumes, though. You’d always thought you could tell a little something of people’s personalities from what they posted, especially from pictures with their friends. Frankie’s main group of friends had a certain look about them- military maybe, a sort of cocky surety in their posturing. Despite this, they’re often grinning in candid moments, a relaxed, unself-conscious affection between the men which endeared them to you. Them, and Frankie. It’s a shame he doesn’t post more photos of himself. You recall again the sight of him in the woods, shafts of sunlight striking his expressive features, illuminating his kind smile and earthen eyes.

Then you shake your head. Too much time alone with your ever-churning thoughts have you romanticizing your meeting, when in reality you have no reason to expect to run into him again. He’d said he was out there all the time, but you’d never spotted evidence of any fires, or of a giant dog gallivanting around the place. Maybe he didn’t mean the pond specifically, but the forest in general.

“Argh!” Looking around, you stomp your foot in frustration. In your distraction, your walking pace had slowed, and you weren’t as far along in your hike as you should have been. Resolving to focus on your surroundings (because you won’t see Frankie again if you don’t get to the pond in good time), you splash some water on your face to refresh yourself and stride onward.

As you get closer to your pond, you slow down again, this time deliberately. All your senses strain for any sign of Frankie, but you don’t hear or see anything out of the ordinary. Then you smell it.

Smoke.

For a moment you panic. Is it wildfire season? Can you run away from a forest fire? Who do you call for this??

Then you smell something else- something familiar and edible- and you nearly pop yourself in the forehead. Of course you smell smoke, you idiot. What did Frankie say he did out here?? Cooked. You were literally just thinking about his instagram.

What is that smell? You have got to see this.

You step carefully to avoid making too much noise in the brush. Now that you’re looking for it, the gray haze of campfire smoke is obvious as it drifts through the trees. You give its source a wide berth, hoping for a chance to observe Frankie without him knowing.

Your wish is granted. You’ve come at him from the side, and now have an excellent view of his profile, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he stirs something in the heavy-looking pan in front of him. After a minute he looks satisfied, and retrieves the pan’s lid from behind him, arcing his arm carefully over the flames as he places it. Frankie sits back, a gusty sigh blowing from his lips. As you watch, he tosses his cap to the side, running his hands through loose curls and scratching his fingers across his scalp. You bite your lip in a smile at the sight of his moment of self-indulgence.

You scan Frankie’s setup and the area around him, searching for-

“Ruff!” The dog you were looking for crashes through the bushes beside you, and you yelp in surprise, automatically stooping to soothe her.

Dammit, how does such a large animal keep sneaking up on you?

“Oso?” Frankie calls. He’s standing now, still hatless, a few steps closer to you than where he’d been sitting. He glances uncertainly between the fire and your approximate location. You hear him try your name next.

You swear quietly. “No, not you,” you add to Oso.

“It’s me,” you reply, straightening. “Sorry, Oso got me again.”

The pleased, upward tilt of his lips reverses as he shakes a stern finger at his dog, whose ears perk happily at all the attention. “What did I tell you? No more accosting strangers!” he scolds, though he doesn’t sound the least bit upset.

With a expectant glance at you, Oso trots back over to him. Frankie ruffles her ears, definitively undermining any negative impact his words might have had. You regard each other tentatively.

“Hi,” you say lamely.

His face crinkles back up into a smile. “Hi,” he returns. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Every possible conversation you’d mentally practiced since your first meeting flew right out of your head. “Well, you know.” You shrug lightly. “A person’s gotta eat.” Inwardly you cringe.

But Frankie is unphased. “I’d be really interested to hear about the kinds of stuff you find out here. This is almost ready, if you don’t feel like foraging for your lunch today.” He gestures behind him to the pan on the fire.

You hesitate, and Frankie seems to sense your uncertainty. “Only if you want.” He holds his hands up in a universal ‘no pressure’ sign, even going so far as to take a step back in emphasis.

You tell yourself to stop being so paranoid. This is what you wanted, after all. All your curiosity comes surging back as the wind shifts and the smell of his cooking sets your stomach growling. “Okay,” you agree. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Great!” Frankie beams. He turns- and promptly trips over Oso, still sitting beside him.

“Fuck!” He curses, hands hitting the ground on the other side of his dog.

You clap a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter. Is he always this prone to falling over? “Are you okay?” You make your way over to them.

“Yeah.” Now upright, Frankie seems flustered to find you so much nearer than before, his gaze flitting over you before he remembers himself. He turns to crouch by the fire again, snatching up his hat and re-securing it on his head.

You seat yourself a short distance away and observe. Oso has reclined on her belly on Frankie’s other side, her eager gaze fixed on the pan as he prods the food. Apparently deeming it finished, he retrieves three paper bowls from his bag and fills one each for you, himself, and Oso. With a small flourish and a nervous smile, he presents yours to you.

“Thank you.” You feel like maybe you should say something else, but he’s already moved to face Oso, murmuring something to her while he gives her her bowl. You decide to let the food do the talking.

And are glad you did when fresh, vibrant flavors flood your tongue. Your eyes flutter wide with surprise. “Wow, this is...incredible. How did you..?” You look between the steaming pan and his rucksack, unable to reconcile the feast of flavors in your bowl with how much you’d have to carry out here to achieve it.

The man blushes at your praise, gaze lowering briefly to hide his pleasure, but he looks back up at your question. “Trade secrets,” Frankie says solemnly. Then he drops the expression with a little laugh, his confidence clearly bolstered by your amazement.

“Just kidding, I’ll tell you. If-” he points his plastic spoon at you “-you tell me how we haven’t crossed paths before.”

That’s a fair deal, especially if it means you get to learn more about him. “I’ll do my best,” you promise. In between bites, you outline your gradual exploration of your surroundings upon moving into a nearby village a little over two years ago. This year, you decided to strike out into new territory- this forest.

“I found this pond pretty quickly and saw the blackberry bushes right at the end of the season last year. I’ve been coming here ever since, keeping an eye on it I guess. But this whole wood is really a gold mine.”

Frankie looks fascinated. “I had no idea. I know some plants, but I couldn’t even begin to guess what all is out here.” His mouth opens to ask more questions, but it’s your turn now.

“What about you?” you quiz. “How have I not seen you before if you’re out here ‘all the time’?”

“Well, I’ve been working my way over from the other side of the hill.” Frankie explains, gesturing to the gentle ascending slope behind him. “I only found this place earlier this year. Didn’t know it was someone else’s territory.” He offers an apologetic grin, and you duck your head, feeling a silly, pleased warmth in your cheeks.

“Anyway, I moved into my place over there about five years ago? But I had a lot to do at first. I made a ton of improvements to the house, I was starting a garden. The hiking was kind of a refuge from that at first, a way to quiet my thoughts when I was stressing myself out.” He admits this last part without looking at you, as if his stress is somehow something to be ashamed of.

“But then I realized that I actually enjoyed it, and it made me feel safer to know the woods in so much detail. So I made it a hobby. Started taking longer walks, mapping where I’d been. Brought whole meals instead of little snacks,” he adds wryly.

You laugh as his humor registers, completely engrossed in Frankie’s tale. He seems to notice this suddenly, and shuffles a little under your attention. “So that’s me,” he concludes, clearing his throat self-consciously.

Any foraging you intended to do today has long been forgotten. You’ve been sitting with your backpack on long enough that your shoulders have begun to ache, and you sling it off impatiently. Frankie seems to further relax himself at the sight of you settling in, leaning back on his hands, his empty bowl given to Oso to lick clean.

There’s one question that hasn’t been answered. “...so how did you end up on instagram?” you probe.

He laughs outright. “I wondered how long it would take you to ask,” Frankie teases. His lopsided grin suggests he knows the impression he gives off. His mirth is infectious, and you find yourself grinning back at him, although you refuse to be embarrassed. He was the one who had thrown his phone at you, after all. And he had stalked your profile right back.

“Well, I’m no photographer,” he begins. “But I like the act of taking pictures. Really stopping and looking at what’s around you, what captures your attention. I was in the army before this, and it was just in-and-out of so many places, not actually experiencing anywhere for real…” Frankie watches you from the corner of his eye, speaking slowly, as if reluctant to say something which might change your opinion of him.

“My friend’s wife- the one whose kid I’m godfather to- suggested I use instagram as a way to organize my photos, but also ‘so they know I’m still alive out here.’” He chuckles. “I kinda like it now- it’s like a public diary. Mostly it was a relief to find that I’m not the only weirdo out there who likes cooking in the woods.”

You breathe a laugh reflexively, but your mind is turning over his words. I keep an instagram, he’d said before. Like a diary. Well, that’s...really cute, actually.

“Well, that makes me feel really shallow,” you joke, unable to think of any deeper response to his unexpectedly meaningful answer.

“Nah.” Frankie dismisses your quip with an easy smile. He asks you about yourself, then. How you got into foraging, other questions inspired by the pictures he’d seen on your page.

For awhile you converse with the uncomplicated lightness of two strangers who know absolutely nothing about each other, but want to. As a dessert offering, you take out the tub of blackberries you’d gathered earlier. Frankie’s eyes widen at their size, fatter than any berry he’d see in the supermarkets.

His freely shared emotions- fascination, curiosity, delight- continue to confirm your impression of him. Safe. His mouth works as he savors the sweet fruit, lips puckering, head nodding in close-eyed approval.

You will yourself not to stare. Looking elsewhere, you glance up at the sky- and the angle of the sun sends you leaping to your feet. “Shit-”

Frankie startles. “What’s wrong?” He tenses, but remains seated. Oso jerks to wakefulness where she’d been dozing by his side.

“I’ve got to start back if I don’t want to be out here at night.” Hurriedly you check your phone to be sure of the time, your heart rate slowing upon seeing it’s not as late as you thought.

Frankie stands now to hand you back your container, still mostly full of berries. You pause. “Keep it,” you tell him. “Make yourself a campfire dessert.”

His lips part in surprise, but you step back before he can protest. “Or at least take them as a thank you. For the food...and the company.”

He purses his lips. “All right. I’ll save making dessert for next time, though.” He subtly searches for your reaction to his implied invitation.

Anticipation lightens your limbs, but you keep your feet firmly planted on the earth. “Next time.” You’re not sure you manage to smother the excitement in your smile.

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Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb, @computeringturtle, @tobealostwanderer

#frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales x reader #triple frontier fic #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier imagine #outdoors insta frankie

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tsukishumai · 3 years

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Date Night w/ Atsumu, Osamu, Suna

Warnings: Drinking, Smoking (weed)

A/N: repost bc I checked and my posts weren’t showing up in the tags 😭 sorry if you’ve seen it already.

Pls enjoy (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

Atsumu

“Where are we going?” “It’s a surprise!”

Whenever Atsumu said those words, it meant one of two things: he’s put a lot of thought and effort into this and you’re about to have the best night of your life... or he’s done nothing, is winging it and kinda hoping for the best.

It’s been about a 50/50 success rate so you really don’t know why you’re gonna get.

“Tsumu, I swear to god, if this is like that one time by the beach...” “shut yer trap! We’re almost there!”

He opened the door to a small, studio like space, waving his hand and motioning for you to enter. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics but let out a tiny gasp once you were able to take in your surroundings.

Canvases perched up on easel stands lined the room, chairs set up in front with a little table next to the easel topped with paint supplies and wine glasses.

You turned to him excitedly. “Paint and wine night!?”

“Paint and wine!” Atsumu exclaimed, “Ya been complaining bout how ya miss doing art, so I thought we could do it together. I would’ve liked a private class, but they only did group sessions.”

“This is perfect,” you said, taking a seat and inspecting the supplies. Atsumu couldn’t help but puff out his chest in pride.

The room soon filled out with the other guests, the instructor coming in a few minutes after everyone’s arrived.

Atsumu chose a red wine, you chose a white. You were only supposed to be served by the glass but he insisted on a bottle each, and you weren’t the only one that has a hard time saying no to him.

“Babe,” he slurred halfway through the night, “is mine supposed to look like that?”

“Tsumu, we’re supposed to be painting an ocean... where did you get that red paint?” “I dunno, I just found it.”

The instructor tried to ignore the both of you giggling like idiots, but they had to step in when Atsumu started flinging paint at you with his brush.

“Miya-san, please stop chugging the wine.”

You chuckled at Atsumu grumbling next to you, trying to steady your hand while adding in your final details.

“Aaaand done!” Atsumu beat you to it. You take a second to glance at his canvas.

“Atsumu... what the hell is th-“ “it’s called abstract art, okay?! Ya normies wouldn’t get it!”

Where the hell did he learn ‘normies’ from?

You laughed at his canvas the entire way home, much to Atsumu’s chagrin.

Still, you hung it up on the wall by your bed, just so it could be the last thing you saw every night before you drifted off to sleep.

Osamu

“Where’d you hear about this?” Osamu asked reluctantly.

“I saw a post about in on Insta! My friends went last weekend, and they said it was amazing!” “I didn’t know you had friends?” “You know what, Samu...”

When you arrived at your destination, you couldn’t help but smile at the wide-eyed expression on your boyfriends face.

Hyogo was hosting a food festival, encouraging up and coming chefs to rent out booths and test out any and all unique recipes they could think off.

Booths on either side lined the road, crowds of people holding plates of food that Osamu didn’t even know existed.

“Which one should we try first?” You asked, but Osamu was already walking up to stand claiming to sell “Sushi Burritos”

“We have to do this strategically,” Osamu said, looking at the paper pamphlet he received from one of the information stands, “We should only get one thing from each stand so we have room for dessert. It looks like all the dessert stands are on this end, so we’ll just do one big circle.”

You nodded and gave him a salute, happy to be dragged around by the hand.

You’d never seen Osamu so animated, eyes darting from one booth to the next, ears practically steaming.

Your favorite was watching him take his first bite out of whatever creation you bought from the stall in front of you, his eyes would flutter close and the satisfied hum slipping from his mouth always brings your lips up to a smile.

“Let’s try this one next,” he said, leading you up to an onigiri stand.

The worker handed you a plate with three perfectly formed onigiri, your mouth watering at the scent wafting into your nostrils.

You took a bite... and another one... but your brows knitted together together after each chew

“Something wrong?” Osamu asked

You shook your head. “No, nothings wrong... it’s just, ever since I’ve had your onigiri, nothing else can really compare”

Osamu desperately hide the blush that was quickly spreading across his cheeks. “Oh really?”

