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Three Fingered Jack

Taking advantage of the nice weather, we took a six mile hike up the long arm of Three Fingered Jack. Not too shabby for a guy with a migraine and a girl with a sore ankle. The landscape was scattered with the remains of burnt out trees from an old forest fire. I kept saying “It’s so pretty!” Objectively, it was probably more just visually interesting, but that kind of landscape strikes my eyes as pretty in its own quiet, haunting sort of way.

The clouds were constantly moving, but eventually I got some mostly unobscured shots of Mt. Washington. The Sisters and Broken Top peeked through a bit, but we couldn’t see the peaks in the clouds. Eventually we turned back when it got snowy. There’s still a lot of snow in these mountains.

When we got back to Cuddlebus I went down and soaked my sore ankle in the lake. It hasn’t been the same since I broke it in January.

Not long after, Brad said, “I could be wrong, but based on the look of the sky out here it just might be the apocalypse.” Sure enough, the skies are dark again with black, ominous clouds moving in. That sunny window didn’t last for very long. The weather held long enough to cook some hot dogs outside by the lake. We ate hot dogs while the mosquitos quietly tried to eat us… Poetic.

In other news, Brad dropped his reader glasses down the vault toilet. They fell right off of his head when he leaned forward to lift the toilet lid, and down into the abyss they went. We laughed and laughed. Oh well, good thing he has another pair! One must always have multiple pairs of readers.



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