Laura's Birthday

[We interrupt the irregularly scheduled blog entry with this special
report from my little sister Laura, with whom I hiked almost 200 miles
from Elk Lake Resort to Cascade Locks, Oregon. Below is her story,
interspersed by my inappropriate commentary in square brackets]

Last [really, Laura?  "Last"?  You've got to start off this blog with
a hook.  Think about how the greats start their works.  "Call" --
'Moby Dick', or "It" -- 'A Tale of Two Cities'.  But "Last"?  I think
you just lost half my readership] summer [there goes the other half.
Well, at least the pressure is off, now], I was hiking with Rog
[that's Roger Dodger to you] in early August.  When I woke up on the
7th, I went down to the creek to freshen up while Rog [I thought we
went over this, already.  Roger Dodger] was still asleep, and thought
how lucky I was to be in such a beautiful place for my birthday [and
how lucky you were to have me for a brother].

When I returned to camp, I realized Roger had been busy.  He had covered
my backpack in balloons!  He handed me a party hat and kazoo-like
instrument and wished me a happy birthday [Once in a while, I can be a
decent brother. After all, I do have to make up for the rest of the
year.  Which I am starting off well with massacring her writing].  We
had been hiking off trail,
were miles from "civilization," and although no one was around to witness
it, I am certain I appeared absolutely ridiculous [not unlike the
times that you aren't wearing a packful of balloons].  Several lakes,
miles,
hours, and at least one pass later, we ran across of troop of boy scouts
who, upon seeing my get-up, sang me happy birthday.  It was, by far, my
most memorable birthday.

Before joining him on the PCT, Roger promised (*i.e.*, threatened)
[not true.  The real story is that Laura demanded this of me] to beat
last year's surprise.  I thought to myself, "you can try, but good luck. My
27th was the best birthday I've ever had" . . . that is until I turned 28.
 On the night of the 6th, we finished hiking by a sleep-away camp cleverly
named after an adjacent cleverly-named lake, Big Lake [Youth] Camp. That night I
watched one of if not the most magnificent sunsets I have ever seen.  If
you don't believe me, ask the staff at Big Lake [as the staff is
particularly well aware of the litany of your sunset memories].  Even
the counselors who
had been there all summer ran to get their cameras remarking that this type
of light, clouds, and coloring only occurs once or twice a summer. We
cowboy camped [no tent] on a littoral beach, watched a couple shooting
stars [too bad Laura fell asleep five days later at Timberline Lodge,
where I got to witness a meteor shower that had apparently 150
shooting stars per hour.  But if you think that that was the best part
of the evening, you apparently have never had an 8" chocolate chip
cookie baked in a cast-iron skillet topped with vanilla ice cream
while sitting at the base of Mt. Hood, even if you aren't actually
looking at the mountain], and
fell asleep just before midnight.  When I awoke, I went with Kevin, my
backcountry skiing and hiking buddy who had hiked the first couple days
with us, to grab our resupply he had kept in his car.  We chatted and sat
by the lake while [Kevin was desperately trying to kill time on my
behalf, doing everything in his power "Hey Laura, look.  It's Elvis!"]
--unbeknownst to me--my brother executed his scheme [and still it
wasn't long enough].

When we walked back to camp, he was, once again, blowing up my birthday
balloons.  But, this time, with a helium tank!  That's right!  Roger had
just walked 45 miles while covertly carrying a helium tank [Nothing
says "I love you" like strapping on a portable, yet terribly
uncomfortable, bomb and carrying it through the woods for two days].
Kevin and Roger sang me happy birthday [actually, I sang Kevin "Happy
Unbirthday"] and a neighboring camper came over to me, wished me a
happy birthday, and presented me with a bag of skittles [which I
presently stole.  I figured I would get a head start on next year's
big brothering already].  After
eating some carrot cake (Kevin carried that in), opening my
three-by-two-foot hamburger-shaped card ("ideal" for backpacking), and
drinking a beer--all before 7 am--I was ready to hike with thirty balloons
floating above me.  So I started through the trail and "pop," "pop," "pop"!
 Okay, 27. [I never wished so hard that I had darts while hiking
before.  And if Laura thinks she looked foolish last year, this year
put that to shame.]

We ate breakfast at Big Lake Camp and instead of a troop of boy scouts, I
had a room full of campers and counselors singing to me. One of the
counselor's parents donated vats [and vats] of blueberries from their
farm.  So, when
in line for food, the chef piled mounds [and mounds] of blueberries
onto our trays.
After bellies full of berries [don't exaggerate, Laura. My belly is
never full], we were finally ready to hike.  I put on my backpack and
balloons. [Balloons were also tied to her hiking poles]

And, in the midst of those 27 colorful balloons floated a three-foot long
mylar shark with a huge grin and with "Happy Birthday" written across his
body.  As I hiked, he followed me. [and annoyed her as they
continuously got tangled up and in her way.  It was the perfect big
brother gift-something that she absolutely loved, yet at the same
time annoyed the heck out of her]. As the day wore on, Sharkey [that's
Sharkey Malarkey to you] and his
helium-filled entourage deflated.  He came closer.  Instead of resting a
couple feet above me, he was now right behind my head. [and
eventually, ramming his head into her pack]  So, on my birthday, I got
my trail name: ['Weirdo'. But other hikers took pity on me and instead
called me] Sharkbait.

[Laura, I hope you forgive me, the teasing is all done in good fun
{Not a good enough reason, Rojerk}. I'll make it up to you next birthday {darn right you will}.]

— Sharkbait [and Rojerk]