The meadow immediately below the level of Yellow Pine campground.
LilaBiene and I on safari for the little three: cigaret butts, bathroom tissue, and plastic wrappers.
I was not yet in true trash-seeking mode, but the corner of my good eye detected something foreign in a pink way. "Ho-man, Odd." "What, Mouse?"
"Ho-man, Odd." "Oh, man, I heard ya say Oh."
A pink string, not a thread, not a rope, a string, pink in color, lay there exposed. Man-o-man, was it ever exposed!?
And I thought, as I usually do, briefly, because that's how the thought process works, for most of us, anyway, is this the first litter that I am to pick up? A pink goddam string, knotted at each end, loosely, and with fuzzy pink strands extending out a good two inches. But I wasn't bitter, just don't like loose ends, so I flamed it with a Bic lighter and secured the knots and said, "Odd, on belay, I'm climbing."
"On belay. Climb." And she didn't need to shout. It was a quiet day there on the banks of the meadow. We launched our safari into the sorrel and the rank grasses and eventually forded the river. But that's another thread in the rope that's the cable that came to tell you you're gonna
best use the thread to impress the ladies.
I am not Johnny Cash, but the ladies who "pulled that twine," this is for y'all. It enhanced my experience at the Lift. I hope it did likewise. Add in the fun flirty factor and the first facelift quasi-artifact I found and I find no flaw in my flim-flammery. Especially the shuttle bussing Carol. The Lucky...others. See you next fall?
Vegas Climber: What are the odds? Maybe Five-Seven? Let's go to the coffee shop.