Lost In Conversation

Articles

Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

Lost In Conversation
Apr. 22, 2003

“You ok?” She called back.

“Just fine.” Someone else called forward.

I turned around. Oh great. Another show off. I stepped off the trail and let a seventy year old jogger pass me.

“Hey, Shirley.” I called ahead. “I am having a burst of energy. Think I’m gonna sprint a bit.”

“What?” She said turning around in time to see the bald, almost naked guy pass her by. “OHMYGOD! I thought that was you!” She laughed, as he jogged past.

“Yeah. Like skimpy shorts are all I need out in the woods.” I said, guzzling water.

She stopped to drink more water, too. “He didn’t even have a bottle of water on him.” She said, wrinkling her brow.

“Maybe he’ll get home before he needs a sip. He’s running pretty fast.”

“How can he run without water?”

“Um. Don’t you wonder how he can even RUN up this hill?”

We were about ten miles outside of Boulder, Colorado hiking on a beautiful seventy degree day. There were very few people around, so we were enjoying having the mountain mostly to ourselves. Shirley was considering new career possibilities.

“You know what I really want to do?” She asked.

“Eat lunch?”

“No. I mean with my life. I think that I would like to lead hiking expeditions.” She said, thoughtfully.

“Um, Shirley, you don’t mean in these mountains?”

“Yeah. The Flatirons. Imagine doing this every day for money.”

“You know. I want to be supportive. But. Aren’t you known for getting lost up here?”

“Yeah. But only with you. And only because you never stop talking.”

See. Shirley and I are known for getting so lost in conversations, that we lose site of everything else, like the trails we are supposed to be following.

“So the time we were hiking around the Boulder Reservoir and got lost and stuck in thigh high mud and had to claw our way out?”

“That wasn’t my fault. You were talking too much. We did, eventually find our way.”

“Ok. Then the time we kept hiking around and around in mile long circles. We kept passing that dog…”

“Good thing that map was right there in the circle. If only we knew how to read maps better.” She said.

“Yeah. I’m thinking that leading hiking expeditions might not be your best career choice.”

We hiked on enjoying the trickle of the mountain stream running next to us.

Shirley dropped her backpack on a low, flat boulder. “This is the lunch rock.” She announced. “And that rock over there…” She pointed to a huge, round boulder about twenty yards away. “The bathroom is behind that rock.”

“Great.” I said. “As long as you don’t mix up the two rocks.”

Why is it that food always tastes better up on the mountain? At home my boring lunch would have not interested me at all. Up here it seemed chic.

We were going to turn back after lunch so that we could do some shopping in town after the hike. Yeah. I know. Could there be a more perfect day? A little hike to whet our appetite for shopping. I know. We would be all warmed up for the Pearl Street Mall.

We had one never ending conversation that lasted all the way down the mountain. “Hey.” She said. “Next time, let’s hike strait to Boulder.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea for me.” I said. “You know. I am on those meds. I am not really supposed to do too much.”

“It is only like fifteen miles there and back.” She said. “That wouldn’t be too far.”

“Um. When the doctor says don’t over exert, I imagine that that means anything over, say, five miles.”

We got out of the clearing where the car should have been parked, and Shirley collapsed into laughter. “That house. That house. That house shouldn’t be there.” She spurted out.

“So what.” I said, unimpressed. “So. Someone built a house.”

“Holly. You’re not going to believe this. OHMYGOD. Holly. I think we got lost again.” She was laying on the ground, laughing uncontrollably.

“We got lost? We? How could WE get lost when YOU do this hike every day?”

“We’re in Boulder!” She was laughing so hard that she couldn’t breathe. “Now is your chance to do that Boulder hike! Right now! You don’t have to wait!”

Oh. I know. It was funny. You know, funny in an I’m-going-to-hike-an-extra-ten-miles kind of way.

“Shirley. You know. This means that I will never, ever be a reference for you leading hiking expeditions. You know that, don’t you?” I said, giving in to the giggles.

We turned and faced the mountain.

“Couldn’t we call someone?” I asked. “Maybe Darlin-man could save us.”

“Do you have your cell?”

The giggles totally took over any semblance of speech patterns we attempted.

“I can’t believe you’re going to make me climb this thing twice in one day.”

“You can do it.” She said. “I wonder where the car is.” She started surveying the mountains trying to get her bearings.

“I’m not sure, but I’m hoping it’s where we left it. If you don’t think it is, I’m not going back.”

About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

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