Dead Fish in a Box

The chronicles of a suburban fishpimp trying to keep it rural.

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Location: United States

Sunday, July 17, 2005

The People Love the Hydro Races

I had work tickets to see the M’s play Friday night. I was feeling pretty good about going to see the game; I signed up for this game months ago, and it turns out to be the game in which Rafael Palmiero should get his 3,000th hit. I called one client who I knew was a big baseball fan; he told me he probably couldn’t make it. I said “C’mon, man! How often do you get to see someone get their 3,000th hit?”

“Well, I go to see Rod Carew get his 3,000th. Does that count?”

“Shut up. You’re off the list.”

I gave two of the tickets to someone else. He sent his wife & son, so I didn’t even get to talk fish. Oh well.

Palmiero got the hit on his third plate appearance. The crowd went nuts. Big time. It seemed to me that the Seattle sports fans were growing in maturity, appreciating this great Baseball milestone. They put up quite an ovation, louder than anything they offered before or after. That is until the green hydro won the hydro race. *Sigh.*

Saturday we went for a hike. Mrs. Fishpimp is training for her climb up Kilimanjaro next month, so she wanted to drag me up & down steep hills for an afternoon. I suggested Granite Mountain – it’s pretty steep – 4,000’ gain in 4 miles, but it was pouring at the trailhead. So we went to Plan B: we headed over the pass to the Salmon La Sac area, which’s name is almost as fun to say as its neighbor – Wish Poosh. We ran the Little Red Zipper (our Honda civic) up 7 miles of “unimproved” road to the Knox Creek trailhead, poor little the Zipper. The trail switches back & forth up Thorp Mountain through some beautiful alpine meadows. Unfortunately, the weather we went East to avoid decided to follow us over the hill, and the beautiful view was seriously reduced. Then it got a little breezy; we put our jackets on. To this point it had been pretty dry, but the moisture on all the brush overgrowing the trail completely soaked my pants and ran down into my boots. Then it started to rain. Damn.

When we got to the top of the ridge I found a sheltered spot and dealt with my footwear situation, dumping a good ½ cup of water out of each boot, and wringing another ¾ cup from each sock. At least my feet weren’t cold – cold, wet feet is pure misery when there’s no shelter to be had. We remembered reading something about a lookout at the top of the mountain, so we pressed on through the wind & the rain.

I hate hiking in weather like that because it fogs up my glasses something fierce. I kept thinking about my Chilkoot trail ordeal of ’99 when I got separated from my group and wandered way off trail – grande bad deal. It was so wet that my boxers were sticking to my legs – I made a big move up the rock face and tore my drawers from stem to stern! Fortunately one of my teammates heard my cries of consternation, and we Marco Polo-ed our way back together.

We got up to the top of Thorp and lo! There was a fire lookout, but it appeared to be all boarded up. Fortunately, that didn’t stop me from trying the door. It was unlocked! Yee Haw! We holed up, dried out, & ate lunch while we waited out the storm. We were totally unprepared for that kind of weather – Jeff Renner said sunny & 70. Bastard.

Once it cleared up it turned out to be a pretty nice day. I actually got some nice photos once the clouds lifted. Unfortunately, between the extra drive time, waiting out the storm, and, and the emergency DQ blizzard run into Cle Elum we were late getting back into town and we ended up missing the annual fishhouse picnic. Damn, no hot dogs. Instead we cracked open a bottle of Zinfandel and enjoyed steaks in the sun in the back yard. All things considered, not a bad weekend.


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