Some days are just trail days.

We go to the Pima Canyon trailhead. We’re planning on the National to Mormon Loop. Big fun. But then we arrive and it’s almost like it’s a national holiday or something. It’s like Disneyland except no Mickey Mouse hat. Note to self: Always bring Mickey ears for trail runs.

We go anout a half mile down the trail. Insanity. Families and dogs and kids and Republicans. It’s weird, but it’s not fun. I sing it’s a small world after all on the way back to the car and we make our escape.

A quick stop at REI (when did water bottles start costing 30 bucks?) and Changing Hands (when did art books start costing 25 bucks?) and we head for Mount Ord.

Mount Ord is pretty much the opposite of South Mountain. Desolate, serious elevation. We watch the temp drop on the dashboard as we near. 65, 60, 50, 48. I’m skeptical humans can survive in such extreme weather. We start down the tiny dirt road, left wheels dangling off the edge of the dropoff, and the engine stops for no reason. And not in a good way.

We’ve played the broken down in wilderness game before (see The Great Four Peaks Timing Belt Disaster), so when the engine starts up again we make a run for it. Well, actually we don’t run. I guess we make a drive for it. Whatever.

We get home just as the sun is about to set. I go to the track and shuffle through a mile to salvage the day. “If you can’t fly then run, if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward,” Dr. King said. I’m not sure if he was talking about the Magic Mountain line. I take a fabulous selfie to commemorate the day. Moving forward. Always moving forward.

Five hours for one mile. But the views were spectacular and a reminder of what’s always there around the next turn.

Some days are just trail days. Some are not. On to the next adventure …