Okay that title is a big fat lie. It’s no longer February, and it’s not even a “beach” photo to meet The Canadian’s prompt. I do have a fun idea for that – obviously post-February Photofest – but wasn’t able to pull it off before the month ended. Hopefully he’ll forgive me and enjoy them when they do happen. Or maybe… *hmm…*
Maybe he’ll build my negligence and tardiness into a “comeuppance” the next time I see him. *smirk*
In any case. We (Adam and I) did try to get “beach.” I had a grand idea to do something silly at what passes for a beach here in this landlocked Midwestern city (a gravel bank on a river) and that attempt resulted in what I used to call a “ramble” when he and I and Warren did them: basically adventuring about with a goal or goals in mind, but not letting those goals be prescriptive. In other words, let side trips and squirrel moments happen and lead us on further adventures as the day progresses.
So: Plan A was to go to a local park with one such “beach” on a weekday that my office was closed, and, wearing just my long parka and boots, sit on the gravel beach, like it was the tropics, only cold. Though it was gravel, it was a nice wide swath of gravel, with the river and the bare trees as background. It would be an amusing shot, thought, and since it was a weekday, the park wouldn’t be crowded. Besides, we’d be able to park right down by the beach entrance, so my near nudity would not be noticed, and with the cold weather there’d surely be no one there anyway.
Wrong, wrong and wrong.
1. The weather was GORGEOUS, and since kids were also out of school for the day, there were in the neighborhood of, oh, about a million of the little rugrats and their harried parents out and about.
2. The park had closed off the road that led to the beach, so we had to walk about a quarter mile to get there – which wasn’t going to work in just a coat and boots.
3. The beach itself – was no longer a beach. Flooding had reshaped the riverbanks and there was a “riparian recovery” going on, complete with fences and “keep out” signs.
So. Plan B began to take shape. “How about we head up to the train trestle,” I said. “There’s sure to be something beach-like on the banks of the creek.” We’d been there before with W and done some Rope-on-the-Run there, and more recently had hiked with the Kinky Hikers near there, so I felt confident we could make something work. Also, it was far enough up the trail that (surely) it wouldn’t be too crowded.
What I hadn’t counted on was the sheer number of small humans and their keepers out and about. They were everywhere, even that far up the trail. I’m kind of glad they were, though, because what ended up being the “beach” was really fairly unattractive.
Okay. We needed a Plan C. And, as so often happens on these Rambles, my thoughts turned to Scavenger Hunt locations. I had already seen what I wanted to do.
I had been pondering getting “train tracks” or “train trestle” since we’d come upon it. Unfortunately, for the same reason that the beach had disappeared, the creek had flooded as well, and the spot I wanted to go was inaccessible.
So…I came up with another plan. Plan C.1, if you will.
I may be the only person I know that is not incensed by urban graffiti. And yes, I know this is supposed to be in nature, but…I’m still fascinated by the things people choose to say, to leave behind on bathroom walls and the sides of buildings.
I felt like this was the place.
Getting disrobed was not as easy as it could have been, but I made do.
But it was worth it, no?