1. We were not the only campers with the audacity to camp on the porch of a closed down youth hostel in silent protest. There were two other tents on the other side of the building.
2. Our youth hostel (because we've taken it captive) looked like this (notice our pitched tent):
It's funny because on the internet it said that it was supposed to look like this:
3. I am pretty sure I saw blue sky. I didn't want to mention it out loud or else I might jinx our day.
Upon further walking down the way a bit I noticed that there was a sign which we hadn't bothered to read the night prior.
NO UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY. Awesome.We quickly ate our oatmeal and Sean expressed his need to drop some potatoes in the stew. Yes, lovely. He trod off to find himself a secluded spot in which to dig a pit of at least 6" (or 15.24 cm, depending if you're a communist or not) and relieve himself.
"Don't crap yourself," I yelled.
In return I just got the Chitwood scowl face. Fine. I was just trying to give some friendly advice when pooping in the woods. I spent the next few minutes getting my gear together when Sean came back. He returned with a triumphant smile. It looked like he had just killed an elephant with a musket. Sean started to gather his gear when all of a sudden he got this puzzled look on his face. This was followed by constant sniffing as if to insinuate that I, Rod Miller the invincible, had just crapped myself. The opposite was true.
Sean wiping up his pride.
What followed this morning were some of the most beautiful landscapes we would see during our trip.
It proved to be a sunny morning. Cold, but at least it wasn't raining like it had been the day before. The clouds moved in and out but never threatened any rain. That's when we ran into a certain landmark that might have proved useful the night before.
Ah yes, the Rowardennan Youth Hostel. And it looked to be breaking the law by being open before April 1st. Just our luck. I fully blame Sean and nobody else.
We continued our march when a tree offered to take our photo. We didn't really run into many people while on the remote parts of the trail. That being said, there are very few pictures of us both.
Don't listen to what anyone says, especially an indigenous conifer. They lie. Trees are no good at taking pictures.
There were tons of waterfalls all over the place. The tree decided it would be good to have that in the background. Sean also felt compelled to tell about waterfalls.
As I mentioned we found a lot of random trash along the way. We have reason to believe that, not only was this an old railway or military path, but also an extreme biking trail in the 80's. Here's undeniable proof.
It started getting warm so Sean decided it was time to stop and think if a change in clothing would be appropriate. Here's a picture of him doing so:
I'm an idiot.
After some quiet reflection this is what I saw...
Shazaaam! Sean usually hikes in board shorts.
It's the California in him...or the gayness.
"Don't crap yourself," I yelled.
In return I just got the Chitwood scowl face. Fine. I was just trying to give some friendly advice when pooping in the woods. I spent the next few minutes getting my gear together when Sean came back. He returned with a triumphant smile. It looked like he had just killed an elephant with a musket. Sean started to gather his gear when all of a sudden he got this puzzled look on his face. This was followed by constant sniffing as if to insinuate that I, Rod Miller the invincible, had just crapped myself. The opposite was true.
Sean wiping up his pride.What followed this morning were some of the most beautiful landscapes we would see during our trip.
It proved to be a sunny morning. Cold, but at least it wasn't raining like it had been the day before. The clouds moved in and out but never threatened any rain. That's when we ran into a certain landmark that might have proved useful the night before.
Ah yes, the Rowardennan Youth Hostel. And it looked to be breaking the law by being open before April 1st. Just our luck. I fully blame Sean and nobody else.
We continued our march when a tree offered to take our photo. We didn't really run into many people while on the remote parts of the trail. That being said, there are very few pictures of us both.
Don't listen to what anyone says, especially an indigenous conifer. They lie. Trees are no good at taking pictures.As I mentioned we found a lot of random trash along the way. We have reason to believe that, not only was this an old railway or military path, but also an extreme biking trail in the 80's. Here's undeniable proof.
It started getting warm so Sean decided it was time to stop and think if a change in clothing would be appropriate. Here's a picture of him doing so:
I'm an idiot.
After some quiet reflection this is what I saw...
Shazaaam! Sean usually hikes in board shorts.It's the California in him...or the gayness.
Some more scenery with non-funny commentary (or more pictures at the request of Chris):
This is an official WHW marking post. The symbol is a thistle.
In honor of Comer, may I present a Comer Estate.
We finally made it to Inversnaid. The only thing we could really tell was the whole town consisted of a few houses and this ridiculous hotel. It was a really nice looking hotel surrounded by waterfalls and the lake. For goodness sake, the hotel had their own boat!
We decided we should eat stuff and rest for a few minutes. It was our half way point to our final destination for the day, Beinglas Farm near Inverarnan. We checked our water reservoirs and noticed they were pretty empty. Sean and I both looked around for a spigot but to no avail. Sean then had a stroke of brilliance.
