Hells Bells

As Craig Ferguson says every night, "What did we learn tonight?" Well, yesterday I learned a few things. We took off early for a hike up Bells Canyon. We have hiked it several times before up to the waterfall(the one we thought was the upper waterfall). It was a pretty strenuous hike and we would pat ourselves on the back for completing it. This time our destination would be the upper reservoir which we thought would be "just a little bit further up the trail". We got to the waterfall and hung out for awhile enjoying the cool mist created by the crashing water. We then decided to push on. And push on and push on. The trail was steep and rocky and seemingly had no end, sort of like the universe. When the trail finally flattened out a little we encountered another waterfall(the actual upper waterfall). I remembered the guide book saying that there was a bridge across the stream. I looked back at the roaring stream and saw something. It would hardly qualify as a bridge. It was two logs tied together with thin nylon rope and with pieces of 2 x 4s nailed into them. It was not a bridge, it was a death trap. I immediately had visions of Diane's precarious adventure with a log on the Subway trip last year. I decided to go first and rather than walk across this "bridge", I chose to walk on the rocks and logs beneath it and use the "bridge" for balance and security. I got about halfway across and put my foot on a log to discover that it was quite slippery and I had to hold onto the bridge to keep from slipping. Watching me do this only made Diane more nervous when it came to her time to get across. In retrospect, this would have been a good place to turn around. Boy, hindsight sure is 20/20. Well, Diane made it across and we now looked for the trail. Shortly after finding it, it led us through a dense maze of overgrown ferns and other vegetation. It was difficult to find and follow the trail and we wondered at times if we were still on the trail. It was akin to a jungle. We hiked for about 40 more minutes and had taken several side trips that turned out to be dead ends. That was enough for Diane. We were scratched, bruised, bug bitten, tired, and out of patience. As we started back down, I told Diane that I thought I could see the actual trail(this was about the tenth time I had said that). She gave me the look and I decided to head on down. We negotiated the stream crossing without any trouble. Now we had the long hike down. Even though hiking down is easier on your breathing, it still taxes your legs and feet. It also seems to take such a long time to get down. We got to the first waterfall and kept on going. We were now seeing lots of people coming up, all asking how much further. I tried to give them a reasonable estimate of time so as to not discourage them but also not make them despair. One particularly colorful gentleman wearing a cowboy hat and big belt buckle asked how much further. He asked, is it about another "hoot and a holler". It was about 3 hoots and 4 hollers, I told him. We left the coolness of the stream and hiked out into the hot sunlight and finished the last stretch to the car before our tanks ran completely dry. We had hiked for over 5 hours and our legs, feet, and general constitution really felt it. I vowed to make it to the upper reservoir before the summer is out. After all, the fishing up there is supposed to be really good.