If you can't move mountains, climb them.

It's been a solid minute but i am happy to report that i still have a deep love of pushing my fat ass up mountains. i LOVE hiking. Tonight i hiked Jacks Mailbox which is located right above the heart of Highland in East Salt Lake. Which coincedentely is now where i'm planning to live out the majority of my days. So now that that's decided i just need to find some poor old bastard who resides in a foothills neighborhood & wait for his wife to die so i can make my move.

 I'm joking..

theres no way i'm waiting THAT long.

again, i joke. lesbihonest, if theres a member of my family built to dig gold it's Lyv.

most definitely Lyv.

So anyways. Jacks mountain. Sam attempted to hike up it on Sunday, BUT was interupted by me almost dying & sending him an SOS for some extra strength excedrin & a strong dose of sexual healing. JOKE! AGAIN! jeez what is wrong with me. Anyways, back to Jack. I was intrigued. Who is this Jack & why does he have a mountain. Turns out he was Jack Edwards. A todder who passed away from Luekemia in 1995. So in memory of him, his parents placed 2 mailboxes on top of this mountain, & have asked for visitors to take a moment & write a letter or just say hi to 'Jackie Jack'.

I know. So crazy amazing. Utah is the best.

So after reading the backstory on this steep chunk of land i knew i HAD to go. I grab my chiweewee, a bottle of water, & off we went. We got to the trail head around 8:00p. We take off. We go way, out of our way, in the wrong way. No worries though, it looped around. I've found that everytime with hiking, as with the majority of my life, I ALWAYS start everything the wrong way & end up making it way harder than it has to be. And only AFTER i go down my many twisted bass ackwards paths do i see 'oh wait there was a markedly easier way to go about this.' I'm stronger for it, right?

The struggle.

So we're busting up this trail. Summit after summit. As i approach each one my spirits momentarily lifted that this one might house 2 mailboxes thus bringing about an end to my journey. But no, i was mistaken, so i kept on walking.

A few years back my dad put an unGodly fear into me that someday, on one of my solo hike, a cougar would jump out & eat me. On the back sides of these hills there were tall bushes. Perfect for a puma to perch in waiting for a tastey Amy morsel. I was uneasy. So i checked my weather app. Sundown was at 9:00 sharp. It was 8:43. I was going to have to bust my ass to get to the top, say hi to Jack, & barrel back down the mountain before hypothetical mountain cat ate me. I dig my heels in & go.

I was hurting folks. i was hurting BAD. But i had made it that far. No turning back then. I put one begrudgingly foot in front of the other, all the while checking the clock that mercilessly kept counting down. At about 8:55 i begin to panic, but at that point was so tired I was almost hoping a big cat would eat me so i wouldn't have to make the return trip. I'm beginning to think, 'maybe i'm climbing the wrong mountain.' & then i'm irrationally mad at Sam cause 'where the hell are you to make sure i'm not climbing the wrong mountain'. I'm hawking lugi's. i'm blowing snot rockets. i'm panting. my hair looks like it was molested by a family of rabid racoons, & in between yelling profanities that dont even make sense, i'm making unGodly loud animalistic noises.

I'm delerious & decidedly at the end of my rope.

Suddenly i come around the corner & there it was. Jacks Mailboxes. I wasn't climbing the wrong mountain. I didn't require a male travel companion after all. Chalk one up for feminism.

 However what WAS there, along with dos mailboxes, was an exceptionally startled looking stranger. My moment of elation quickly cut short. He smiles & says 'hi', i'm convinced more so not to anger the crazy lady that fate just put in his path.

 i murmur a 'hey' trying to avoid eye contact as i catch my breath & wonder how is it that all of my finest moments are miraculously always witnessed by my fellow man?? Ah such is life. So i take my celebratory Snapchats, fistbump Jacks Buda, & begin my return journey.

I am not good at many things. My skill set is limited. But i am like a mountain goat when it comes to downhills. With my rat dog running beside me i felt like that wolf pack scene in The Jungle Book. The ORIGINAL live one. With the smoking hot Mowgli

Blame it on the endorphins. I felt unstoppable. On the last downhill i make it half way down before i realize i'm sans one Chiweewee. Momentarily debating whether or not to leave him. BUT knowing he can't survive in the wild + no one else who would find him, would keep him, because NO one else likes him. So i go BACK UP & as soon as i get to the top Tibbs cheerfully hops a bush & blows past me. Next time i'm leaving him.

Eventually we make it back to the bottom. Bid a fond Adieu to Jack. And go on our merry way. I'm plum tuckered out. My entire body is sore. BUT i didn't get eaten by a Puma & i already can't wait to do it all over again. Hiking man. Hiking.