I’ve read about Todd Lake in hiking guides and checked out pictures on the internet. Visually, we could not have asked for a more photo-worthy hike. The water was still, the morning sun rose over mountains, illuminating the solitaire kayaker. The meadow was full of wildflowers – purples, reds and yellows exploded against the deep green of the dewy, morning grass. From a distance, all was well.
We were greeted by a hiker listening to roaring, obnoxious music – a bitter contrast to the silence we are so accustomed to. We opted to go the opposite way of the obnoxious hiker went and started our journey around Todd Lake.
The mosquitoes must have gotten wind of our arrival, because no sooner had we started to hike, they were swarming viciously. “We should’ve brought the bug spray,” Dad said, as I scurried past him.
“Eh, we’ll be okay. We’re tough,” I tried to sound convincing, but it came out sounding more like a question.
We hiked at a steady pace, stopping only momentarily to take pictures of Mt. Bachelor rising over the tree line. This was our first mistake. Faster than I could take a picture, 2 mosquitoes attached themselves to my middle and ring finger. They were relentless, despite my incessant swatting. After that, I decided that I would have to be much quicker when taking pictures.
After a few minutes of hiking in the woods, we came to the meadow that had once looked so beautiful. Up close, however, we could see the grass was intermingled with bouts of mud. Muddy mud interwoven with small streams. This isn’t your grandma’s mud. This was the real deal. What’s a hike if you don’t get dirty, though, I thought to myself. [The answer: a stroll.]
Despite the factors warring against us, all I could do was laugh at the irony and our lack of preparedness. We continued onward [we had no other choice]. If we slowed down for one second, the mosquitoes would attack. If we tried to hurry, we’d most likely end up face planting in the mud. Neither of those things sounded like fun. So we walked… until we reached dry ground. Ah, relief. Dirt - stability in its finest form. We meandered again through the trees and ultimately found ourselves back at our starting point, the car, where we were once again greeted by obnoxious hiker blaring his obnoxious country music.
We loaded our stuff in the trunk and proceeded to drive away from the parking lot, but as we started to reverse, creepy obnoxious hiker man tapped on the driver’s side window. Oh Lord, I prayed, please don’t let him try to kill us. There is no one around to see us. No one will notice we are missing for hours.
“Your trunk’s open,” he smiled as if he were really trying to say something else. I hopped out of the car and shut the trunk and hiker man came around the back of our car. “Eh, you got a lighter or a match or something I can use?” Something you can use for what, I’m thinking. “Nope, sorry.” And that was that.