"I'll just go in and ask where we can fill up."
"Uhm...looking like that?" I asked.
"Yeaaaah. Maybe you should go in, Rod."
I left my pack OUTSIDE with Sean and went in. There I found a friendly employee that directed me towards the place where I could fill up my reservoirs. The bar. Really?
I was greeted at the bar by this woman:
She greeted me with an un-Scottish accent.
"How can I help you?"
"I was wondering if you could fill these up for me," I said while holding up my two empty water reservoirs
"...with water?" She asked.
"Yeah, or lager. Whatever is free!"
No laugh, no smile, nothing.
"I am from Hungary."
I see, I said to myself. This explains her immunity to humor. She took my reservoirs and filled them up. I tried to make her laugh again.
"I once knew a man from Hungary. He made me Mexican food and was angry all the time."
Still nothing. The story was true, however. There's a Hungarian man in Phoenix that runs a Mexican "restaurant" in a very angry manner. I thought I was going to have to do dishes because the tip I left was insufficient. I believe the place is called Dina's. I used to work near there when I made architectural models. The place is lovely. It's surrounded by industrial buildings and strip clubs.
I then mentioned something to her that I would regret at the end of the trip.
"Can you please make sure those lids are on tight? If not, water will go all over the place."
I didn't realize what I had just done. I had just asked a Hungarian woman to make sure something was on tight. By the way, I lied earlier, the woman actually looked like this:
I'm pretty sure that I don't have fingerprints left after taking the lids off of our reservoirs at the end of the trip. I thanked the Hungarian "woman" and left the building.
There stood Sean and his board shorts. We decided to rest for a few minutes because we were pretty sore by this point. This is where a challenge was made. I told Sean he needed to talk to any people we saw in a Southern accent. He also needed to include something of a "Yeehaw" or something similar by the end of the conversation. All this had to be done without laughing. Sounds retarded, I know. See what happens when you don't have any human contact besides Sean in 3 days?
I'll leave the next bit for Part 2. That way I can start the next entry on a good note.
This is an official WHW marking post. The symbol is a thistle.
In honor of Comer, may I present a Comer Estate.
We finally made it to Inversnaid. The only thing we could really tell was the whole town consisted of a few houses and this ridiculous hotel. It was a really nice looking hotel surrounded by waterfalls and the lake. For goodness sake, the hotel had their own boat!
We decided we should eat stuff and rest for a few minutes. It was our half way point to our final destination for the day, Beinglas Farm near Inverarnan. We checked our water reservoirs and noticed they were pretty empty. Sean and I both looked around for a spigot but to no avail. Sean then had a stroke of brilliance.
"I'll just go in and ask where we can fill up."
"Uhm...looking like that?" I asked.
"Yeaaaah. Maybe you should go in, Rod."
I left my pack OUTSIDE with Sean and went in. There I found a friendly employee that directed me towards the place where I could fill up my reservoirs. The bar. Really?
I was greeted at the bar by this woman:
She greeted me with an un-Scottish accent.
"How can I help you?"
"I was wondering if you could fill these up for me," I said while holding up my two empty water reservoirs
"...with water?" She asked.
"Yeah, or lager. Whatever is free!"
No laugh, no smile, nothing.
"I am from Hungary."
I see, I said to myself. This explains her immunity to humor. She took my reservoirs and filled them up. I tried to make her laugh again.
"I once knew a man from Hungary. He made me Mexican food and was angry all the time."
Still nothing. The story was true, however. There's a Hungarian man in Phoenix that runs a Mexican "restaurant" in a very angry manner. I thought I was going to have to do dishes because the tip I left was insufficient. I believe the place is called Dina's. I used to work near there when I made architectural models. The place is lovely. It's surrounded by industrial buildings and strip clubs.
I then mentioned something to her that I would regret at the end of the trip.
"Can you please make sure those lids are on tight? If not, water will go all over the place."
I didn't realize what I had just done. I had just asked a Hungarian woman to make sure something was on tight. By the way, I lied earlier, the woman actually looked like this:
I'm pretty sure that I don't have fingerprints left after taking the lids off of our reservoirs at the end of the trip. I thanked the Hungarian "woman" and left the building.
There stood Sean and his board shorts. We decided to rest for a few minutes because we were pretty sore by this point. This is where a challenge was made. I told Sean he needed to talk to any people we saw in a Southern accent. He also needed to include something of a "Yeehaw" or something similar by the end of the conversation. All this had to be done without laughing. Sounds retarded, I know. See what happens when you don't have any human contact besides Sean in 3 days?
I'll leave the next bit for Part 2. That way I can start the next entry on a good note.
No comments:
Post a Comment