It starts to rain. Now, last week it rained on our hike. That's fine. Whatever. I can handle a little wetness. Then it starts to rain. And we know my dog is a pansy. He starts shaking. We're not even halfway through the 5 mile trail at this point. We get to a road. Finally. We're both completely soaked at this point. It's cold. There's no one else in sight. Because they all have brains and have chosen to leave the park. Mentally healthy people don't go play in the thunderstorm with 3 dogs.
We decide to take the road back. Because two and a half miles of muddy rocky trail does not sound like it's going to work at this point. Our dogs are beginning to resemble drowned rats. We set out on the road, completely unsure of where we're going. But there! There's a shelter! A park map perhaps?! A car is parked, and we see two people in the shelter.
We approach said shelter slowly, an eerie music floating through the air and slowing our approach. Who are these people? And why are they on top of the picnic table in lawn chairs? We tossed around several ideas. KKK? Satanists? Polygamists? Naturally, we look for the best in people.
Choking on smoke as we approached, I asked them if they minded if we stood under the shelter for a minute, and explained that we were lost and hoping to find a map. She explained that we should take the access road we had passed coming off the trail and head to the right to get back to the road leading to where we were parked. So we make a quick exit and walk up the nasty gravel road. We make it to the end and find ourselves on the highway. Obviously we can't walk three dogs along a main road with no walkway. So we turn around and try to plan another course of action.
Passing back by creepy polygamist people, I suggest turning off the main road again in the direction we needed to go. We begin winding around into nowhere, discussing being chased by polar bears. Then Rachel injured herself. I threw her around my shoulders to protect her bum ankle, all three dogs pulling on my arm as I walked 7 miles uphill. Then came the earthquake.
Okay not really. But we really did walk forever down the windy wet road, and eventually come to our trail. I made the call that we should pick up the trail there and take it back to where we began. Again, epic fail. We walk a ways into this trail and have the deja vu feelings. Not entirely okay with this. Finally, we sit on a muddy rock on the hill and plan our course of action. I call some people and have my roommate look up the number for the park ranger. No dice. No one was available to help us. The recording suggested calling metro. So... we did.
An hour later we still hadn't gotten a response from metro. We were cranky, cold, and our girly puppies were horribly miserable. Desperate, we call 911. To be hung up on because we were not in a life or death situation. Whatever. We call Kim and Susan, and they agree to rescue us. Of course, several minutes later, Metro finally returns our call, and we cancel our ride, choosing instead to let the cop pick us and our drowned rat dogs up.
We wait, sitting on a big rock, letting the dogs hang out. The rain has begun to let up and we're freezing but relaxed. Then Laney jumps into the creek and emerges covered in mud. At this point all we can do is laugh at how absurd our situation is.
The cop arrives, we load all our mud and stench into his back seat and accept his ride back to our vehicles. Drenched, cold, and tired, three hours later, we headed back to Kingston Springs, where Kim and Susan took us to get some Chinese, then made us brownies. Here I sit on the couch, finally completely warm and comfortable, 5 dogs cuddling on the couches and chairs with us. All in all, we came out unscathed. We just looked like this: