Lizards to the Left of Me, Jokers to the Right, Here I am, Stuck in the Middle of Oregon 4-27-08

Never let brand spanking new friends drive you to the trailhead. Don’t do it. If they go schizo on you out there in the woods, you’re trapped in the backseat of Christine with the Joker at the wheel for the return trip. That’s 152 miles of making out your last will and testament while mentally pricing new deadbolts for your front door because now they know where you live. Always drive.

Three years into my Oregon residency, I explored some local hiking clubs. Most were obnoxiously elite and priced accordingly but one hit all my price points: Free. You get what you pay for. Meet up dot com turned out to be the drain hole cover for society, collecting all the repressed introverts, bitter divorcees, and substance abusing hairballs Portland had to offer. But I didn’t figure that out until after the trip to Smith Rock State Park.

The introvert drove. By “drove” I mean she…