Return from the wilderness

Just a few hours ago, I returned from our new house on the Trinity River after a long Memorial Day weekend of kayaking, fishing, eating and drinking. Because my parents had described the house as a "cabin," I didn't expect it to be as large as it was. In fact, given their past frugalness, I expected little more than a one room shack. Fortunately, I was pleasantly surprised by reality.

For California standards, the house is fairly small, but for New York standards, it's positively gigantic. There are only two bedrooms and one bathroom, but the spacious living room and kitchen area make up for those shortcomings, and six lived comfortably for the three days within it's confines. Because of the commotion in and around the kitchen, sleeping in the corner of the common room did force some unpleasant early morning rises, however..

The real attraction of the having a place in the woods is, of course, the woods. And the river. And the mountains. And all that nature stuff that I was familiar with before moving to NYC. While access to some of the best bars, clubs, and restaurants seems to be all that a young person could ask for, kayaking in your backyard has a certain appeal to it.

Nature, however, is not as forgiving as I remembered. On Sunday, I had the misfortune of fishing in the freezing cold Trinity River in shorts and a fleece jacket. Worst of all, to get to the huge steelhead in the river, I had to traverse an unfriendly patch of blackberry bushes, the thorns of which tore my legs to shreds below the knees. The intense physical pain mixed with the frigid water conditions did not put me in the mood conducive to successful fishing, and before long (~30 minutes), I retired to the side of the road to warm up and take a nap, dreams of Gray's Papaya hotdogs dancing in my head.