“Yeah! You know, Samu, if you opened up an Onigiri shop, I bet it would be the best one in the country.”

Osamu laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he lead you to the next destination.

“You think so?” “I KNOW so.”

Osamu shook his head. “I couldn’t pull something off like that.”

You stopped in your tracks, tugging on his hand and forcing him to face you. “Osamu, I think you could do absolutely anything you set your mind to,” your tone was serious for a second before shooting him a wide grin, “and you would do it better than anyone!”

Osamu smiled, watching you run off to the next booth, thinking that if he had you by his side, then he could probably rule the world.

Suna

Suna has never ever striked you as the “hiking” type

So when he said he wanted to take you to a spot he used to frequent in high school, you were surprised, but oddly excited.

“How’d you find this place?” “You know... exploring.”

He took you to a park that was a 20 minute train ride from his apartment. The park was situated at the base of a mountain, and further back behind a canopy of trees was the beginning of a trail that you wouldn’t see if you didn’t know it was there.

Suna walked ahead, extending his hand behind him for you to take. He laced your fingers together, trudging along the path side by side.

The trail wasn’t really much of a hike as it is a walk. The terrain was relatively flat most of the way, green leaves bordering each side of the path.

Suddenly, Suna stopped, pulling you over to the side and moving aside branches and leaves.

“Rin? What are you doing?” You asked curiously, but he just said, “Trust me.”

Past the foliage was another trail, one that looks like it wasn’t meant to exist in the first place, formed only by repeating footprints that climbed up the slope.

Suna held out his hand for you to take, looking like he had every intention of climbing up the side of this muddy hill.

“Uhhhh, Rin, I don’t think we’re supposed to -“ “I said trust me, didn’t I?”

You grumbled at him, throwing snide remarks and thanking god that you wore an old pair of sneakers today.

It took about 10 minutes of climbing until you reached the top, walking past a couple of trees to reach a clearing.

In the middle of the clearing was a tree stump, different logs of various sizes encircling the stump. You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what it was you were looking at.

“You brought me to your old high school smoking spot?” “Hell yeah, I did.”

Suna walked ahead of you, sitting down on one of the logs and digging through the backpack he was wearing.

He stood up, and laid down a small blanket on the log, sitting back down and patting the spot next to him. You chuckled, taking a seat next to him.

“If you wanted to get high, we could have just done it at the apartment?” You said, but Suna just shrugged. “It’s nice to have a change of scenery once in a while.”

He dug out his bag, zipping it open and setting his grinder, blunt wraps, and weed on the tree stump.

You’ve always liked watching Suna prepare your blunts. He’s let you try doing it once or twice, but you could never get it to roll as tightly as he does.

You hear the telltale click of a lighter, Suna dragging the flame across the seam of the wrap before bringing one end to his lips, and lighting the other.

Once it was lit, he took a few deep drags before passing it over to you. You brought the blunt to your lips, taking in a deep breath, holding it until you felt your lungs burn, and letting out a big puff of smoke.

“Whoa there,” Suna commented, and you laughed in between fits of coughing.

“It’s been a tough week.” “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

The two of you sat there, you weren’t sure how long, exchanging stories about your week, making each other laugh with corny jokes you read online, showing each other tik toks and just enjoying each other’s company.

The blunt was finished long ago, and you notice Suna’s shoulders were much less tense, his facial features finally easing into a calm expression.

“Practice has been tough, huh?” You asked, and he let out a big sigh.

“Yeah... but it’s alright. S’long as we still get to do stuff like this, I’ll survive.”

You tilted your head as he stood up. “Where you going?”

“Let’s go, it’s getting cold and I got the munchies.”

“I am way too high to climb down that slope right now.”

And that’s how you got Suna Rintarou to give you a piggy back ride down the side of a muddy hill.

A/N: also sorry for the shittt format I’m on mobile :(

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isoscele · 3 years

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Lumberjanes Week Day 1 - First Day of Summer

(This is longer, weirder, and later than I wanted it to be, but isn’t that the spirit of the week?)

--------- Jo’s last exam is electrical engineering, and she finishes twenty minutes early. Dr. Quispe winks at her as she turns it in, and Jo tries to smile. The constant fog of formulae and diagrams dissipates from her head, replaced by a more all-consuming calculation.

One hour, six minutes to go.

She drops by her room, picks up the single backpack sitting on the bare mattress. On her way out, Gabi pops out of the lounge. “All done?”

Jo’s smile softens, takes on something real. “Yup. You?”

“I still have an essay, but I’ll probably do it at home. Got any big summer plans?”

“Kind of.” She shifts her backpack higher on her shoulders, silently debating how much to say. “I’m going camping with some friends.”

“Oh, cool,” Gabi says. “I wouldn’t’ve pegged you as an outdoorsy type, Jo.”

“Oh, you know.” Something under her skin humming, some outdated circuitry splitting into life. Forty-nine minutes. “In certain circumstances.”

Gabi giggles. As is the case with every one of their sporadic interactions, Jo wonders if they’re flirting. “Have fun! Don’t get eaten by a bear!”

She swans back toward her laptop and empty M&M packet. If she’d looked back for just a moment, she might have wondered what she had said to make Jo look so devastated.

---------

Mal has a pickup truck. It’s disgusting, with a windshield wiper that sounds like a dying macaw and a clutch that, for two heart-stopping seconds at the beginning of each gear shift, refuses to move at all. Mal has always defended it with a vigor previously only saved for her best friends and favorite bands.

Jo slides into the passenger seat. The radio is blasting heavy metal and the interior smells shockingly of mayonnaise; she has to blink hard to hold back her tears. There are some things that are so beautiful, so precious that it’s impossible to look at them head-on. Jo always forgets, when she’s away.

“You’re in the bus lane,” she tells Mal.

Mal obligingly starts the very long process of getting her car to move. “I thought the idea behind going to fancy science school with adults was that bus lanes were no longer necessary. Also, it’s fucking amazing to see you.”

“The buses shuttle students around campus. Also, I’m delighted that you’re here and I want to give you a hug.”

“Motion passed,” Mal says, and they squeeze awkwardly over the two melted Frosties in the cupholders.

The car jolts into first gear hard enough to throw Jo into the seatbelt, and then suddenly she’s laughing so hard she has to hold her sides to keep herself from spilling over.

“Sorry!” Mal says, “sorry, she’s jumpy around strangers,” which is what she says every summer. It’s a terrible joke laced with an irrefutable affection, and it’s so Mal that it makes Jo laugh even harder.

“We’re not strangers,” Jo says. She pats the center console, feels a little of the polyester flake off on her hand. “Me and this truck go way back.”

“Well, let’s hope you and this truck go way forward, too,” Mal says, “because I’m really not sure the engine’s going to last us to California.”

---------

They pull into the trailhead at around six the next morning, and make silent work of the luggage in the back. The sun’s just starting to come up, blinking warily between the table pines. Mal waves her on, and Jo sets off along the winding path.

The first year or two, they mostly stuck to campgrounds and RV parks, warming hot chocolate on the camp stove despite persistent, obnoxious heat. Jo didn’t think much of it at the time, but now she knows that Molly was trying not to inconvenience them, trying to keep them to the shallows of the forests. Trying to keep anyone from going too far, getting too stuck.

The fact that they were instructed to bring backpacking gear this year doesn’t do much to assuage the constant thread of worry in the back of her mind. This isn’t something they can dip their toes in anymore; the world is always a more dire place than they left it last summer.

The hike is long and treacherous. They go off the trail almost immediately, but neither of them need a map. It sounds cliche to say that they’re following something else, but they are. The anxious chitter of the birds and the sun balking at the edges of the trees and the distant hush of a river form a clear topography in their minds. They walk without discussion, taking each turn as naturally as if they had always lived here.

Around mile seven, they start to hear voices. Mal breaks into a run, and Jo comes crashing after her.

They knock straight into April, who catches both of them with practiced ease. For a moment, the air splits with three different calls of incomprehensible joy, and then they’re lowering themselves to the moss as a single, complex organism.

“Holy Felicia Flames, you guys look great!” April hollers.

“I have so much to tell you,” Mal says.

“Are you trying to set the forest on fire?” Jo asks, wandering over to where April has piled an impressive set of branches and old newspaper. She must have packed most of it in herself; the trees around here don’t look like that.

“Might make our job easier,” April says, and then a grim silence falls over the clearing.

I’m going camping with some friends, Jo had said, as if it was just camping, as if they were just friends. As if Jo’s relationship with these people, the things they had to do together, could be described in such a mundane and immaterial way. As if Jo won’t sit at the fire with them tonight, watching the way the sparks clear the shadows around their eyes, and love them with everything she has in her. As if she won’t hate them, too, for making her come here.

Here they are, in the annual half-second when they don’t know what to say to each other. The moment when the summer teeters, still soft and blameless, on the edge of something sharper.

But then April asks Mal how the band’s doing, and the moment passes.

“I wish I’d thought to bring pictures,” Mal says. “We played at this amazing venue last January--there was this skylight, and it was pouring rain, and people just kept coming in because it was so miserable outside.”

“Aw, that’s great,” April says. “I’d love to come someday, but y’all sell out so fast!”

Mal scratches the back of her neck, looking embarrassed. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“What are we talking about?” Ripley half-shouts. Jo yelps, and then that turns into more laughter, which turns into an incredible group hug. For someone who carries no fewer than three kazoos on her person at all times, Ripley can be surprisingly stealthy when she wants to. Jo never hears her approaching anymore; first, there’s nothing, and then there’s Ripley.

April hugs Ripley so hard she lifts her off the ground. Ripley immediately starts listing all the weird birds she’s seen this year and asking April to cross-reference them with her encyclopedia of creatures.

And then, of course, there are four.

Jo drifts half a step closer to Mal and extends her hand. Without tearing her gaze from the blot of trees, Mal takes it.

Last year, Molly had been sort of--sick. They’d been camping on a bauld where eagles circled high overhead and the flowers were all this terrible saffron yellow, bent under the shadow of the rocks. Molly had walked with a stick, like the Bear Woman--like Nellie used to use, thick and gnarled. But she said that was temporary, just because of a bad fall, and no one talked about how her freckles had almost overtaken the white of her hands, how her eyes were spotted with yellow and seemed to constantly rove towards the sky.

No one had mentioned much of anything, because the year before that they had buried Nellie in the soft earth beside the lake and they had all tacitly agreed not to talk about it. Maybe that’s what growing up is like--finding more and more things that no one is willing to say. Holding a grief in you that sometimes feels so bright and all-consuming that it can’t possibly be real.

“She’ll be okay,” Jo says, quiet so as not to kill April and Ripley’s buzz. “The forest loves her.”

But that’s a cold comfort, because they have all spent the same six summers learning that the forest’s love can be the most terrifying force in the world.

---------

It doesn’t take long at all before a familiar sound comes rolling in from the mountain. It’s a sound like dinosaurs, like goliaths, like the world collapsing in on itself.

It’s a sound that heralds the approach of Bubbles, who these days is about the size of a house.

I don’t know! Molly had said, laughing, the first time they had seen him again. I guess he was just a baby when we met him. I’ve been feeding him a lot of peanut butter lately, maybe that’s it.

Bubbles crashes through the trees, chittering so loud that it sounds like the laughter of a god. On his back, perched awkwardly against the scruff of his neck, sits Molly.

She does look okay. Their home hasn’t killed her yet.

There’s a little more white in her hair, a little more curl to her fingernails. But she’s smiling so wide it’s almost like they’re just here to catch up, like just for today they can afford to be a group of friends and nothing else.

Later, of course, will come the campfire, and the birds falling silent, and even the cicadas forgetting to cry, and they will map out another fraction of the world. They’ll find another dozen stone men, sleeping still enough to be dead. They’ll find perhaps hundreds of potential apocalypses, and they’ll spend the month eating little and sleeping less, preventing the end of the world again and again and again until they can’t even remember what they’re saving.

But right now, Molly slides down Bubbles’ side and yells “Guys!” and the summer bursts into being.

#lumberjanes week #lumberjanes #my writing #sorry about the weird formatting this website is a genuinely terrible place to publish writing

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karasuno-chaos · 4 years

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Tree Climbing (Yamaguchi x Reader)

Yamaguchi just strikes me as a plant person.🌳 -Giz

Word Count: 1,293

Fluffvember masterlist

“Y/N slow down!” Yamaguchi laughs as he runs down the path after you. You’re laughing too, but you don’t slow down until you reach a giant oak tree a few yards off the trail.

“Just look at it Tadashi,” you say, stopping in front of it. “It’s glorious.”

“It is impressive.”

The trunk is sturdy, and thick branches twist from its girth to carry the canopy outwards and upwards. If you jump, you can easily reach the lower branches.

“I’m going to climb it,” you announce.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Of course! With branches this low, it’s practically begging to be climbed.”

“Be careful,” Yamaguchi calls as you haul yourself into the tree. The initial scramble to get off the ground is always the least dignified part of the climb, but you manage it without too much fuss. The bark is rough beneath your hands as you reach for the branches, but the grip it offers is firm, and you feel secure as you pull yourself a little higher.

“Tadashi, come on!” you call, noticing your boyfriend is still on the ground watching you.

“No thanks. I’m good.”

“You have to get up here. It’s like a different world. I want to share it with you.”

You know your entreaty will change his mind--he rarely says no to you--but you don’t feel guilty because you mean every word. When you leave the ground to weave through the branches of a tree, there is a sense that you’re entering a different world.

“Okay, I’m coming up,” Yamaguchi concedes. You hang out amongst the lower branches in case he needs help, but he manages to scramble up just fine.

“What do you think?” you ask once he achieves a comfortable enough perch.

“It is pretty cool.” His eyes take in the lattice of branches overhead. Despite its age, the tree is thriving. Clumps of leaves and acorns form a dense canopy, blocking much of the surrounding view. You don’t mind the sense of enclosure because it heightens the feeling that you’ve entered somewhere special.

“I’m going to climb higher.”

“Are you sure?”

“The branches are definitely thick enough.”

“Okay.” He sounds unsure, but he follows as you pick your way further into the canopy. You’re careful to avoid scuffing the bark or breaking branches as you progress, but you have little to avoid as most of the growth this low and close to the trunk is well-established.

