The Danger Between Horses and Rock-hopping


The sun broke through today and held its own for the majority of the time, at least long enough for Kyle and me to have a grand adventure between Crescent City and the town of Orick. That is where our travels started.

We happened upon a large herd of elk as they grazed and rested in an open field beside Highway 101.  I have always found it mighty strange how as a young man when hunting these creatures to put meat on the table, they were the most difficult animal to find, yet they know where protected ground is located.

That aside, I have always considered the elk to be a rather majestic looking beast, so I could not help myself when I saw them. I had to turn the pick-up around so Kyle could practice his photography for his upcoming Boy Scout merit badge.

I also had to play shutter-bug myself.

While I was working to create the perfect framing of two elk that I had selected to digitize, I suddenly heard my son’s panic voice calling to me, “Dad! Dad, help!”

I quickly looked over in his direction. There I found him in a frantic tug-of-war with a teenaged pony, which had a firm grip on his crotch. The horse was attempting to drag my kid through the barbed wire fence.

Luckily, the shorts Kyle was wearing were very loose in that region; else he would have been neutered for certain.

After racing over to save him by smacking the deranged pony in the beak, I could not help but laugh until I had to go pee. This was topped off by the fact that poor Kyle had to go behind a row of blackberry bushes to make certain everything was still attached.

It was.

We also did some beach combing. Kyle being a native-born son of Nevada has never grown tired of the ocean, even though it tried to kill him at Trinidad back in 2002 when a rogue wave caught him off guard.

This time we hung out at DeMartin’s Beach.

It was there that I discovered that I should have stayed in bed after all. Thank goodness for Kyle’s courage though because without it I’d still be sitting where I fell, sucking wind.

I made the giant boo-boo’ s of all boo-boo’s while ‘rock­ hopping.’  I looked up without looking to see where I was stepping.

And where I was stepping was a slope and nothing but air.  That led to a five and a half-foot fall, where I smashed my ribs into a rock and found it hard to take a deep breath.

When Kyle found me, I was still sitting there, shaking.

He helped me get up and climb back up on the rocks and towards the pick-up. He also made me laugh at myself, calling me, “Martini, shaken’ and not stirred.”

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