The famous scene from Pulp Fiction came into my head as I was descending from the Jackal Hut in Colorado, last Sunday. And when I say descending, let me be very specific by stating hiking down; since half of the descent was also snowboarding down an icy, narrow track; which at times was through thick evergreen trees. The snowboarding section down was so atrocious it reminded me of sliding over coral reef....it was a pure adrenaline rush and by the time I was unstrapping my bindings and getting prepared to hike the remaining 2 miles to the trailhead, I was psyched and had loved every second of it! The snowboarding section was technical and I was surprised not to have taken any major diggers. But don't be fooled and think that I am a Bad Mother F*cker for this feat. When we first started skiing through the icy meadow near the ridgeline, Aaron offered to take my backpack since I couldn't seem to get off my butt and on my feet with such a heavy load on my backside.
WARNING!: The phrase Bad Mother F*cker is about to be over-used! For the record, I do not promote the use of this ill-termed lingo. In fact, last Monday I sat at lunch with a second grade student named Luke. He asked me, 'do you know what H-E-Double Hockey Sticks means'? No, I responded. 'It means the F-word', said Luke. I then told Luke that intelligent people can make the choice to use nice words that show their sagacity. So, let's be clear that the use of these naughty words you are about to read are used by choice to illustrate how an ingenious adult like myself can make the choice to use such stupid words and still sound really intelligent. I didn't think Luke would understand this twist in hypocrisy.
Wait, were was I....that's right, Pulp Fiction. The famous scene in the diner when Samuel L. Jackson is being robbed and he asks Ringo to reach into the bag and get out his wallet. "It is the one that says Bad Mother F*cker". If you don't remember the scene, you should take thirty eight seconds to watch it....afterall, if you are reading my blog post, you are probably doing so as a manner to procrastinate at work or at home....so continue.
WARNING!: The phrase Bad Mother F*cker is about to be over-used! For the record, I do not promote the use of this ill-termed lingo. In fact, last Monday I sat at lunch with a second grade student named Luke. He asked me, 'do you know what H-E-Double Hockey Sticks means'? No, I responded. 'It means the F-word', said Luke. I then told Luke that intelligent people can make the choice to use nice words that show their sagacity. So, let's be clear that the use of these naughty words you are about to read are used by choice to illustrate how an ingenious adult like myself can make the choice to use such stupid words and still sound really intelligent. I didn't think Luke would understand this twist in hypocrisy.
Wait, were was I....that's right, Pulp Fiction. The famous scene in the diner when Samuel L. Jackson is being robbed and he asks Ringo to reach into the bag and get out his wallet. "It is the one that says Bad Mother F*cker". If you don't remember the scene, you should take thirty eight seconds to watch it....afterall, if you are reading my blog post, you are probably doing so as a manner to procrastinate at work or at home....so continue.
Now that you've had a sneak peak into my brain and the amazing thoughts that circulate through it while I am trudging down a mountainside, I should explain why the phrase 'Bad Mother F*cker' was floating adrift my cerebral cortex.
This mantra, if I may, was repeated in my head as I reflected upon the journey that was just undertaken. The adventure began, for me, at 3:10 p.m on Thursday as I was finishing teaching my last class of the day. I snuck behind the bookshelf in my classroom and sent Jill a text to look up in the windows of the school building from where she was parked. As she looked up, all 8 of my sixth grade students were pressed up against the window waving and making funny faces at Jill, Aaron, and Sam as they sat in the car waiting for me to make my escape. As soon as school ended, we drove to Grand Junction, Colorado for the evening where we would meet seven of our other wonderful Salt Lake City friends for the evening. Since we were the first of three cars to pull into G.J., we did what any other hungry and tired road adventurers would do; we went for greasy Mexican food. By the time we got back to the Mesa Inn, we were greeted by Jaime, Nicole and Mike Malone. And early in the morning, we had our first glimpse of the White-Hineys and the B-Otts as they departed for breakfast at Denny's. If you have yet to click on the names of the above characters, I would encourage you to do so!...a few more characters will be mentioned below.
About three hours later, we arrived at the trailhead to meet up with the remainder of our fellow adventurers: A.S and Dick from Denver, Ally and Bova from SLC. In total, we had an expedition group of fifteen. Our winter hut trip, began unlike the two other winter hut trips I've gone on with this group of friends...by hiking on the dirt, in boots. We hiked with our backpacks full of food and booze to last us two nights/three days and had our skis attached to our packs. It made for a heavy load. Typically a winter hut or yurt trip is easy since you are skiing and can pull a sled to lighten the weight of your backpack. However, my off road tires for the sled were in the shop, so it all went on my back. Within the first 10 minutes we came to a river crossing which is usually crossed by an ice-bridge. Today, without this bridge, we had to carefully step on rocks and a soggy, wooden pallet that were being washed over by the cold river water. Once across, most of us had to make final adjustments to our packs and off we went, gaining 2400 feet of elevation over the next four miles. Our long hike in consisted of many breaks to aide our lungs as they struggled to suck in air at 11,000 feet, some safety meeting breaks or trail shortening breaks, putting our skis on to skin up the mountain, and taking our skis off, only to hike up the mountain, with our skis in our hands.
As previously mentioned, I was reflecting on the trip in it's entirety when the scene from Pulp Fiction popped into my head. And during this time of contemplation, I may have even affirmed aloud, all 15 of us who just hiked up to the hut are BAD MOTHER F*CKERS! Being that our trip concluded on Easter Day, I would have found it fitting to hand out a wallet, as pictured above, to each of my amazing friends as they arrived to the car at the trailhead; as if it were a trophy of completion. And if I am going as far to conceptualize handing out these wallets, I would also have to state that I would be dressed up as the Easter Bunny as I did it.
Cheers to my friends! Who supported me as I became dehydrated and grouchy at the final push up, who made me laugh, who fed me fantastic food, who lugged yo-yos up the mountain to give each of us Easter Day treats, who lounged with me on the hut deck in the warm spring sunshine, and who shared with me these moments of time which will not be forgotten. Cheers to next years trip, in hopes that Sammy and I can fly up to be part of this special event and that we are not too wimpy to partake after living on a warm, tropical beach.
Hiking into Jackal Hut...the long dirt road
River Crossing
Beth: Have you seen 'em? Sam: Seen Who? Beth: These Nutz!
First Glimpse of Snow on the Way Up
The Bad Mother Fuckers of Jackal Hut
Yurts are great...but huts are amazing!
Morning Coffee + My Book = A Delightful Morning
Hiking Out to the Trailhead