“Hang on.” You pause to look at Yamaguchi. “Are you afraid of heights? I never asked.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“If I go too high and you get uncomfortable, let me know.”

“I will,” he promises with a slight chuckle. You’re always running ahead and diving into activities before him, but there’s always a moment where you turn back to check on him. It’s not that you don’t think he can keep up. In general, you think he’s stronger than you, even when he’s gentle. When you check in on him, it’s your way of showing that you care while making sure you’re not diving into something that he really doesn’t want to do.

“Here, look at this,” you say, pausing in your climb. Yamaguchi comes up beside you, and the branch you’re standing on dips a little further under your combined weight. “It’s the perfect spot.”

“For what?”

“For sitting. Tree climbing isn’t all about how high you can go. You have to sit and enjoy it, too.”

“You sure have a lot of thoughts about tree climbing,” he observes as you hoist yourself into a perch where two branches emerge from the trunk in close proximity. They’re almost parallel and just wide enough to support your backside as you sit.

“Well, I have a lot of experience. Now come here. There’s room for both of us.”

You scoot further down the branch as he carefully settles in next to the trunk. Then you shimmy back to snuggle against him.

“When I was little,” you say, “my best friend and I would go to the park near our houses to play. There was this huge willow tree there, and we would spend hours just climbing and hanging out in the branches. We tried to hide from our parents a couple of times, but they caught on pretty quickly, and whenever they couldn’t find us, that tree was the first place they’d check. I have a lot of memories of pretending to be a wood fairy and wasting whole afternoons in fantasyland among those branches.”

“That’s cute,” Yamaguchi says with a smile.

“You can say it’s weird. I won’t be offended.”

“I’m serious! Watching how you climbed this tree like a natural, I could totally believe you’re actually a forest sprite.”

“You’re too sweet,” you laugh, dropping a kiss on his cheek and admiring how his blush highlights his freckles. “Did you climb a lot of trees when you were little?”

“Not really. We didn’t have any good climbing trees in my neighborhood.”

“Well you climb really well for someone who hasn’t done it often.”

“Thanks.”

You lapse into silence for a bit, listening to the rustle of leaves and clack of branches. You’ve had a wonderful afternoon hiking some of the trails outside of town, enjoying the nice weather and each other’s company. You like these kinds of dates. Wandering around with Yamaguchi talking about anything that crosses your mind is actually really fun. You always learn something new about each other.

“We should probably keep going,” your boyfriend says, placing a kiss on your temple before maneuvering to start the descent. You sigh but follow him without a fuss. He lets you pull him along on adventures, and you let him keep you on track when you have train schedules and curfews to adhere to. That cooperation is one of the many things that makes your relationship work.

The climb down is slower than the climb up. Somehow working with gravity instead of against it heightens the risk, but you both have a good sense of balance and manage the descent without any scares. Once again you admire how well this tree lends itself to climbing. It was a lucky find on your walk today.

You watch Yamaguchi swing safely to the ground and brush off his hands before you take up position on the lowest branch.

“Tadashi, catch me!”

“Are you sure?” There’s a hint of worry in his expression. You could easily jump down by yourself, but it would be more fun to land in his arms. Even if you both end up tumbling to the ground, it will make for a good memory.

“Please,” you insist with a nod and a smile.

“Okay.” He widens his stance and extends his arms toward you. “I’m ready.”

With a happy cry, you push off. There’s a glorious moment when you’re flying through the air before you connect with your boyfriend. He releases a little oof and stumbles back a few steps, but he doesn’t fall. You laugh delightedly. You knew he’d catch you. He always makes you feel safe, no matter what you put him through.

“Thank you,” you say, pulling him in for a kiss as your feet reunite with the ground. “That was fun.”

“Thank you for warning me before jumping.”

“You would have caught me anyway.”

“Maybe,” he says, lacing your fingers together to lead you back to the path, “but you would have given me a heart attack.”

“I’m glad I could spare you that.” You’re sure you’ll probably scare him plenty in the future as you continue to dive headfirst into excitement, but he’ll be there to pull you back to safety when you need it. There’s no one else you’d rather have along on your adventures.

#haikyuu!!#hq #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #yamaguchi x reader #fluff #fluffvember #trees #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu!! fanfic #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq fanfiction #hq fanfic #hq scenarios

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parkchroniclers · 3 years

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for this adventure we went to Nicholson Nature Center! it might be a little hard to find this park as there is no park sign by the road. instead you turn in at the Macomb County Public Works Department. the nature center itself is mostly a series of trails starting in the back corner of the Public Works parking lot.

by the sign is an impressively large rock (water bottle shown for scale) perfect for perching and eating a snack. for those not inclined to climbing, there is also a picnic pavilion with tables at the start of the trails. while there is a spot for a trail map, the map itself was missing when we were at the park, so make sure you have someone with a good sense of direction with you. also towards the beginning of the trails is a watchtower perfect for birdwatching!

there are a lot of fun little backtrails heading off of the main trail that were fun to explore, but be careful where you step, as the park has a lot of poison ivy in the ground cover and there’s stinging nettle as well. we’re not sure of the exact mileage but the trails here are fairly extensive, including forested parts and field trails as well. on the trails was a very cool naturally formed archway, and there are a couple of access points down to the North Branch Clinton River, which is a lot of fun to explore.

we got to see lots of flora, fauna, and fungi, including deer, squirrels, a variety of bees, chicken-of-the-woods, a northern flicker, wild cucumber (not edible), and american jumpseed.

we definitely recommend this park as a great place for a hike and lunch.

#parks #photographers on tumblr #michigan #pure michigan #nature #nicholson nature center #clinton

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whoperlokian-bendingismagic · 3 years

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New Short Story

Distance is a funny thing. Or rather, perception of distance is a funny thing. Human brains can really truly understand distances of up to about ten miles. Anything longer than that and it’s just math. Driving down a road, if you have 240 miles left and you’re going eighty miles per hour, you have three hours of driving left. You don’t really know what that means, though. It’s just ticking on a clock, and going from landmark to landmark, if there even are landmarks to use. The human mind is always approximating, always recalculating sensory inputs based on past experience It only knows what it’s been designed to know.

Never trust your own mind if you have instruments. Instruments first. If there’s no instruments then don’t trust your two-second gut. Trust your two-minute gut.

I grew up in the Eastern Urban Complex. The night sky was nothingness, a velvety black backdrop to a million lights and and towering buildings stretching up and over.

My parents saved up for a vacation. A proper one outside of the urban complex, not just a trip to a different borough where you didn’t have to do the cooking or cleaning for a week. We went when I was 10. We took a train that had no windows. Passengers who had never lived outside the city experienced agoraphobia and severe confusion. It was better to entertain everybody with screens, caused less panic. The train was luxurious. The chair was comfortable, we were served delicious food by pretty ladies in tidy uniforms and gleaming smiles, their hats perched just so over their immaculate hair.

We took the train out of the city and all the way to the end of the line. If you asked me how many miles we traveled on the train ride, I would have told you about fifty. I looked up how far the trip actually was years later. It was more like seven hundred miles.

Distance is relative. Distance is perception and perception is false. Check your instruments, check them again. If the numbers seem wrong to you check the backups. It’s probably you that’s wrong, though.

As I stepped out of the station, I found the world too big, too open, and I suddenly felt too small. There were people there to help us get acclimated. Focus on ourselves, then let our senses explore this alien experience of openness, of distance, of the desert. We got into a car and were driven out towards the mountains. We couldn’t see the mountains from the train station, but that was what my parents told me. We were driving towards the mountains. I’d never seen mountains in person. I’d looked at pictures in a book, though. I’d heard they were big. When we crested a hill and could suddenly see the mountains, I shrieked. They were coming right up on us and we were going to crash into them.

My parents shushed me, but the driver chuckled and said that was a pretty typical response. Of course, we didn’t crash into the mountains, they were still miles away, and as we got closer, the slopes became gentler, smoother as we got closer, and the road climbed up through a canyon between two peaks. The trees changed. The Eastern Urban Complex has trees in its thousands of pocket parks between buildings, shady trees with broad green leaves that turn golden and orange and red in the fall. The trees here had needles. Very little grew beneath the trees, and the dirt felt more like dust than anything.

We finally got out of the car at a retreat. There were a series of buildings situated around a bigger building. THey were all built out of logs. My mom told me the smaller buildings were called cabins, and the bigger one was called a lodge. I had read about cabins before but didn’t think they looked quite like that.

Perception and reality are often at odds. Instrumentation distills reality into digestible pieces of information we can use to modify our perception to match reality. The instrument says I’ve been “here” for two days, but that feels wrong too. I don’t have any backups to cross-check, though.

There were other children my age there that I played with, trails to hike, a forest to explore and rocks to climb. I don’t remember a lot of details from my time there. I couldn’t tell you the color of the sheets on the cozy bed. I couldn’t tell you what meals we ate, or the names of the children I played with. There’s a distinct smell, one of dust and pine trees that’s locked in my mind, though, and there’s my first sight of the true night sky.

My parents let me stay up late, and we would go out and look at the night sky. It was practically littered with stars, big and small. I’d never thought of the sky as an object before. I thought that maybe if I got a good 50-foot ladder, I could climb to the top of that and touch the stars from there.

Examine your thoughts. Why are you thinking what you’re thinking? What’s the basis? Answer these questions honestly to yourself and to others, it can save your life, your crew, and your mission.

That experience planted something deep in me and I strove to find a way to touch the sky. A 50-foot ladder is hard to come by, but if you really want to touch the sky, you need a fusion drive. The best way to get a fusion drive is to join the Naval Scientific Exploration Team, NSET, pronounced “enset” for short.

I poured myself into my studies. I had never been a slack student, but with a distinct goal in mind I became great. I studied general spaceship engineering and navigation. NSET only takes the best and brightest, so I fought to prove that I was good enough.

There was an experiment, or demonstration done on every NSET cadet after they were accepted. We were asked a series of “true or false” questions with only a second to answer each one. “An object released in Earth’s atmosphere will fall to the ground”, “Magnets attract opposite poles”, “A ball thrown will approximate a circular trajectory”, Easy, true, true, false.

“The earth revolves around the sun” false. “Orbiting objects experience gravity” false. “The world is flat” true. We all knew the correct answers to those more difficult questions, but without time to think, we grabbed for the convenient, intuitive answer. Answers that are convenient or intuitive are not by definition correct. They are, however, easy to fall prey to, because they fit so neatly into a caveman view of the world.

Cavemen have never traveled through space, though. Cavemen have never traveled at a million kilometers an hour, or measured distances in light-minutes. Cavemen were never one mistake away from their entire support environment vanishing in a cloud of twisted metal and shattered ceramic. Cavemen never watched their friends desperately fight against nothing and be pulled apart from each other by first order kinematic equations, enacted ignoring losses due to air resistance or friction. At NSET academy, we watched tapes collected from black boxes from early manned explorations deep into the solar system. I can’t sleep sometimes thinking about the panic and terror flooding those people as they were ripped from their venting ship and out into space.

So we had it drilled into our heads that we were unreliable, that trusting our gut could be catastrophic. The first practical exercise in the NSET training program is called “the egg”. It’s a sensory deprivation tank. You feel weightless, with no light, no ambient temperature, no sound. It starts by feeling liberating. The mind is free to wander, to contemplate anything. People outside NSET use sensory deprivation tanks as a meditation aid or a brain-booster, but they get to control when they leave. The Egg isn’t something you pay for, or do to enhance your mind, or leave whenever you want. It’s a test and a demonstration. Some people lose it hard. They get transferred to a different branch of the Navy, or optioned to leave with no shame or dishonor, just getting admitted to NSET is an easy way to join a private spacer corp. NSET isn’t for everybody, and if you can’t handle The Egg, then nobody wants you on their NSET crew.

I didn’t fail The Egg, but I can understand why people do. When all the senses you rely on to provide information don’t have any information to provide, you start losing the more esoteric senses supported by the main five. First, you lose your sense of form as your body dissolves into the nothingness surrounding you. Next, you lose your sense of space entirely, if you don’t have a being, a shape, then how can you know anything to be anywhere? Without space, you lose time. Some people, particularly those living with mental conditions like ADHD or depression can already have a loose grasp of time, but even the most neurotypical hard-ass king of punctuality starts losing their sense of time.

Then, The Egg opens. The light is disorienting, sounds are suddenly back, and you have a shape, a form, a place, there are things happening, which means that time works again. Then comes the question: “How long were you in there?”. Nobody answers that one correctly.

Two days can’t be right. The oxygen and battery indicators haven’t even gone down to 75 percent.

You should not trust your intuition, your internal senses to make decisions for the entire space ship. That is the constant lesson at NSET training. There are tips and mental exercises to help with some of the shortcomings our minds have, but our instruments are always the key. We go back into The Egg on a routine basis, and now that we know what’s coming for us in the prolonged sensory deprivation, we can react. Focus on your breathing, your heartrate, your fingers and toes. Move periodically to pull yourself back into awareness of your body. The heart is not a good clock, but it’s better than no clock. Count your pulse to use it as a rudimentary timepiece. Don’t go with your initial gut feeling. Instead, if everything else is going wrong, think about the information you have available for two minutes and then check your gut. If you’re only given a second to answer, you think the sun goes around the earth, but with two minutes you’ll know that the earth moves around the sun.

Everybody is trained in every function of the ship. There are specializations, but we aren’t running routine trade routes to Mars or microgravity mining operations. NSET’s goals are to travel to the great beyond, past the Oort cloud and set courses to new solar systems. The ships have the latest technology, the best drives, and the best crews.

I’m ostensibly a navigator, helping track progress and plot courses as we travel further than any human ever has. However, if need be, I can pilot the ship, rebuild the reactor, maintain environmental controls and life support, and repair damage to the ship’s hull.

With new drive technology and a different goal in mind, we surpassed the limit of Voyager 1 as the farthest human-made object from earth in just eighteen months.

The time doesn’t make sense, the O2 and electric readings don’t make sense, checking trajectories. Which way am I headed?

