A friend and I walked from our Hostel in Ambleside to a restaurant in the nearby town. As we sat outside enjoying the night air, I looked over and saw a rubbish bin billowing smoke. A man with a dog had walked by it earlier and thrown his cigarette inside which subsequently caught it on fire. I quickly ran inside and yelled for the worker behind the bar that there was a fire outside in the rubbish bin. I went back outside to contain it and wait for the worker to come with a bucket of water. I lifted the top to allow him ease in dowsing of the fire. As he went back inside, I contained the fire with the lid. By the time he returned, it was under control and I smiled with my own heroic role in helping the problem.
After everybody calmed down, I went back inside and asked if that had happened before. The guy looked at me and said never. I shook my head and said that a guy with a dog had walked by and caused it by throwing his cigarette in the bin. The worker looked at me with an ugly look and said, "Was it you?" Shocked and incensed, I said emphatically "NO, I do not smoke and would never do such a thing." He obviously did not believe me and ignored me. No good deed goes unpunished.
While in Scotland and after hiking to the quaint town of Glencoe, I decided to do a bit of mountain climbing. But as I went up the mountain, I looked over and saw a ravine asking for me to meet and explore it. So I took off another direction, through the fallen trees, the shrubs, the rocks, and the stream that flowed through it. As I walked and climbed around, I recalled the days when my best friend Gary and I climbed everything we could find. We climbed Guadalupe Peak, hiked McKittrick Canyon, went through the Organ Mountains, explored Cloudcroft and Glorieta, and learned every part of Hueco Tanks that was there. We owned the Franklin Mountains and fished every body of water within 200 miles of El Paso (yes, it was hard to find enough water at times). We were little monkeys back then, hopping around on boulders, around fallen logs, up hills, down valleys. We saved each other's life a couple of times from near falls off peaks into canyons. It was all great fun.
But somehow things have changed, and I am no longer as agile as the old days. I cannot seem to climb as quickly and ducking under limbs has become more difficult. My springy legs and youthful mobility is stodgy without the gumby-like imperviousness to bumps and unusual physical demands. So in my awkwardness and as I attempted to cross the mountain stream by jumping from one log to another, I fell. It was not much of a fall but enough to get very wet and scratched up from the rocks and bushes surrounding the stream. As I laid in the mud slightly bruised, laughing silently, but mostly embarrassed, I wondered if Gary were having similar signs of aging! I got up, climbed around some more, realized it was getting darker, and headed back to our locale. It was an adventure of sorts and I was glad to experience it in spite of my shortcomings.
As we arrived in Ambleside, known as the Lake District, I decided to confine my adventures to what I do best--book scouting. Taking the boat across the extensive lake, I ended up in Bowness. A quick look at the finder, and I headed out to Windemere to the secondhand bookshop. Unfortunately it was an uphill climb of over two miles through a winding road. But I enjoyed my brisk walk and finally arrived at the small store. Book scouting these days is very inconsistent. Most rare books have been discovered and the internet has made pricing too easy by owners. This particular shop was heavy on travel and camping books but light in history and fiction. I did find one rare Dr. Seuss book that I bought. Once again, however, the journey to the shop was greater than the result! A further walk brought me to a bus station where I realized the next bus was an hour later. So I grabbed a cab and returned to the lake for another boat trip back over to Ambleside. All great fun and much less damaging to the body than climbing.
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