Reckless Endangerment.

Awesome hike yesterday. By my pedometer's count, we did more than 5 miles. I went through 5 rolls of 35mm film (4 colour, 3 black & white). Many lovely photos of the foliage and the castles. I'm taking them to get developed today, so I should have them back by the weekend, and my lazy arse will have them uploaded onto the website by sometime in 2012. 


Just kidding. :D Imma get the peeps at Bergen County Camera to put all the photos on a CD, which will save me several hours of scanning and fixing. 


My tree that I planned on climbing is no more. It would appear that he has fallen down. 

There he was--dead and petrified and super creepy, standing majestically atop the mountain. I had my bungee cord and everything, to get to the first branch (I'm only 5' 1"--I couldn't quite reach it from the ground). I planned on climbing all the way to the top so I could take an awesome photo of the surrounding mountains and valleys from a greater height.


But in the end, it's probably a good thing I did not climb all the way to the top, because there is a large chance that the tree would have toppled, sending me sprawling off the cliff to my death. I'll just add this to the list of things the Almighty has done to intervene with my reckless behavior. There's been several incidents at this point--odd coincidences where random acts of Nature have stopped my adventurous plans. Like that one time we were in Ireland for the summer, and the tide stayed in for like 3 days. I wanted to cross the black sinky sand to go play with the seals at Oileán Rua on the other side of the bay, but in order to do that one must cross a stretch of black sand that is basically quicksand. All the adults present strictly forbid us going anywhere near the sinky sand (HA!). My cousins and I lost many a pair of Wellington boots in that stuff. And I know the guy that lives down there has lost 2 dogs and a donkey. 


Like that scares me? Please. 


But when the tide is in, you can't cross it; as then you would have to deal with deep water, the riptide, and the quicksand. Even I'm not that stupid. But alas, the tide always seemed to be in when I wanted to go there. 


Yeah I was one of those kids that was constantly jumping out of trees, off roofs, down whole flights of stairs, putting myself down the laundry chute, wandering off into the woods alone, playing with explosives (I <3 fire), doing ridiculous stunts on my bike.... the list goes on and on, and yet I managed to never hurt myself. The odd scrape or bruise or bump on the head, but that was it. And apparently at a very young age, I stopped crying when I got hurt (like 7 or 8?). Mum suspects lingering damage from one of the many times I hit my head off the concrete. I was That Kid that the other kids weren't allowed to play with. I have a total disregard for safety. Sure it makes me look fearless at times, but in general it's just reckless. I wouldn't call it bravery so much as irresponsible impulsiveness.


:D


So just to clarify--because I think I confused some of you with the last post--I no longer live in that house. I've lived in New Jersey pretty much my whole life. That's the house in County Mayo where Mum grew up, where I began life, and where we stayed 2 or 3 times a year while I was growing up (Christmas, summer, and Easter). Mum hated when I was off school, so she used to pack me off to Granny's house every June and then come get me just before school started in September. 'Twas AWESOME--3 whole months every year with zero parental supervision, and limitless wide open spaces to explore. I'll have to dig out more photos and post them in the gallery...


I'm off to read your blogs and then work out. How a lovely day, my girlies!! (Or night, if you're on the flipside of the world!)
xoxo