The sun is nothing but the brightest star now, out of millions visible to my naked eye. My repair mission timer is reading three days now. The ship is long gone, I don’t know how I got separated but I did. I’ve been using every trick in the book, but staying out here is almost worse than The Egg. Three days doesn’t make any sense. I had O2 and suit systems batteries good for a five hour repair shift. I started using my heartbeat as a timer, I counted to 3600 beats, an hour, and the gauges haven’t moved, not since I left the ship.

I’m not cold, but that’s not surprising. The one-second gut reaction is that I should be solid ice by now, but space doesn’t work like that. Heat transfer occurs through three mechanisms: convection, conduction, and radiation. Convection requires a moving fluid, and conduction requires a contact with a surface at a different temperature. The void of space requires neither. The suit is designed to minimize radiation heat loss, so I’m keeping a level temperature, especially now that I’m not exerting myself. I’ll be warm for a long time after I die out here.

I do have to keep myself moving, minimally at least. If I stay still for too long, I can feel myself becoming the universe. My arms and legs melt out from me and start spinning outward and outward. My chest becomes so bright and before I know it I am the universe, I have no form, I have no volume or dimension and I become the galaxy around me, until my suit beeps, or an itch develops on my skin and I snap back into myself, and now the repair mission timer reads four days. Oxygen at 75%, battery at 75%.

In calculus, when the teacher was repeating subjects to the rest of the class that I already understood, I would contemplate infinity. Calculus deals often with infinity and zero, and I would contemplate just how large infinity was. I would try to fit it into the room with me. Over there, in a corner, there’s a tiny speck. That speck contains all human knowledge. I make it just a little bit larger and add another infinity inside the infinite volume of the room. I add all the functions that have a derivative, the speck grows infinitessimally. I add all the functions for which no symbolic integral exists, the speck grows less. This whole vast room is everything we don’t know and do know and even then it’s merely vast, not infinite. Now I’m experiencing just how wrong I was. Infinity stretches out from me in all directions and I cannot see all of it. The stars slowly rotate around me and maybe if I had a really good fifty-foot ladder I could climb up that and touch them.

I’m traveling at close to a million kilometers every hour, every 3600 heartbeats, more or less. I may as well be going nowhere. The stars aren’t changing, nothing is changing. I’m only going a million kilometers an hour compared to earth. There are all kinds of things that I’m traveling slower than, or I’m in lockstep with. Motion is relative, distance is relative. I don’t have instruments that can tell me where I’m headed or how quickly, or if anything is coming.

Day five, and I remember that I haven’t had a drink of water since before I left. Two hours before I left I took final hydration, then I peed before getting in the suit because I hate peeing in the suit. I haven’t peed either, I haven’t felt the need. Haven’t taken a shit. Haven’t felt the need.

I flex my fingers and toes. Then I roll my head and smile and frown and squint and stick my tongue out. I say a few words, mostly to practice words.

The word “planet” is ancient greek for “traveler”. Technically, then, everybody on the ship is a planet, the ship itself is a planet, and I’ve somehow become a planet all my own. I’d have to call myself a rocky planet. I have a crust, and underneath that I’m liquid, and all my heat comes from the core of me. I haven’t eaten food in five days, either. No food, no water, oxygen at 75%, battery at 75%.

It took me a while to notice the dark spot in the sky. The void of stars, where there was nothingness. There hadn’t been nothingness there before but now there is. Day five and a half, another star just vanished behind the penumbra. A rogue planet, it must be. I’m traveling so fast compared to earth, I’m probably still going pretty fast compared to this rogue planet as well. I’m on a pretty direct approach with this black nothingness. Not a black hole, there’s no accretion disc, there’s no gravitational lensing, just black. A dark planet just as lost as I am. I wonder if I set foot on it, will it drain all my heat through my feet and leave me a frozen husk in an instant? Will I be alive for long on this?

Strangely, I will be the first NSET crewmate to make physical contact with a planet not of our solar system.

I’m getting closer to the planet, I can feel something happening, a tug leading me to the planet. Two-second gut reaction is that I’m caught in the planet’s gravity. Two-minute gut reaction is that I won’t really feel the gravity until I’ve got something resisting me. I’m in freefall, but without an atmosphere there’s nothing to perceive the pull of gravity.

So why am I feeling this pulling force?

Just under half of my vision is complete void. In my slow spin I can see the stars in half the field of view, and the rest is simply blackness. I don’t have enough light to tell if anything is rushing up on me. I can’t tell how close the ground is now of this pitch-black planet.

Then, impact as my body touches the surface. Not feather-light and gentle, but not so hard it hurts. And then, I sink, and the cold rushes into my suit, and the blackness consumes me and I feel nothing once again.

#short story #original writing #I was originally inspired by the episode of Voltron where the paladins lose their lions and are left drifting in space #I listened to a lot of dark ambient while writing this too #It felt good to write a short story and finish it #It's been a while #if you've made it this far please reblog!#Likes don't spread it around #writeblr #sci-fi #science fiction #the expanse

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detectivejigsawpines · 4 years

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Relatively Relativity-part 1 (if you go down in the woods today, you’re sure of a big surprise)

The Pineses go on a hiking trip one nice sunny day, and return...not quite how they were when they left.

Major thanks to DarylStorey for helping me brainstorm this story.

“WHOO-HOO!!!! YEAH!!!! LET’S DO THIS!!!!”

Mabel burst out the door of the Stanley Mobile like a multicolored comet, surging towards the trailhead at a speed that nearly broke the sound barrier and barely even being slowed down by the massive purple backpack she was wearing. It wasn’t until she’d reached it that she turned around and realized that her family was still taking their time catching up to her.

“C’mon guys, what’s the hold-up?” she pleaded, sprinting back across the parking lot to them. “We’ve got an adventure to go on, and lots of cool plants and animals to see! Let’s put some hustle in it, people!”

Stan stepped out of the car at a far more leisurely pace, looking less than thrilled about having to be awake at this ungodly hour of the morning (Ford had insisted that they go as early in the day as possible to avoid the heat and mosquitos). He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and muttered, “Hold up, sweetie, not all of us’ve got young legs like you.”

“Ugggghhhh, you guys are so slow!” Mabel ran over to Dipper and tugged his hand impatiently. “C’mon, let’s see if we can get to the main trail before the old fossils!”

“Who’re you calling an old fossil?!” Ford demanded in mock indignation. “I can easily get there before you, missy!”

“Five bucks says you can’t!”

“You’re on!”

Seconds later they were both racing into the woods, leaving Stan and Dipper in the dust.

Stan glanced down at Dipper. “Surprised you’re not getting in on that.”

The boy grimaced. “You kidding? There’s no way I’d beat either of them. Mabel drank a whole pitcher of Mabel Juice this morning, and Ford’s...Ford.”

One bushy gray eyebrow raised, but Stan couldn’t help feeling a little pleased that the kid seemed a lot less insecure about his physical deficiencies than he would have been the summer before, when he was obsessed with trying to become more “manly.”

Now, though, he seemed content for the time being to trot along at Stan’s side, looking around for any unusual creatures that might be in the underbrush and absentmindedly clicking a pen with his thumb, while his other hand already had his pine tree journal open in case he saw something worth sketching.

Up ahead, they could hear excited crashing and whooping; seconds later there was a loud humming noise, followed by Mabel yelling, “Hey, no fair!”

“Completely fair!” Ford retorted, “You brought out your grappling hook, so I get to use the anti-gravity application on my watch!”

Stan and Dipper rolled their eyes in unison.

“Yeah, I’d definitely lose,” Dipper sighed in resignation as they rounded the bend in time to see Mabel trying ineffectively to slow Ford down by leaping from the branch she’d grappled onto and grabbing him around the legs.

********

Eventually all members of the Pines family were back on solid ground, and they began their hike. Stan and Ford told the kids stories about some of their adventures on the high seas, and in return the kids talked about what junior high school was like (mostly pretty terrible, since junior high is one of the greatest sources of evil since the Spanish Inquisition). Both old men sympathized with their struggles, remembering all too well how difficult being a teenager was, even when you’d just barely joined the world of angst and acne.

“Of course, it has its good points too,” Ford pointed out. “You don’t have to be in old creaky bodies like we are.”

Dipper harrumphed. “I’d take dealing with that over puberty any day of the week.”

“Yeah, at least then I wouldn’t have to be worried about starting my period,” Mabel said with a grimace.

All three men glanced at her uneasily out of the corner of their eyes.

“...Have you…?” Ford started to ask.

“No, but Mom says I’m old enough that I’ll probably get my first one soon.” Despite how uncomfortable a topic this was for her, she had to smother a giggle at how her grunkles and her brother all looked like they were seconds away from running away screaming.

At last Dipper cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“Besides, if I was a grownup then I could go into stores and buy pretty much whatever I wanted.”

“Yeah!” Mabel brightened. “Like age-inappropriate romance novels, or a bunch of puppies from PetsMart!”

Stan snorted, and affectionately rubbed his knuckles against her head. “Just so long as you never grow up too much.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” she promised, before gasping in delight and going over to the side of the trail to admire a particularly vibrant flower.

“Hey, Grunkle Ford, do you know what kinda flower this is?”

Ford came over to see it, and his eyes widened behind their glasses. “...Oh my. I’ve never seen one of those before.”

Stan and Dipper peered curiously over their shoulders at it.

It was, indeed, an exceptionally beautiful flower; it looked kind of like a wild rose, except that instead of being pink, its petals were a deep royal blue, and glowing faintly in the pale morning light.

Almost in unison Ford and Dipper grabbed their journals and started sketching it.

“It looks similar to some of the plants I saw in this one dimension,” Ford murmured, “except those were sentient, and generally tried to eat anyone who got too close.”

Dipper looked uneasy, and after a second he tugged on Mabel’s shoulder, pulling her back from getting too close to it. She was a little annoyed, but didn’t shove him off like she would have the year before.

“Do you think it’s magic?” Dipper asked. “I’m pretty sure the fact that it’s glowing means it’s gotta have some kinda magic, right?”

“In this forest, I wouldn’t doubt that it does,” Ford agreed. He sighed in annoyance. “I knew I should have packed my thaumometer for the hike! Why didn’t you remind me to pack my thaumometer, Stanley?”

“Probably cuz I was thinkin’ about more important things like how much I wanted ta go back ta sleep,” Stan retorted.

“Uh, is it just me, or is the glow getting brighter?”

It wasn’t just Dipper.

What’s more, as the four of them watched, the petals began to move, waving back and forth even though there wasn’t that strong of a breeze. As if that wasn’t weird enough, the petals started waving a little faster, and as they did, the glow that was on them started to...rise from them.

No, really; before their eyes it lifted into the air as a sort of pollen, doing a little dance in the beam of sunlight above the flower and growing into an ever-increasing spiral, showing a lot more pollen than you’d think would be possible from one single flower.

Dipper blinked, and swallowed nervously.

“Um, guys? In situations like this, this is when really bad things start to happen. Maybe we should-”

The pollen cloud hit him right in the face.

********

Apparently it had smacked into everyone else too; as Dipper closed his eyes and coughed and sneezed, he could hear his family making similar noises.

It was everywhere, getting in his hair, on his clothes, even inside his clothes and making him even itchier than usual, oh come on!

Dipper stumbled back, scratching frantically and trying to spit out some of the stuff that had somehow landed in his mouth, gross!

“Ugh, what the heck?! That stuff tastes like mothballs!”

Dipper froze.

...That voice didn’t belong to anyone in his family. It was a voice belonging to a young boy, probably someone about his age.

“...Who said that?”

Dipper clamped his hands over his mouth with a frightened squeak when he heard his own voice; it sounded...wrong, somehow. Like it had actually gotten deeper, like in that story he’d told about drinking a potion that made him sound like a TV announcer!

Hesitantly he opened his eyes, blinking away any traces of the pollen that were left, looking for his family-

And came face to face with a startled-looking old woman in a baggy purple sweater.

“Aaaah! Who are you! What did you do to us?!” he demanded, lurching back and putting up his fists. Then he quickly slipped off his backpack and whirled to pull out the knife he kept in there-he didn’t know what use it’d be against a witch or whatever she was but it was better than nothing-but then two things happened at once.

One: a sudden sharp pain locked up in the small of his back, nearly pitching him to the ground with how bad it was.

Two: he got a good look at his hands.

Something was wrong with Dipper’s hands.

They were twice the size he remembered them being when he first woke up this morning, and all weird and wrinkly-looking, with a few blue veins standing out against the knuckles.

Dipper let his backpack fall to the ground, stammering in horror.

“What-what the-”

“...Dipper?” the old woman’s voice quavered behind him. “Is that you? It’s me, Mabel.”

Dipper slowly turned back around, managing to straighten up with an effort, and looked at the woman again, more closely this time.

She looked just as frightened and confused as he was right now, with a lock of her long gray hair clenched between her fingers on the left side of her head and being wrung in her hands. Her sweater looked a lot like the one Mabel had been wearing, except older and less sparkly.

Dipper looked into her eyes.

“...Mabel?”

“Yeah, it’s me, bro-bro.” She tried to smile.

Just then something moved in the corner of Dipper’s line of vision, and he turned his head to see two boys standing there and rubbing pollen out of their eyes.

One of them was wearing a tiny tan trench coat and a red woolly beanie, and when he opened his mouth to cough out some more pollen Dipper could see he had a tooth missing. The other one wore a red turtleneck with a blue coat over it, and had a pair of large spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He staggered a little, and pushed them up with two fingers. Allowing Dipper to see that his hand had an extra finger on the end.

The boy saw Dipper staring at him in dawning horror, and his eyes widened.

“Dipper? Are you-are you and Mabel old?!”

“Grunkle Stan?! Grunkle Ford?!” Mabel crouched down and stared at the boys slack-jawed. “Are you guys young?!”

********

There was a moment of silence.

Then a flock of birds was startled by four voices all screaming in unison.

#gravity falls #grunkle stan #grunkle ford #dipper pines #mabel pines #cousin to relativity falls #age swap #next summer in gravity falls #humor #hiking trip gone horribly wrong

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elopez7228 · 4 years

Text

Scenic Route 14/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

After giving BB8 more to drink in the parking lot, Rey met up with Ben to watch 4th of July fireworks with the band. There would definitely be a show in central town and Rey would rather sit with the party crowd than sip her beer all alone.

She headed towards the ski lifts, very much hoping that they could transport her and BB to the very top of the mountain.

