It's not a forced march, it's F-U-N!?

I don't know what's got her so riled up, (hole in the ozone? polar ice caps melting? the cost of gasoline?) but for some reason, Mother Nature treated us to a major temper tantrum yesterday. First there was the blazing heat, with moist, uncomfortable high temperatures in the upper 90s and "(Dis)Comfort Index" numbers around 105 or so. (I love it when they tell us that, don't you? Makes it that much more disgusting...) Then around 10:30 p.m. or so, ferocious winds started whipping through the trees, accompanied by deep, rumbling thunder and frequent flashes of lightning. After this exciting prelude, torrents of driving rain began sheeting across the landscape, creating instant rivers that flowed freely through the yards and down our street. Our electricity flickered repeatedly, but gamely remained operational throughout the storm (and let me pause a moment to once again express gratitude for that most amazing of inventions: buried power lines). Naturally, the children slept right through all this and were thus astonished to survey the aftermath when they woke up this morning.

And just what kind of effects did this potent thunderstorm leave in its wake? In our neighborhood, the damage was minimal: heaps of downed branches, a few cracked trees. Across the county, though, 2/3 of the residents had lost their electricity, numerous roads were closed due to fallen-tree blockages, and all of us were under "Mandatory Restrictions" until power could be restored to a large pumping station that supplies the bulk of water to our area. To make matters worse, the rainfall did nothing to staunch the record-breaking heat, which was expected to drive thermometers over 100 degrees today. (With the Heat + Humidity adding up to...I just don't even wanna know...what does it matter once you reach triple digits, anyway? They should just call it..."sticky and stifling" and leave it at that. Because trust me, we don't enjoy that Southwest phenomenon of "dry heat" in the good old Mid-Atlantic region...)

With all this in mind, Husband and I both had the same idea--to go for an early hike, somewhere very shady, before it got too hot to breathe. Thinking that our usual preferred, nearby trails might be muddy and/or impassable after last night's deluge, I voted for a paved option. So after our coffee and light breakfast, we aimed for a local lake to take a nice, easy Nature Walk. As we left our own neighborhood, we noticed more evidence of Weather Gone Wild--stoplights darkened, fences toppled, trees broken, shingles stripped. And when we reached the park...both the entrance road and the trailhead were barricaded. (Probably should have seen that coming, huh?) Okay, we're nothing if not resourceful...here comes Plan B. We turned the car around to go to another lake close by--and found that street taken over by construction equipment, as workers prepared to remove an enormous--yes, you guessed it--TREE stretching across the entire roadway. But were we defeated? Were we discouraged? In the face of such odds, (and most likely signs that we should be rational and just go home, for crying out loud) we resolutely, doggedly (foolishly) formulated Plan C...or D, at this point, I don't even know...whatever, the point is: we refused to give up!

So, one last-ditch attempt brought us to a Nature Center...where the access road was...what? Yes, closed due to yet another tree casualty. However, we were able to at least reach a parking area and get to the woods on foot. Success! We quickly discovered that the trail itself resembled less of a groomed path, and more of a...tangled maze of shredded vegetation and mucky puddles. Yaaaay! But we were determined to have a Pleasant. Family. Hike, gosh darn it! So we proceeded to scramble over twisted piles of tree limbs and tiptoe around the deepest mud pits. And when necessary based on unscaleable mounds of debris, we abandoned the marked route entirely for a span, in order to plow through aggressively overgrown bramble bushes before rejoining the more sedate walking trail. All the while, we did manage to enjoy our Team WestEnders bonding time. And thanks to our new GPS watch, we found out that our little stroll in the woods measured 4.6 miles, completed in about 2 hours. Better yet, even the smallest of us (that would still be Riley, for now) suffered no difficulty whatsoever in completing the workout, or keeping up with the pace.

What's the takeaway lesson from Storm Walk 2012? (You mean, besides the glaringly obvious fact that venturing into the forest after near-hurricane-strength winds might not be the most brilliant of notions?) We now can feel confident that for the remainder of this Summer, no 5-mile trek is beyond our reach. We can search parks and trails all over our area and know that--given enough water and a granola bar or two--we can conquer whatever the Great Outdoors throws in our direction...even if we have to resort to Plan...Z...