Day 40: Behind the Scenes

We’ve frequently been asked if we are actually having a good time. I believe that our friends and family see our posts and wonder: What is it really like? Are they filtering their posts? Do the bad things come out? Are they hiding anything? Do they make up the good stuff?

I’d like to address this issue. First, the great bed bug incident, Day 13, was a total hoax. We just found a look-alike-bug, got Ceri worked up about something Trump said, and then boom, a story in the making. Similarly, the vaseline spill, Day 21,was faked. It was really just water and poor lighting conditions and another Trump-ism. And lastly, that early morning drive after only a few hours of sleep, how do you know it wasn’t just late at night? Or right after sunset for that matter? All the “bad” things that have happened are fabricated. We just throw them in there to make it seem like a real trip. And the good stuff, it’s fake news. FAKE NEWS! What actually happens, the gross, sweaty, yucky mundane stuff that you can only guess at, we will lay bear. You get to see what really happens.

Multipitch Climbing: Peeing, pooping, living is a challenge. Take your life and now tether yourself to a vertical wall. You feel like a dog on a leash or a baby in a harness, except there is no owner or parent to make food or pick up your poop. Instead you’ve got this big granite wall that’s either too cold or too hot, too steep or too ledgy, too sharp or too smooth, to be comfortable. Poop, and it stays in your pants. Ask for a sandwich, and you get a pinecone.

Camping: The only thing worse than Camping 24/7-55 days a year would be 24/7-365. Every day you wake up, pack up your room, do your day, unpack your room, go to bed. After a dirty day with your granite babysitter, you get to go home, pull your kitchen out of a box, cook dinner, then put your kitchen back into a box, put that in a bigger box alongside the box for your living room, bed room, and parlor.

Hair: I will liken hair to the bristle’s of a brush. 10 days without washing, my hair was a soft bristled brush. At that stage I could have sold my mane to a car dealership, for I am sure that they would use it to wax and polish car doors. After about 20 days, my bristle hair reached a point unsuitable for polishing. The stiff strands were more akin to a natural fiber brush, good for light cleaning applications. At day 35 my hair was so stiff that, with great effort, I cut a strand and used it to pick the lock on our car. Looking ahead, I imagine that my hair will be used as a replacement for rebar in poured concrete construction. Renewable and non-toxic.

Ceri: Smelly, dirty, grouchy.

Me: More smelly, more dirty, more grouchy.

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