Alas, they had a strict policy against dogs. She found herself relegated to the valley below. She was wearing her trainers and her backpack, the latter of which contained her hotel purchases: a water, a muffin, a banana, and a packet of beef jerky.

She looked around to make sure the blonde woman was nowhere to be found. Did she stop following or was she just getting better at being discrete?

She scratched BB’s head pensively, even as worry coiled in her stomach. And so she was fretting again—when she could be taking advantage of the day in front of her. After a quick google search, she decided to take a trek in the surrounding area. A walk could really do her some good.

The vast landscape looked nothing like the English countryside. Instead, mountain plants grew underfoot: traup flowers, pines, sage, heather, lichens and thorn bush. The air was buzzing with the sound of insects. Rey unclipped BB’s leash so the dog make her ascent freely.

Suddenly, she felt alone in her chagrin. It would have been nice to share the sights and sounds, the serenity of the moment with someone else. Where was Finn? What was he up to in that instant—after having ruined all her plans? She felt like she had spent an entire lifetime in London. One that blurred into the distance with her departure. She still thought about him every day, but doing so had become far less painful, less consuming. Her memories were instead soft and hazy, like she was looking back at him through a pair of rose-colored glasses. They had separated only two weeks ago and yet she found she did not miss him as much as she thought she would.

She felt utterly liberated, free to make her own choices and follow her own desires. She had been in a relationship for so long that she had forgotten what it felt like not to be beholden to someone else. To make decisions alone and selfishly, without having to compromise for anyone. And sure, having someone in her life had been reassuring—but it had also been stifling.

And besides, he had never really liked hiking, Finn was the kind of man who stayed within city limits. Their time together had consisted of television marathons, sushi takeaway, cinema outings, and concerts. Sometimes Finn would play football with his closest friends, especially Poe. Bloody hell—she should have seen Poe coming!

No, it was obvious now that Finn would never truly appreciate the value of a moment of peace and solitude in the mountains. She would rather share this moment with...

Ben.

Wait. That was ridiculous. They had only really known each other for a couple of days. Never mind that she had made a terrible first impression on him, and that was putting it nicely.

Why then did her mind imagine him there, alone at the top of the world with her? He always emanated a sort of melancholy. Why was his gaze so sad? Rey wondered how much of his cocky rockstar was just for show. Was music really his bread and butter? There was no way he could afford to drive a massive pickup like that after only three self-released CDs. So where did the money come from? Where did he—and his knights—really work?

It was useless to occupy her thoughts needlessly; she would have the chance to ask them about it tonight. If she played her cards right and asked discretely, that is.

Sitting on the river bank, she ate her last-minute picnic, turning to throw a few pieces of beef jerky in BB8’s direction.

BB8?

Where was that girl?

Rey got to her feet and places her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice.

“Bee Bee!”

Well, this was probably why they had put up that “dogs must remain on leash at all times” sign at the trail entrance. They were probably trying to save the squirrels from puppy wrath.

Chipmunks, whispered the voice in her head. Rey seethed mentally. Now was not the time to squabble over vocabulary!

The rustling of leaves a little further up the path got her attention. She recalled that BB8 liked to dig hiding places for her sticks. As Rey approached, a little striped rodent launched belly-down through the forest, zigzagging around rocks and roots as it flew into a thorny bush and found purchase on low hanging branches. BB8, previously disinterested, jumped up to chase the animal with a surprising amount of vigor. Before Rey could grab her, the dog disappeared into the bushes, like a greyhound chasing a lure.

Rey sighed a few choice words. Deciding not to waste time, she shoved the leash into her pocket and went in search of her dog.

And that’s how she found herself in a bloody sumac bush that left prickling imprints on her calves that caused agony with every step. The thorn bushes here were just as unforgiving as the ones in

England.

“I swear when I get ahold of that dog again I’m going to have an absolute fit,” she grumbled in between panting breaths. Her legs were on fire but the sound of BB8’s groaning wasn’t far off. She let it guide her toward a pile of withering branches. She found the little dog perched on her hind paws, barking at the trunk of a cedar tree that she had been leaning on.

Rey slipped the leash back onto BB’s collar and tugged a little harder than she probably should have. The dog yelped in protest. Feeling guilty, Rey leaned down to pet her.

“C’mon girl, let’s go.”

She retraced her steps, finally finding the place where she had stashed her knapsack. A large silhouette appeared to be rifling through her things. It looked rather large, and it turned to grunt at her like a bull.

Rey cried out. There, in the middle of the forest, stood a decent-sized bear. It was currently in the process of emptying out her bag, having eaten half of the banana and chewed up the muffin wrapper to sugary bits.

BB8 rose up and growled, baring her teeth. “Gently, steady now...” Rey whispered, backing away slowly.

She didn’t know anything about bears. Couldn’t it kill her and climb back up into the trees? But she had to get her knapsack back—it contained her phone and her travel papers—if the bear hadn’t already crushed them under its massive paws. She contemplated confronting the bear with the business end of a...stick? No, ridiculous. She could just imagine her equally ridiculous tombstone: Here lies Rey Jakku, who thought she could defeat a bear with her bare hands. Discouraged, Rey opted for patience. Surely the bear would eventually leave.

She took care to leave as much distance between herself and the beast, not realizing when BB8’s leash suddenly slipped from her grasp.

“BB8, NO!”

But the dog ignored her, descending on the bear at full height, teeth bared and frothing at the mouth.

The bear never saw her coming, too engrossed in sniffing out the food from the open bag. It turned around brusquely, getting up on its hind legs and letting out a roar that left Rey’s whole body shaking. BB8 retreated a few paces, though still maintaining a defensive stance. She certainly made up for her minuscule size with tenacity.

A nightmare scenario flashed inside Rey’s mind: The bear would kill her dog, and then finish her off.

Here lies Rey Jakku, mauled by a bear on her honeymoon. She was a rebel until the very end.

Or even if she survived, how was she to tell the Skywalkers—wherever they were—that she had left their little doggie at the mercy of a raging bear.

Here lies Rey Jakku, strangled to death by a woman who loved her orange dog above all else.

Without second thought, she began waving her arms around to distract the bear.

“Hey! Baloo! Over here!”

With the help of a stick she found on the ground, Rey banged on the trunk of nearby tree, still shouting at the top of her lungs. The bear turned towards her, snarling and roaring anew.

Rey felt her knees wobble.

Here lies Rey Jakku, devoured by a bear at age 26. Her life was shitty.

The bear then proceeded to swipe a massive paw at BB8, which she easily dodged. She snapped her jaws in response. Finally, the beast got onto all four paws once more and charged suddenly.

She was going to die. Without having told Finn that she forgave him. Without having told her mother she loved her. Without having the chance to slide her fingers through Ben Solo’s mesmerizing hair.

It was insanely stupid.

All of a sudden, a sharp click pierced the air, echoing off the mountain. A projectile whistled past, lodging in the trunk of the tree next to her. She didn’t immediately realize the situation. The bear stopped, jerking its head.

Rey stood paralyzed, comprehending the scene at a glance. There had been a shot fired in the woods. The animal’s ear was bleeding. The moment took forever to pass. Someone was shooting at her.

It was just too much for her, and she fell to her knees with her hands on her head. The bear, the shooter, the sound of fire, it was all too much to process.

The bear, to its credit, turned around to roar again. BB8 kept barking even as she began to run out of breath, as though she could chase the beast away with sheer perseverance. Another bullet whistled past. Rey curled up on the ground, a strangled noise escaping her. The bear growled once more and then, with agility belying its hulking frame, skittered off into the woods.

Rey hesitated, still lying in fetal position against the soil. Her entire body trembled. She looked up when she felt the warmth of BB’s tongue against her hands and face. It was then that she managed to catch her breath and clamber to her feet.

She gazed at the horizon, searching for traces of the bear, or the shooter. Everything was calm again. The birds that had scattered with the opening shot had once again returned to their branches.

Losing her adrenaline and her ability to stand, Rey crouched on the ground once more, eventually falling onto her back. Tears of relief flowed down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her trembling hand. She reached out and hugged BB8 tightly against her chest.

“Bravo, girl. Good dog—what a good dog, you’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

A voice inside her head whispered that it was ride or die with this dog. And the invisible shooter? Rey owed whoever that was a massive debt of gratitude.

Once the pounding of her heart had died down, she shouldered the remnants of her bag and took out her Swiss knife. She used the blade to carefully carve out the bullet lodged in the trunk of the fir. The projectile was buried so deeply in the wood that she had trouble dislodging it. When she finally managed to retrieve the gnarled piece of metal, she was overtaken by a violent burst of emotion. Someone had literally saved her life. She would have here, thousands of miles from home— and yet she was alive and unscathed. She held the bullet in her fist before slipping it into her pocket. And then she began the lone journey back up the trail.

Fifty feet away, Syed stood on a rocky outcrop overlooking the valley. She put away her gun, still warm to touch. His orders echoed through her mind.

Follow the girl wherever she goes. If anything happens to her, I’ll hold you personally responsible.

She hadn’t thought it would be so complicated. This Rey had a supernatural ability it seemed, she was a magnet for all kinds of trouble. Keeping her in one piece was not going to be easy.

It was almost three in the afternoon by the time Rey made it back to the city, exhausted and covered in scrapes and scratches. Fortunately, her car was still there and the blonde woman was nowhere to be found. She still checked to make sure that no one had slashed her tires or broken a window or stolen so much as the air freshener. No, it seemed the Falcon was a dingy yet invincible as ever. And that was the first good news she’d had all day.

It was still too early to join Kylo and the knights in the marketplace so she decided to take a nap. She was still crashing from the adrenaline high and her limbs could barely move. Not to mention that she’d barely slept last night, tormented by the looming presence of the blonde and the abrupt absence of Leia Skywalker. She had the feeling tonight was going to be an equally long night. Time to recuperate while she could.

She moved the car under the shade of a few trees at the very edge of the hotel parking, rolled down the windows, and let BB8 inside before blowing up her air mattress in the trunk. Just like last night. It was warm outside on that sunny summer afternoon, but a fresh breeze brushed against her skin through the open windows. And so she let go. But she wasn’t able to find sleep just yet. Something tugged at her mind, deep in her subconscious.

She had almost died today. Death had flashed before her eyes, and she’d thought it was over. And in those final, terrifying moments, she had thought about three people.

Finn.

Her mother.

And Ben Solo.

#reylo #fanfiction #Modern AU #scenic Route

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runswith · 4 years

Text

Travel diary: Pamplona. Entry 8 – March 26, 2002

With Curtis having done el Camino de Santiago so many times, he’s fairly knowledgeable about it -- extremely, even excessively knowledgeable compared to someone like me.

As we stood in Sunday morning sunshine, Curtis talking about el Camino, two people hiking the trail toiled up the grade in our direction. Across the small road, off in the other direction, the land spilled down and away. Nesting birds appeared from hillside bushes, making short, swift flights to nearby points, producing sharp bursts of song. Though the sun shone strong and warm, a cool breeze blew -- Curtis had encouraged me to leave my jacket in the car, I found myself glad I had it on and pulled it tightly around me as I peered off across the countryside.

Back in the car, we drove further west of Pamplona. Several miles along, Javier hung a left and sped down another two-lane, flanked by fields and the occasional spread of vineyard, until we approached a turnoff for a small church that sat amid acres of fields, la iglesia de Santa Maria de Eunate. Javier turned in, guiding the car to a small parking area, pulling in by a pair of porta-potties, them looking a bit out of context there in the middle of nowhere but logical considering the number of visitors the place received.

The church: a lovely stone structure, small in diameter with a high domed roof that gives it a sense of great space. Built in the second half of the twelfth century, appearing at once austere and complex in structure. The small windows had no glass, no surprise given where and when the church was constructed -- instead, they’re covered with slabs of marble cut thinly enough that light passes through. The church is surrounded by a portico, nearby sits another building constructed of stone, a refuge for hikers making the pilgrimage, where they can find a shower, get some sleep.

On our arrival, the only other people about were three young women who seemed to carefully avoid us. As we walked back to the car, other vehicles pulled in, discharging people, changing the atmosphere drastically with noise and motion. I was glad we were leaving.

Javier drove back out to the original two-lane, heading further west to the town of Puente la Reina, a pueblo with at least three churches -- all Catholic, natch. I was taken into two, both several centuries old -- one austere, the other extravagantly elaborate -- both on a long street that ran from the east end of town to the river at the town’s west side and the bridge that gives the town its name. Built in, I think, the 15th century. Old, beautiful, nice to walk across, providing nice views of the old town on one side, green hills and flowering almond trees on the other.

The morning sunlight had strengthened, the temperature edged upward to jacket-divesting levels as the day tilted toward noon. We walked back toward the car along a different street -- wider, relatively busy -- passing the third church as we left the river behind, I mulled over how it felt to be among so much Catholicism, past and present, from the perspective of having grown up in it and ditched it the day I turned 18.

From there we traveled west to a stretch of el Camino that ran along the course of an old Roman road, cobbled and crossing an original Roman bridge, out in the middle of countryside, in a ravine off the two-lane where trees were showing green and birds called. As I moved ahead of Curtis and Javier, two hikers passed -- young women, both sporting huge packs, one of which had two or three pieces of washed clothing spread across it to dry in the sun as they walked. Curtis began chatting with them, when I returned from enjoying the near-total quiet off across the bridge it turned out they were college-age American women -- one from Tennessee, one from Illinois -- doing the pilgrimage and experiencing the contrast between what they’d imagined when they dreamed about it and the rigorous, sometimes disheartening reality of traversing mountainous, rural terrain with a full pack. Curtis gave them encouragement, some tips on stops they’d be making in the coming days, and they headed off.

Next: the town of Estella, the day’s final stop. A medieval pueblo, with old, narrow streets, large plazas, and a pretty, shallow river that wends through the heart of the town. Javier parked the car, we made our way up a long series of stairs to yet another church perched in the, by then, early afternoon sunlight. We passed through to the cloister, a sizable area of flowers, grass, flowers and a tree or two, sheltered by walls, surrounded and bisected by walkways. Quiet, with lots of old stonework. I would have been happy to remain there a while, as lack of sleep was becoming an increasingly major factor in my day. Curtis had also been up late -- later than me, I think, having far more fun -- also looked to be at less than optimum. Javier was fine, and when I got too quiet he made a point of chatting me up, explaining things or asking about my experience in Spain. Between that and the fact that he had volunteered to do the driving for the day, he went far beyond what would be expected of someone who had never met me before. An extremely considerate person with a generous, gentlemanly nature.

