On Thursday we awoke to a serious reality, we were running out of groceries. It was apparent that if we wanted to continue eating, it was time to start fishing with a little more enthusiasm. I thought maybe we should go see if our luck might be better on the far side of the lake by the rocky cliff where we 'd seen little fish dimple the surface of the lake. On the hike around the lake, the dang dog, who normally trotted at my heel, went nuts chasing scent trails and eventually disappeared. We spent time calling him, but when he failed to respond, we gave up. He 'd find his way back; he always did.
We stood at the top of the small cliff and looked down at a peninsula of rock that would be a perfect place to fish. To safely get down to the …show more content…
The face, with two intermediate flat steps equally spaced between where we were and where we wanted to be, looked more like a cliff than a slope. At the bottom, tantalizingly close, was our objective, the lodge at Little Alps. We looked down the road to the right where we knew another mile of treacherous roadbed that was a challenge for a four-wheel drive vehicle waited for us.
We turned away from the unpleasant aspect of carrying our burden another mile, safely, to assess the risk of taking a more direct route down the steep slope where the lodge beckoned. I looked at Steve, and he looked at me. "What do you think?" I asked rhetorically, but I already knew.
"I think we can slide this thing to the bottom, is what I think," he said.
"Me, too," I agreed, "It beats carrying it down that rotten road another mile."
The plan was to ease the litter over the side then use gravity help overcome the friction of dragging it through the dirt. It would have been a good plan had the hillside been dirt or a little less steep. It was
We stood at the top of the small cliff and looked down at a peninsula of rock that would be a perfect place to fish. To safely get down to the …show more content…
The face, with two intermediate flat steps equally spaced between where we were and where we wanted to be, looked more like a cliff than a slope. At the bottom, tantalizingly close, was our objective, the lodge at Little Alps. We looked down the road to the right where we knew another mile of treacherous roadbed that was a challenge for a four-wheel drive vehicle waited for us.
We turned away from the unpleasant aspect of carrying our burden another mile, safely, to assess the risk of taking a more direct route down the steep slope where the lodge beckoned. I looked at Steve, and he looked at me. "What do you think?" I asked rhetorically, but I already knew.
"I think we can slide this thing to the bottom, is what I think," he said.
"Me, too," I agreed, "It beats carrying it down that rotten road another mile."
The plan was to ease the litter over the side then use gravity help overcome the friction of dragging it through the dirt. It would have been a good plan had the hillside been dirt or a little less steep. It was