(Trav: I want you to imagine this story in full typical-Kate-ridiculousness… it will add the emphasis it needs that my words just cannot express)
Lately Luke and I have been talking about adventuring. I am always telling him I want to go on an adventure and whether that means to the breakwater to look at the luminescent bacterias (I think?) or check out the lab he works at or go to the lagoon or do iron chef, we like to be creative in our hang out sessions. Recently, I’ve been particularly adamant that while I love watching ‘The Office’, we need to do something cool and adventurous. Enter yesterday. It went something like this:
Luke is an avid fly fisher and since I have a storage unit up in Duncan, it worked well to time my going up for boxes with his need to exercise his passion on the Cowichan River. It was a gorgeous day and since all he really told me was that we would have to walk a little ways through some bush to the river, I wore a t-shirt, capris, sunglasses, and flip flops. I sat on the road while he got ready — his clothing consisted of fishing weighters (I don’t know how to spell it), a fishing vest, toque, boots, gators, and his rod. He said it was his fish slaying vest. I also had my bag (with my novel and juice for us) and Luke’s jacket. My arms were full.
So we get walking on this perimeter-trail-esque terrain when Luke looks back at me and says “Shoot Kater, you might regret what you’re wearing because we have to go off the trail now.” Whatever. I just smiled and said I wasn’t too concerned since it wasn’t going to be very far.
Are you kidding? It turns out the spot that we started and parked was totally wrong (He had only been there once) and for the next hour, we hiked and slid through willows, prickles/thistles, moss, tree trunks, vines, clay, and MUD. Once we had been going for a little while, Luke kept looking back at me asking me if I wanted to turn back. Coupled with the fact that there was no way I would be able to climb all that way back up in my muddy, loose, flipflops, I am a trooper and with a huge smile, I said No! We’re almost there…right? And he’d just grin. I fell about three times before he took everything from me. And I continually fell and got stuck for the entire journey straight down. At one point my whole right leg was stuck in the mud. It was so steep and forest-ish, it was absolutely beyond description hilarious. I haven’t had that much fun in months. He called it a “mud gorge”.
After I decided I would rather sacrifice my feet than fall on my face in the mud anymore, I walked the rest of the way barefoot. BAREFOOT. We came onto this creek where Luke washed my flipflops off (they were covered in so much clay it looked like concrete) and I tried to wash my feet a bit. Once we started going again, I was trying to be a rockstar and I said, as his fishing rod got stuck in a tree-ish, “Luke, can I hold anything?” (He had my shoes and everything else)… he looked up at me with the most awesome smile and said “No Kater, I think you need to focus on holding your own.”
Sooo a couple more falls, giving me a hands up, screeches, laughs, and blood, and asking me if I felt one with nature, we came out and off of the cliff only to see two people walking down a trail. And we just looked at each other and laughed and laughed. He said “Well Kate, you’ve been bugging me for an adventure.” And it was of epic proportions.
The rest of the day was brilliant. Luke fished and after I waded into the river enough to get the worst of the mud off and wounds cleaned, I read on a rock, huddled in his jacket and so impressed with myself. There was fleeting moment where I couldn’t see him anymore in the river and panicked, but just as I was afraid his toque would come floating down without him, I felt a fishing line on my head. The adventure was far from over when we had to walk back, on the road, to his car. I chuckled every time we turned a corner and the car was still not there… we travelled a fair distance on our excursion! He didn’t catch anything, but for the rest of the night, every time we’d look at each other, if we weren’t talking, we just burst out laughing. And he was devastated we didn’t take pictures of how ridiculous I looked and how immaculate he looked… we looked as different as night and day and he was completely unscathed.
After a trip to the storage unit, a dinner at Boston Pizza with jagger bombs to celebrate success, we came back blasting the music and the heat. He called me a warrior. I asked him whether I should paint him as a villain or a hero in this story, and he said it was up to me. He was a rockstar. Team Hardcore — another successful run. And even though he didn’t slay any fish, we totally slayed that forest. And came out smiling in the end. Just awe-some.