A mass had begun while we were outside, we couldn’t pass back through the church and so took a different stairway down to the street -- old, narrow, with vistas of sky and neighborhoods. We found our way to the center of the town, crowds of chatting, well-dressed locals milling in and out of restaurants/tabernas. We made our way into one, found a space at the bar, got something to drink, then went somewhere else to eat, a place off another narrow, quiet street. A long meal, punctuated by stretches of silence between which Curtis and Javier conversed, Javier now and then addressing some conversation in my direction, which I did my best to engage with. Afterward, we found our way through more narrow streets toward an old medieval footbridge we’d spotted earlier. The street that led us there -- old and, of course, narrow -- only permitted resident traffic, and at the end of a block that fed out onto a larger busier street, passage was blocked by a thick, squat metal column, maybe two feet high, planted in the pavement directly in the middle of the street. A car approached from the outside road, stopping by a box at the roadside where the driver produced a card and swiped it through a slot. A pause, then the column slowly sank into the pavement so the car could pass, after which it reappeared, regaining full height. Freudian traffic control.

We made our way across the bridge, trees and large sprawling expanses of bushes on either side of the river a bright, vibrant green in the early spring sun. Willow trees rose three or four stories into the air, trailing long branches thick with new leaves. Javier and Curtis had yet another ancient church or two in their sights, we made our way toward them though not into them (for which I gave silent thanks), settling down instead on some stone structures by the river to flop and get some sun. It was late afternoon by then, the town had the feel of a place slowly dealing with the coming reality of returning to the workweek. Couples were out, two groups of people came together not far from us, talking, then headed off in the opposite direction from which we’d come and disappeared. We eventually pulled ourselves together and returned to the car, walking along a stretch of el Camino which included an old, well-kept building that functioned as the town’s sanctuary for pilgrims.

As we neared the car, the snug street opened out into a small plaza that fronted a park and two old buildings, one of which apparently housed the local equivalent of a circuit court. Paint had been hurled against the door and the facade of the building, leaving splashes of red, yellow and green, the colors of the crest of Euskadi, the Basque Country. As we stepped out into the plaza, I glanced into the windows of the other building we passed, into a room filled with old, old furniture, including what appeared to be an ancient canopy bed, draped with mosquito netting.

At that moment, we became aware of a car coming in reverse along the narrow street that faced us, coming fast, the gearbox whining loudly, the rear end jerking back and forth as it approached, tires squealing. It skidded into the plaza where the driver hit the brakes, spraying gravel before changing gears then gunning his way through a loud, aggressive three-point turn, almost hitting me at one point, the afternoon air suddenly thick with the odor of testosterone. The driver: a truculent, macho 20-something whose behavior had Curtis hooting and mocking him in English. My last image of Estella.

An hour and a half later I found myself gazing out a window of an Iberia airliner. My final view of Pamplona, from a plane angling up away from the ground: a line of wind turbines ranged along a ridge of hills to the north of the airport, extending off toward the Pyrenees and the border with France, white rotor blades turning lazily in afternoon sunlight.

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grandadsoutdoor-blog · 6 years

Text

How to Choose your Campsite in the Driftless Region

(Above photo features a view from Kickapoo Valley Reserve, taken by Spencer Black for Madison.com)

The Driftless region is home to a variety of beautiful landscapes that are quite unique for the Midwest. This area spans planes, rolling hills, bluffs, and sites available river, lake or marsh-side. This region is also quite rural, offering a variety of camping opportunities for all types of camping and experience levels. We have selected some of our favorite options and described them based on three factors: Family Friendliness, Recommended Experience level, and whether this location is best for car camping, camper trailers, hiking, or even sites only available by kayaking!

GOOSE ISLAND CAMPGROUND

Stoddard, WI

Goose Island Campground is located just south of La Crosse on the banks of the Mississippi River. There are sights located on the water as well as further in land, and woven within the slews and streams that branch off of the Mississippi. These streams provide a canoe trail, and rental canoes and kayaks available on site. This site also offers public boat launches that access the main channel. This is a popular spot for fishing off of piers and off of the shore. Commonly caught fish in this area include pan fish such as blue gills and perch, as well as bass, walleye and northern.

This site features public restrooms and showers, as well as a bait shop, laundry mat, and convenience store that has WIFI available. There is a large beach area, and events are hosted frequently throughout peak season to provide family friendly entertainment. In the chance there is less than desirable weather, there is a game room for kids as well as a playground. There are a wide variety of site types available, although they are all located in close proximity along a paved driveway.

FAMILY FRIENDLYNESS: 5/5

With the abundance of activities available, this site is a perfect get away for families of all sizes and ages. Key features include the playground, game room, fishing and nature trails.

RECOMMENDED EXPERIENCE LEVEL: Any!

This site offers an abundance of amenities that provide an easy transition for those new to camping. With public restrooms and showers, a convenience store, and carefully maintained sites, this is not a technically challenging location. Although it is worth noting that experienced campers may not be turned on by the close proximity of sites, we consider this an excellent starting point for families or groups that want to give camping a try!

CAMPING TYPE:

All sites are accessible by car, although there are recreational hiking and canoe trails available. There are full hook-ups available for camper trailers, as well as site reserved for tent camping.

PERROT STATE PARK

Trempealeau, WI

Perrot State Park is nestled on the gorgeous Trempealeau Bay surrounded by towering bluffs. This park features canoe launches, RV accessibility, and group camp sites. We recommend this site for its abundance of natural features and activities to accompany them. There are multiple trails available, including one that takes you to the top of Trempealeau Mountain- the tallest bluff on site that offers an amazing sunset view. Not only is this site naturally appealing, but its proximity to down town Trempealeau offers plenty of appeal. This town has tons of charm, and some great restaurants and shops, all with an impeccable view of the bay.

There are canoe and kayak rentals available and a recommended trail map that will take you throughout the bay. Warning: a portion of this trail will guide you up-stream, which can be physically challenging at times.

FAMILY FRIENDLYNESS: 4/5

Although this site offers TONS of activities to keep your family busy, there are not as many options for those with smaller children who may not be able to take on strenuous hikes or lengthy canoe trips. These sites are more rural and public restrooms are not easily accessible from all sites.

RECCOMENDED EXPERIENCE LEVEL:

This campground is not AS beginner friendly as Goose Island, as there are not quite as many amenities. That being said, we still believe that a beginning camper would be able to manage this site. There are RV accessible lots and tent camping lots all accessible by car. The park office offers maps and very helpful rangers that will offer their recommendations for trail hikes and canoe trips. Campers can bring their own canoes or rent.

CAMPING TYPE:

Again, this site is available to car campers as well as camper trailers. There are site with full utilities and water hook ups available as well as public showers and restrooms. There are no ‘hike up’ sites or ‘canoe/kayak’ exclusive sites.

PRAIRIE ISLAND PARK

WINONA, MN

This campground is again located on the banks of the Mississippi, but this time on the other side in Minnesota. This campground features a camp store, equipment rentals, hiking and mountain biking trails, a dog park and plenty of summertime events such as their new to 2018 Campfire Concert series! There are also tons of activities in the nearby city of Winona, which includes guided rock climbing lessons on the bluffs.

The key feature of this campground is the miles and miles of canoe and kayaking trails that are accessible from the landing at the park. From these off-shoots of the main channel, you can tour Winona or even rent fishing equipment and try to catch your next meal. There are group camping sites, RV sites, and pet friendly sites available.

FAMILY FRIENDLYNESS: 4/5

Similar to Perrot State Park across the river, this campground certainly offers plenty to do and keep a family busy. However, these activities are more limited with younger children. This park is dog friendly which may be a key selling point for some families. There are public restrooms and showers available although the water is currently non-potable.

RECOMMENDED EXPERIENCE LEVEL:

This site is quite comparable to Perrot State Park. Although it offers many amenities to those who are less experienced, it does offer slightly more rural sites and non-potable water, which may not appeal to those who prefer camping ‘resorts’. This campground is mostly very ‘newbie’ friendly and with its close proximity to Winona, there are very few creature comforts that wouldn’t be available to you.

CAMPING TYPE: With paved driveways and site with RV hook ups available, this campground caters particularly to car campers and camper trailers. There are hiking and canoe trails available but no sites that are available exclusively by hiking or waterways.

KICKAPOO VALLEY RESERVE

La Farge, WI

Located in rural South Western Wisconsin, the Kickapoo river winds through these hills, valleys, and even bluffs to create a land scape like no other. This is one of our favorite ‘off the grid’ sites, with no camping reservations, and a couple dozen campsites scattered throughout 8,200 acres. When you arrive on site, the rangers will inform you of which sites they believe are available, but it is possible that you may arrive and find that someone has set up camp, no pun intended. Each site features unique natural attributes, some are river side and accessible by canoe and some are only available by hiking trails, although there are drive up sites available as well. Basic photos are available online of each site that will display the surround area, some feature natural rock walls, forests, beaches and even a few small waterfalls. Given a map, its up to you to navigate to them via water, trail or road. Canoe and kayak rentals are available.

FAMILY FRIENDLYNESS: 2/5

Although the drive up sites could offer great group camping and fun for younger children, this campground does not feature all the bells and whistles of some of the options listed above. There are no public restrooms besides the ones in the park office, as well as a few port-o-potties available at some drive up sites. The benefits of this site are all natural- there are no man-made play grounds, pools or game rooms. We would recommend only taking older children along on this trip, as some of the hiking can be miles long, especially in between camp sites.

RECOMMENDED EXPERIENCE LEVEL:

We do not recommend this camp for those who are uncomfortable with really ‘roughing it’. Unless utilizing a drive up site, you are left to your own devices in order to navigate around the reserve, cook, bathe, and answer Nature’s Call, if you catch our drift. If you are back packing or canoeing, keep in mind you must either pack or gather fire wood, and prepare any cooked meals over an open fire or portable stove. If this level of self sufficiency makes you slightly uncomfortable, we recommend first trying a less limiting camp site and trying to pack, prepare and camp as if you are back packing. This will allow you to notice what things may have slipped your mind to pack or prepare, but also provide access to anything you may have forgotten to consider.

CAMPING TYPE:

This campground features more options for back packing and water way camping. You can bring your own canoes and kayaks and launch at the park office, or rent some there. Some sites are ONLY able to be reached by water, and some are only reachable by hiking trails. There are a few drive-up sites for car campers, and two that are large enough for group camping. As mentioned earlier, there is very limited access to running water, and a few port-o-potties that are marked on the park map.

#MKT400uwl

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hikinghappy · 6 years

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GNP Trip Report - Lake McDonald Lodge & Canoeing (Day 1 Part 2)

After about an hour of relaxing at Apgar and taking in the view across Lake McDonald (see Part 1 here), we decided a change of scenery would be fun and left for Lake McDonald Lodge. On the way we saw Sprague Creek campsite, where we wanted to stay the following night, so we drove in to check it out and figure out the process to get a first-come-first-served campsite. We honestly didn’t quite understand the process from looking at the information in the campground, but driving around there were a number of campsites with a 27 on them, meaning they’d be checking out the next day. We took that as a good sign but still decided the best plan was to arrive early. Brian checked out the recreation.gov website later, which records the time that campsites are filled each day in Glacier, and it said Sprague Creek filled by 9 AM on Friday and didn’t fill up at all on Thursday. We were so excited to camp, and were hoping for the best in getting a campsite!

We then parked at Lake McDonald lodge and made some sandwiches for lunch, then walked up to the main lobby. The hotel was so cool! It was much smaller than I thought it’d be, but it had a great western feel. The lobby extended upwards three floors in the middle and had animal heads all over the walls. We wandered outside and got another view of Lake McDonald – it was very different from the view at Apgar Village as the view of the mountains was blocked. We personally thought that the view was grander over at Apgar, with the mountains towering beyond the lake.

We ate our sandwiches on a bench down by the lakeside, and enjoyed some good people watching along with the scenery. Then we rock-hopped across a stream and sat on the rocky beach for a while, even putting our feet in the water. The first dip was SO cold and sent shivers through my body, but I got used to it. I think the water was definitely warmer by Apgar. Across the water were acres of white trees with no leaves, which were the remains of a forest fire from years ago. The Sprague fire was actually burning across the road and had been going for about a week. We could smell the fire a little and could hear helicopters flying around, but the reports at the time were that the fire was contained. About a week later it spread significantly, and Lake McDonald lodge closed early for the season and the historic Sperry Chalet mostly burned down. It was definitely a moving reminder of how powerful natural forces could be, especially in a place as wild as Glacier.

We headed back to Apgar and checked into the Village Inn. It was 3 PM but free cups of coffee at the front desk called our names – definitely gave us the second wind we needed! After relaxing for awhile and drinking our coffee, we rented a canoe to explore Lake McDonald! It was HOT out on the middle of the lake, a striking comparison to the freezing water splashing up, and eventually a breeze picked up. Paddling over near the north shore, we heard a bird calling so we looked around for it, excited for our any wildlife encounters. Soon enough, a big bird swooped out of the woods and over the lake. It landed further up the shore, and while we were looking for it guess what we spotted – a bald eagle!! It was perched on a branch near its nest, and we heard high pitched chirps that we thought might be babies!! We sat and watched the eagle for awhile, totally in awe.

Time totally got away from us and suddenly our rental hour was almost up! We paddled very hard back to the shore, and switched off being in the muscle in the front versus the driver in the back. Our skills at staying in a straight line were only so-so, but we made it back and had a ton of fun!

Back at the hotel, we had a beer out on our porch and just continued to enjoy the scenery. We ended up chatting quite a bit with our neighbors, who were really nice and had been to a lot of the national parks so they had some good stories to tell about Yosemite and Alaska. Brian and I each enjoyed local beers – Big Sky IPA and Flathead Lake Brewing Company Centennial IPA, both of which were great. We made a quick dinner in our stove, away from the hotel room, of angel hair pasta with cherry tomatoes and pesto. It was delicious!

