We got back yesterday from a wonderful, wonderful trip.  We drove in a small caravan with another couple to get to the campsite and there were a few sprinkles but when we made it to Cape Lookout the sun was out, the sky was blue, and the smell of the ocean was everywhere.  I almost cried, to be honest.  It’s been at least 8 years since I’ve camped at the coast and I was feeling the nostalgia pretty intensely.  We got the vehicles unpacked, figured out where the tents were going, set those up, ate a snack, and then Ginger Ninja and I sneaked off to see the ocean.  It was all kinds of perfect.  Saturday morning saw her and me setting off on a hike.  We inquired at the registration station (he he he) and found there was the North Trail, available from the campground, or the Cape Lookout Trail, available from either the end of the North Trail or from the parking lot at the trailhead two and a half miles up the road.  Instead of going back to camp and making one of the boys drive us to the trailhead, we decided, in a bout of ill-fated laziness, to just proceed to the North Trail and take a 10 mile roundtrip hike.  We’re both in decent shape, we had an easy pace that worked for both, we figured we could hack it.  We couldn’t.  The North Trail was gorgeous, lots of flora and lots of good views, but the North Trail also had a lot of switchbacks, you know those things they put in a trail when the ground you’re trying to cover is too steep?  Yes, there were many of those.  Also we had no snacks and only one small bottle of water between us, so when we came across some hikers going the opposite direction, we prevailed upon them for some hope.

us: Hey, is the parking lot up there?

him: Definitely is!

us: Great!  Is there a water spigot up there?

him: Definitely. . . (our hopes soar and all is worth it) . . . not! (our hopes crash and we consider pushing him down the hillside)

us: Well, is there a bathroom up there?

him: Port-o-potties!

us: (seethe)

After that lovely interlude, we walked for another three minutes before rethinking our entire game plan and turning around.  After all, we were the adults!  There were no parents, no trail guide pushing us ever on, we could turn around whenever we wanted!  What followed was a very trip-filled, stumbling, quads-shaking, blood-sugar low, water hoarding trip back down the many much switchbacks to the day use area that, PRAISE JESUS, had water spigots.  Part of what kept us going on the march o’ doom back down was the word spigot, and how funny it was.

We made it, went out for lunch, paid way too much for food I didn’t even want (part of it.  I ordered too much), and Nikolai and I took a nice nap on. . . the ground that was directly located under our sleeping bags.  That night everyone else showed up and there were many s’mores.  The villagers rejoiced.  The next day was another hike, this one with water and snacks.  Then a large cup of tea, and driving across the sand to the North side of the dune at Pacific City to drink juice out of a communal sippy cup and play in the waves.  We made it back around a spit of rock just before high tide came in and stranded us, so that was nice!  We had dinner, and yet more s’mores.  I mean really people, we’re camping here.  There will be copious s’mores.  Finally, Monday, we came home after a visit to the Tillamook Cheese Factory to partake in squeaky cheese and ice cream.  mmmmm squeaky cheese.

It started on the trip home – I couldn’t stop fiddling with the hole in my jeans created by my thighs rubbing together as I wore my jeans all weekend, hiking and gallivanting.  Then I patted my stomach, full of creamy creamy ice cream and squeaky cheese instead of vegetables and and fruit and other healthful things.  Then I felt the smallish overlap of my offending stomach over my offending jeans.  And this morning, I figured I could just not eat ever again because I used up all my food points forever this weekend.  Eating s’mores.  Because my healthy outlook involves not exercising, but just food deprivation.  Fear my mighty intellect!  I ate, don’t fret.