Lake Margaret, W of Tahoe (Click to enlarge) On this hike, someone turned a trail marker the wrong way at a juncture, and I was lost for an hour or so. An old woman and a six-year-old girl, trusting the marker, also wandered off the wrong way. They were lost for six days.
The old woman recalled that when lost she should follow a stream and eventually find civilization. So she and her grand-daughter followed a stream for six days. Someone's prank could have killed them. I'll leave it to the reader to apply adjectives to the terrorist who sabotaged the trail marker. (I think I'm not off-topic.)
The lake was serene and beautiful and warm.
Next day, you could find yourself waist-deep in wildflowers if you didn't watch it. This is rugged, manly work, and you have to watch for wildflowers - or they'll melt your masculinity like a furnace and turn you into a gushing nature aesthete. So you have to be real careful and avoid fleurs. I couldn't do it and turned into a real sissy for 15 minutes or so. But recovered. Close call. Some men are stripped of their masculinity forever. A bald hiker in khaki shorts passed me on the trail and smirked. Caught in the act. Not only was I emasculated, there was a witness. Barely escaped with my manhood intact:
After my perilous encounter with the fleurs, my self-described manhood returned with a climb up Horsetail Falls. Balance was restored. This was even a little risky, and the old adrenalin addiction returned. The wounds to my ego healed. All was well in the end.