We sat for a while longer on our porch and watched the sunset. We also noticed that the smoke from the Sprague fire up on the hill sank down over the lake as it got darker. We came out after showering to look at the stars before turning in and they were absolutely insane. As people who live in a busy metropolitan area, the number of stars in the sky blew us away. We saw a couple shooting stars and I’m pretty sure the Milky Way. What a great way to end our first day in Glacier National Park! We couldn’t wait to get up and get going on our next adventure.

Thanks for reading! Day 2 (hiking Avalanche Lake and Trail of the Cedars) will be coming soon.

#Glacier National Park #Find your park #explore #travel #lake mcdonald #trip report #photographers on tumblr #original #wanderlust #hiking #canoeing #glacier #national parks #montana #nps #outdoors

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secoyahmedicine · 5 years

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This is the Naked Tree. Its bark has been burned off, though it is healing. There are 2 branches way up high that did not burn. They still have green -- this tree, incredibly, survived the fire.

When I went to the redwoods, I had this overwhelming urge to go to Sequoia National Park by myself. I’d been there a few years ago with family, but it wasn’t my trip. This would be for me. I made the necessary arrangements, and started packing Friday evening for my Saturday morning drive on 9/14/19. I had a feeling I should leave my jewelry behind.

What?

No, jewelry isn’t that important to me. Except, the jewelry I wear these days reminds me of healing accomplishments I’ve had recently. I wear it like armor, and I wear it to remind me of the strength I’ve accumulated since starting on this healing path over 2 years ago. Thinking of going hiking, a single woman, in a National Park, alone, on a healing quest, without my armor felt vulnerable. It felt like going naked.

What the heck. Let’s do this.

I arrived in Sequoia National Park on Saturday afternoon. I stopped at the Museum, and did a little shopping. I was sure the General Sherman tree, the largest tree in the world by mass, was nearby, and went exploring. Needless to say, I remembered incorrectly. The General Sherman tree was miles ahead still. Wrong turn after wrong turn led me on the Big Trees Trail. Because we have original names in Sequoia National Park. There was a meadow in the middle, and several sequoias surrounded its perimeter. There was a boardwalk with information signs. I’d already done this walk, I remembered the signs, and I didn’t stop at any of them. Until the Sun Worshipper sign. I could feel a magnet pull me in for a mysterious reason. I looked out at the meadow. It was beautiful, but not worth stopping for. I felt a spiritual tap tap tap on my back, and turned around.

There was the Naked Tree.

From the front, it looked like a tree that had survived a lot. There was a burned out hole in its trunk at the base, creating a window into the forest beyond. Had I stopped anywhere else, its beauty would have been obscured. Plain Jane as it gets, no branches to speak of, the pale bark that had grown in to cover the completely exposed trunk still remaining from the fire caught my breath in my throat. This tree had called to me when I was hundreds of miles away in the only redwood grove in Orange County. This tree had told me to come see it “naked,” without my jewelry, and I’d listened. We arrived as equals, and I found my sister.

Just how incredibly similar we were was about to be revealed. Everyone who has ever been afraid wears masks, puts on a brave face, and presents their best self to the world they find themselves in. As I walked around the tree’s expansive and enormous base, I was in for a shock. When I was completely behind the tree, I was alarmed to discover the entire back of the tree had been burned away, the trunk hollowed out. It, too, was presenting its best self to the public. When you truly got to know it, you could see the traumatic history written on its back in black ash.

A couple months prior, I’d earned the nickname, Ash, from a dream I’d had about following a phoenix in a forest. This phoenix was flying above me, and I ran along on the ground under a canopy of trees. (I later googled images of various trees, until I narrowed them down to Ash trees, based on the stereotypical leaf shape.) The phoenix started to swoop below the canopy, and came to perch on one of the tree’s branches. I ran to catch up. While running, the phoenix turned to the trunk of this tree, and scratched into then blew fire on what it had written. When I arrived, I saw 3 letters underlined: ASH. The phoenix spoke telepathically, explaining that I’d always wanted a nickname, and had been suppressing the pain of hearing and seeing my own name for far too long. My power animals wanted to help me overcome that, and were giving me this name to mark the moment I could let go of the roles I had promised to other people as my given name, and seize my independence in an identity I’d always had, but could finally set free.

This Naked Tree christened that nickname for me. I held out my hand and touched it. I felt its strength, resilience, and life force pulsing outward and into my very being. We merged, and I knew this tree needed to become part of my anchor spot for future shamanic journeys. Later, my therapist would help me do just that in a guided relaxation exercise. I had no idea the spiritual medicine it would hold for me when I met with my classmates from my online Global Nature class taught by Sandra Ingerman.

#naked tree #shamanism #phoenix #trees #sequoia national park #sequoia #fire #dream lessons

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cairnme · 6 years

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Valley of Fire State Park Cell Phone Reception

Well worth the drive from Las Vegas (about an hour and fifteen minutes), Valley of Fire State Park is one of Nevada’s first and best state parks. The diversity and drama of the landscape in this park are spectacular. Slot canyons, petroglyphs, unique stone formations and colorful wavy rocks provide incredible opportunities for photos.

With limited cell coverage, this is a great wilderness area for finding solitude. The Valley of Fire takes its name from the red sandstone formations here that were created from great shifting sand dunes about 150 million years ago. This is a fun place for adults and children alike. Here are our favorite hikes and a crowdsourced cell coverage summary:

Mouse's Tank

Mouse’s Tank is an easy, often crowded, three-quarter-mile out-and-back hike along a sandstone trail. You’ll wind through a canyon with hundreds of petroglyphs. The trail is flat with essentially no elevation gain if you stick to the path. You’ll dead end at the Mouse's Tank; a natural water catchment that in most months will contain water. You’ll find many nooks and crannies in which to crawl, making this a great hike for kids. However, there is no cell coverage here; our advice is to put your device in airplane mode in order to conserve your battery.

Fire Wave

This hike has colorful rock hills and mounds that stretch out from your feet in every direction as you stand on striated stone fields. The trail is an out-and-back hike that descends from the parking lot and across a sandy slope. You’ll find wildflowers here in the spring. The trail is marked with posts and stone cairns, but this is an area where you can wander freely and explore. Step on rocks to avoid damaging the fragile vegetation. Each direction reveals unique perspectives. This trail offers little shade and the rocks radiate heat on hot days. Take plenty of water and protect yourself from the sun with proper clothing, sunglasses, and sunscreen. Plan for at least an hour long hike. There is spotty Verizon cell coverage on this trail.

White Domes

If you only have time for one hike in the Valley of Fire, make it this one. This scenic one-mile loop hike has some interesting treats along the path, including a movie set and a dramatic (but short) slot canyon. There is a branch that you can take to a smaller less traveled canyon which is worth exploring but we recommend a GPS or the Cairn app to navigate. Cell coverage is spotty to non-existent.

Elephant Rock

This is one of the most dramatic rock formations in the park. You can clearly see the elephant shape and it’s one of the most photographed sites in the park. It is one of the last spots of good cell coverage as you enter the park. The trail is located near the east entrance, immediately after entering the park. From the parking area, you can hike along a trail that parallels the road for a short distance. The elephant will be off to your right, set high up on the rocks above you. From here the trail continues on and around behind the rock that Elephant Rock is perched upon. Watch out for snake dens.

Lastly, the campground and visitor center have no cell coverage or Wi-Fi, so plan accordingly. We recommend that you download all of your Cairn maps before heading into the park.

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vivianbates · 6 years

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Anza Loop Trail in the Santa Monica Mountains

In a rolling, grassy stretch of the Santa Monica Mountains near the 101 Freeway, Anza Loop Trail plots a course through history. Pause along the trail to study panels and plaques about the past or just breeze through the loop and enjoy the present sights and sounds.

Like Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, Anza Loop Trail takes its name from Juan Bautista de Anza who led an expedition up California, solidifying a route that is now known as El Camino Real. In 1776, while history was being made on the east coast, the Spanish were creating land routes between their settlements on the west coast. To cross between the San Fernando Valley and the Conejo Valley, Anza led a large party through the hills along Anza Loop Trail. The 101 Freeway now built to the north follows the route that Anza helped establish.

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Hiking Anza Loop Trail is like picking a glass of wine. Not white or red, but stem-less or stemmed. Starting from Juan Bautista de Anza West Trailhead off Las Virgenes Road creates a circuit with a stem that is 4.5 miles round trip with 535 feet of elevation change. Juan Bautista de Anza East Trailhead on Calabasas Road removes the stem for a 3.8-mile round trip loop with a 510 feet of elevation between its low and high points.

Directions for both trailheads are provided, beginning with the route from the west trailhead.

Anza Loop Trail from Las Virgenes Road

Departing from Juan Bautista de Anza West Trailhead delivers a lollipop loop kicking off with a short ascent to the beginning of the loop. A cluster of panels provide a lot of optional material to review before you set out. One panel explains that Anza was not the first European to take this route:

On the morning of the 15th of January 1770, the expedition led by Dog Gaspar de Portola set out from a place just south of present day Westlake Village and traveled through this valley of their way to what is now Encino in the San Fernando Valley. Portola’s expedition was the first to pass through this area as the Spanish developed a land route connecting Mexico to the San Francisco Bay. Their purpose was to establish a lifeline that would secure their outposts in Alta California against Russian attempts to create colonies of their own as far south as the San Francisco Bay.

Of course, Native Americans had been using this route between the valleys for centuries to travel for trade and resources. The Spanish made footpaths into roads.

Set out east up a wide dirt trail that heads up a gap between two grass-covered ridges. A sign notes that you are entering Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy Zone Parkland and lists the distance to Anza Loop Trail at 0.3 miles. March up the trail, rising to nice over-the-shoulder views toward Agoura Hills framed by the grassy ridges.

The trail from Las Virgenes Road to Anza Loop Trail

As the trail crests, pass a bench below an oak tree, where you can pause for a sit (the path to the left of the bench is not part of the loop but appears to lead to a nice perch). Just ahead, meet the junction where the loop begins. To the right, a single track branch of Anza Loop Trail rises up a grassy slope. You could certainly take this path, but the directions offered here tackle the loop in a clockwise direction (this way, you’ll get to finish the loop with nice views toward Ladyface Peak). Stay to the left through the junction, proceeding on the wide dirt trail, which curves to the left and eases off the side of the ridge through a few more oaks.

Less than a tenth of a mile past the junction, pass a plaque and a vista looking out over the 101 Freeway. It’s time to get the “freeway-adjacent” part of the loop out of the way… Press on.

Anza Loop Trail descends toward the 101 Freeway

In another tenth of a mile (and half a mile from the start), don’t follow the road when it twists to the left. Instead, proceed straight and go down a single track (to avoid covering some extra distance). At the bottom of the slope, bear right as the two paths come back together. Proceed across a grassy oak-dotted landscape for another tenth of a mile to a plaque entitled, “On the Trail with Anza,” describing the history you are hiking through:

In 1775, Juan Bautista de Anza was give permission by the Viceroy of New Spain to found a mission and presidio at the port of San Francisco. He enlisted soldiers with families from the area around Culiacan and other small communities on the west coast of what is now Mexico and headed north to the Mexico – California frontier. In October of that year, Anza’s expedition set out from Tubac in Sonora (now southern Arizona) to follow the trail Anza explored two years earlier.

Proceed across a relatively level stretch of the trail, going through grasses beside an oak grove. About a third of a mile after the panel describing Anza’s expedition, the trail makes an abrupt left turn and cuts across a draw in the terrain. Rise up to a double-track trail and turn right. The first mile of the hike is complete.

Anza Loop Trail borders the 101 Freeway

Rush your way through the next stretch of the trail, which is far closer to the freeway than any hiking trail should be. Come to a plaque honoring the site where Anza’s large expedition made camp on the 73rd night of the journey from Tubac (Arizona) to San Francisco.

Near this spot on February 22, 1776, Juan Bautista de Anza and his expedition of approximately 200 colonists, and 100 soldiers, cowboys, and muleteers and about 1,000 head of livestock, camped on their way to settle what is now San Francisco.

An expedition of that size could definitely cut a lasting trail across the land. Anza’s expedition included the earliest Spanish families to settle in Alta California.

Walk another 250 feet up the trail and come to Juan Bautista de Anza East Trailhead at the end of Calabasas Road, 1.45 miles from the west trailhead. To continue with the loop, walk up the right shoulder, where you may pass some parked cars. Just past mileage marker 0.06, find a paved trail dropping off the south side of the road. A metal chain crosses this paved trail as it plunges to a gully. A sign to the right reads, “Anza Loop Trail (3.7 mi round trip).”

Follow this short stretch of introductory pavement as it dips across the gully and curves to the left. Rise to the end of the pavement, just 0.05 miles from Calabasas Road. Take the dirt single-track parting to the right, next to a sign for Anza Loop Trail with a not-so-helpful directional arrow.

Anza Loop Trail

Venture south up the single-track trail, which goes gradually uphill across a grassland that slopes from right to left. Pass a solitary oak and make your way up to a second confusingly-marked junction, 0.2 miles from the start. At this split in the trail, one branch drops to the left toward trees gathered in the drainage below. This is New Millennium Loop Trail. Bear right instead and proceed up Anza Loop Trail.

The trail weaves through creases in the grassy ridges, offering perspectives back toward the 101 Freeway and the hills beyond. Ahead of you, a long, concrete staircase comes into view, cutting down the center of a manicured bowl that is topped by a row of houses in a neighborhood above. These Calabasas Stairs are a target for those looking for outdoor workouts.

Anza Loop Trail approaches the Calabasas Stairs

Wrap around a crease in the terrain and ascend a slope to the right of the staircase. Come to an unmarked split, half a mile from Calabasas Road, where a path on the left drops to the base of the Calabasas Stairs. If you feel like interrupting your hike with a stair workout, by all means turn left. Going down the path to the bottom of the stairs, up to the top of the stairs, back down the steps, and back up to Anza Loop Trail adds 0.4 miles to this hike. If you’re not compelled to visit the long concrete steps, tackle that elevation on a dirt trail instead and stay to the right up Anza Loop Trail.

A side view of the long staircase

Another 250 feet up the trail, a sharp switchback to the right leads away from views of the Calabasas Stairs. Continue through several more switchbacks on the longest ascent of the hike. As the views expand, look northeast toward the Santa Susana Mountains and the west end of the San Fernando Valley. When the trail levels out, 2.45 miles from the start, go across a ridge, passing a trail on the left that rises to the end of a road in the neighborhood above.

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Drop across a small, pleasant ravine, briefly losing sight of the neighborhood before rising to a service road on the edge of the development. Bear right on this paved road. Fortunately, the pavement ends after 100 yards. When it does, continue straight onto a wide unpaved trail. Now 2.75 miles of the hike are behind you. In another eighth of a mile, you’ll leave the neighborhood behind and be welcomed into wild, grassy hills.

Traveling away from the housing development, the trail remains level for a stretch, offering some big views from the highest parts of the loop at over 1,300 feet of elevation. To reward the completion of the first 3 miles of the hike, enjoy excellent perspectives west toward Ladyface Peak and other members of the Santa Monica Mountains. The community of Lost Hills is cradled below.

Looking west from Anza Loop Trail over Agoura Hills toward Ladyface Peak

Tipping downhill, the trail makes its way around a grassy ridge. Come to a marked junction where a single track parts to the left. Stay to the right down the wide trail. In another 0.15 miles, come around a bend to the left with another marked junction. This time turn right up the single-track trail, leaving the wider trail.

Pass between a few oaks to ease across a ridge. As the trail plunges down the other side, the views open up looking out over the grassy ridges where the hike began. Drop through some tight switchbacks to meet the wide trail. Having hiked the full loop, bear left to make your way back to Juan Buatista de Anza West Trailhead to complete the 4.5-mile hike.

Closing out the loop

The turn-by-turn directions for Anza Loop Trail from Juan Bautista de Anza West Trailhead are:

Hike east from the trailhead off Las Virgenes Road (0 miles)

Stay to the left at the start of the loop (0.3 miles)

Stay to the right as another dirt road joins the trail (0.4 miles)

As the wide trail twists to the left, hike straight onto a single-track trail (0.5 miles)

Down the slope, bear right as the trails reunite (0.52 miles)

Pass a panel describing Anza’s expedition (0.62 miles)

Go around a draw in the terrain, come up to a jeep road, and turn right (1 mile)

Pass another plaque for Anza’s camping location (1.4 miles)

Reach Juan Bautista de Anza East Trailhead and walk up Calabasas Road (1.45 miles)

Turn right off Calabasas Road onto a paved trail (1.55 miles)

Cross a dip, rise to the end of the pavement, and turn right up a single track (1.6 miles)

Come to a marked split and bear right (1.75 miles)

Pass a path on the left descending to the Calabasas Stairs (2.05 miles)

Stay to the right past a neighborhood connector trail (2.45 miles)

Rise to a paved road and bear right (2.7 miles)

Cross the end of the pavement and proceed onto a wide trail (2.75 miles)

Stay to the right down the wide trail (3.65 miles)

Leave the wide trail and turn right up a single-track trail (3.8 miles)

Come down to the initial wide trail, close the loop, and turn left (4.2 miles)

Return to Juan Buatista de Anza West Trailhead (4.5 miles)

Anza Loop Trail from Calabasas Road

For the shorter version of this hike, start from Juan Bautista de Anza East Trailhead on Calabasas Road. Walk up from the end of the road to find the southbound start of the loop. Hike past the Calabasas Stairs and the neighborhood above. Then explore the grassy ridges on the west side of the loop. After putting in 2.65 miles of hiking, hit the junction near Juan Bautista de Anza West Trailhead. At that point, just turn right (away from the bench) and follow Anza Loop Trail for 1.15 miles back to Calabasas Road.

Calabasas Road from Anza Loop Trail

The turn-by-turn directions for Anza Loop Trail from Juan Bautista de Anza East Trailhead are:

Start near the end of Calabasas Road, by mile marker 0.06, and take the paved trail south across a dip (0 miles)

When the pavement rises to the left and comes to an end, turn right up a single-track trail (0.05 miles)

Come to a marked split and bear right (0.2 miles)

Pass a path on the left descending to the Calabasas Stairs (0.5 miles)

Stay to the right past a neighborhood connector trail (0.9 miles)

Rise to a paved road and bear right (1.15 miles)

Cross the end of the pavement and proceed onto a wide trail (1.2 miles)

Enjoy views of Ladyface Peak and stay to the right down the wide trail (2.1 miles)

Leave the wide trail and turn right up a single-track trail (2.25 miles)

Come down to a wide trail and turn right, away from Juan Buatista de Anza West Trailhead (2.65 miles)

Stay to the right as a wide road joins the trail (2.75 miles)

As the wide trail twists to the left, hike straight onto a single-track trail (2.95 miles)

Down the slope, bear right as the trails reunite (2.97 miles)

Pass a panel describing Anza’s expedition (3.07 miles)

Go around a draw in the terrain, come up to a jeep road, and turn right (3.35 miles)

Pass another plaque for Anza’s camping location (3.75 miles)

Reach Juan Bautista de Anza East Trailhead at the end of Calabasas Road, about a tenth of a mile down from the start of the loop (3.8 miles)

Anza Loop Trail is dog-friendly, but bikes are not allowed. Parts of Anza Loop Trail overlap the longer New Millennium Loop Trail. No permit is required for this hike in Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy Zone Parkland. Parking at both trailheads is free, so get out and enjoy!

To get to Juan Bautista de Anza East Trailhead: From Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley, go west on the 101 Freeway North to exit 30 for Calabasas Parkway. At the end of the offramp, bear left onto Ventura Boulevard. Make an immediate left onto Parkway Calabasas. Cross over the freeway and turn right on Calabasas Road. Drive 1.5 miles down this road to the trailhead on the left, just before the end of the road. Halfway down Calabasas Road, you’ll need to bear left past Mureau Road to stay committed to Calabasas Road.

Coming from the Conejo Valley, go east on the 101 Freeway South to exit 30 for Calabasas Parkway. Bear left at the end of the offramp onto Calabasas Road. Drive 1.2 miles west on Calabasas Road to the trailhead.

Trailhead address: Calabasas Road, Calabasas, CA 91302 Trailhead coordinates: 34.1499, -118.6769 (34° 08′ 59.6″N 118° 40′ 36.8″W)

To get to Juan Bautista de Anza West Trailhead: From the San Fernando Valley, travel west on the 101 Freeway North to exit 32 for Las Virgenes Road. At the end of the offramp, turn left and cross over the freeway, heading south. Drive a quarter mile to the first intersection, which has a traffic light. Turn left up a paved road in front of the Mobile gas station. Some parking is available here. The pavement ends after less than a tenth of a mile as the road splits. Turn right up the dirt road that leads east, away from Las Virgenes Road. Drive up to the trailhead where additional parking is available.

Coming from the Conejo Valley, travel east on the 101 Freeway South to exit 32 for Las Virgenes Road. At the end of the offramp, drive straight across Las Virgenes Road up a paved trail to the left of the gas station. When the pavement ends, bear right at the split to go east up a short dirt road to the trailhead.

Taking mass transit? A bus stop used by LA Metro Bus 161 and LADOT Transit Commuter Express 423 is located on the west side of Las Virgenes Road right next to the trailhead. It doesn’t get much more convenient than that!

Trailhead address: 4813 Las Virgenes Road, Calabasas, CA 91302 Trailhead coordinates: 34.14655, -118.6963 (34° 08′ 47.6″N 118° 41′ 46.7″W)

from hikespeak.com https://www.hikespeak.com/trails/anza-loop-trail-calabasas/

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rickklane · 7 years

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10 Forest Hotspots for Bird-watching

August 28th, 2017|Tags: recreation, wildlife|0 Comments

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By Melanie Friedel, American Forests

Bird-watching can be an exciting way to explore the outdoors, or simply a relaxing activity while escaping into nature. Unfortunately, it’s not always easy to find exciting birds in your backyard, but fear not — this list of the top forest spots to go birding will help you score some amazing finds!

Chiricahua Mountains, Coronado National Forest, Arizona

Credit: Alan Shmierer

Don’t be deceived by the miles of seemingly barren lands. These mountains rise up from the Arizona desert, providing a cool and wet climate perfect for a rare tropical bird: the elegant trogon. This metallic green and bright-red bird is the only trogon found regularly in North American forests. Thankfully, Coronado National Forest offers 13 trails, so pick one, grab your binoculars and get searching!

Sequoia & Kings Canyon National Parks, California

Credit: U.S. Forest Service

This pair of parks is special because it attracts species that thrive in riparian habitats. You’re likely to see the beautiful and unique California spotted owl. It lives in elevation ranges between 1,000 and 8,000 feet, but it can only be found in the Sierra Nevada and southern mountains along the coast of California. If you’re lucky, you’ll catch it spreading its wings. Its wingspan can be as wide as 5 feet! The park recommends visiting in the spring through the fall to see this treasure of a bird.

While you’re there, you might also run into the mountain quail, band-tailed pigeon, white-headed woodpecker, hermit warbler, yellow-billed Cuckoo, great gray owl, flammulated owl and the willow flycatcher, just a few more of the park’s wide range of resident birds.

Acadia National Park, Maine

Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Accompanied by the scenic views from Maine’s cliff-lined coast, this is the perfect site for spotting a ruby-throated hummingbird along a forested trail. The park offers guided bird-watching and walking tours, but even if you venture on your own, you have a great chance of seeing not only the ruby-throated hummingbird, but also a peregrine falcon.

Paradise area & Sunrise area, Mount Rainier National Park, Washington

Credit: Ron Knight

This 14,410-foot, active volcano is home to plenty of birds that are sure to keep you amazed with every step. In the Paradise area, you’ll find the sooty grouse, band-tailed pigeon, red-breasted sapsucker, mountain bluebird and more. Along streams, look out for the American dipper, and in more open areas, check out the American pipit.

The Sunrise area can be found at an altitude of 6,400 feet — the highest point accessible by paved roads. Here you’ll find the boreal owl, gray-crowned rosy-finch, and a small, round-bodied bird called the white-tailed ptarmigan. The neat thing about this bird is that it changes color between seasons, going from completely white in the winter to white with gray and brown spots in the summer.

Mountain Bluebird Trails, Montana

Credit: Tom Koerner/U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service

The birdhouses set up along these trails provide inviting homes for bluebirds and are bound to have you seeing lots along your way. The birdhouse entrances are just small enough to let in bluebirds, but too small for predators like magpies and raccoons to get in. Prepare to be amazed by the streaks of blue in the sky as the bluebirds fly past, or appreciate them up close as they take breaks along these trails constructed purely to preserve their habitat.

Sandia Mountain Wilderness, Cibola National Forest, New Mexico

Along the 117 miles of trail, you can find many open clearings to look up and catch the raptors — another name for birds of prey — soaring above you. There’s a tram that can take you to the top of the ridge, or you can hike it and catch some views along the way. Whatever you choose, you’re bound to see at least one of the 18 species of raptors that fly over this land.

Magee Marsh Wildlife Area, Ohio

Credit: Joel Trick/U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service

More than 300 migratory bird species pass through this 2,000-acre stopover. It’s one of the only beach ridges left on the southern shore of Lake Erie and one of the few remnants of the Great Black Swamp. But what makes this area even more unique and valuable are the several components that make it a vital marsh system. Here, you’ll see orioles, vireos, flycatchers and raptors, but what the area is most known for is its warblers. Look out for the Kirtland’s warbler, a Wildlands for Wildlife focal species and a rare bird found almost only in jack pine forests and identified by its bright yellow belly and blue-feathered head.

Shenandoah National Park, Virginia

Credit: Bill Thompson/U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service

This is the perfect place to enjoy nature’s changing autumn colors or perch yourself atop one of the many hills, but as you make your way through the 500 miles of scenic trails, take your time and look out for the wide variety of local birds.

The black-and-white warbler’s thin, squeaky song represents the beginning of spring. You can spot it by looking for a small bird striped with black and white feathers, nimbly creeping along tree trunks and branches, searching for insects or building a nest in a pile of leaf litter.

The white-breasted nuthatch might also be searching for insects and meaty seeds. It gets its name from its technique of jamming large nuts and acorns into tree bark and then poking at them with its sharp beak until they “hatch” open to release a seed. Check out its strokes of black, gray and white feathers. It’s small, but not hard to track down with its loud and nasal call.

Hanging out in the shrubs of the forest understory, you might find a hooded warbler — look out for its bright yellow body, black neck and head, and the thick stripe of yellow across its face.

Another bright yellow bird you’re likely to find here is the cedar waxwing. Its silky feathers fade from brown to cobalt blue to yellow at the tail, with red-tipped wings and a black mask. When searching, listen for a high-pitched and thin whistle call. In the fall, hundreds group together to gather berries. Don’t be surprised by its impressive aeronautic skills if you see one in the sky!

If you hear a loud rummaging from the undergrowth of the forest, don’t worry — it’s most likely a eastern towhee. Its movement is loud for its size, but it’s a very common bird identified by its deep black back and reddish-brown belly. They like to hang out in hidden spots, so you might only be able to catch a glimpse through the branches.

Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado

Credit: PIXNIO

This park is full of a variety of species from birds of prey and woodpeckers to hummingbirds and water fowl. The park provides such a diverse habitat that it’s a designated Global Important Bird Area. Along with the white-tailed ptarmigan and the three-toed woodpecker, you can find the exotically colored western tanager and the rare but energetic and social pygmy nuthatch.

Hawk Mountain Sanctuary, Appalachian Trail, Pennsylvania

Credit: Darren and Brad/Flickr

Of course there are some notable birding sites along the entire trail, but Hawk Mountain never fails to impress. The crosswinds create the perfect situation for the raptors to soar on the updrafts. The best time to see a variety of hawks, eagles, falcons and vultures is from September to November, when they make their journey south from Canada, New England and New York. The trail is a great place to camp out for a few days or even just spend an afternoon on one of the many tours and birding events the trail has to offer.

All of these beautiful wildernesses and birds are waiting for you. And these spots are only a few of the amazing areas across the country where rare and exotic birds can be found. Start with these, and see what you can find. You just might find them a little more exciting than your backyard.

The post 10 Forest Hotspots for Bird-watching appeared first on American Forests.

from American Forests http://www.americanforests.org/blog/10-forest-hotspots-for-bird-watching/

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