FLUME Mountain #3

On June 17th I met my Dad at the Lincoln Woods Visitor center. We didn’t really plan to meet there, but by coincidence, I saw his car in the parking lot at the same time I was pulling in. My Dad wants to keep hiking but glaucoma has left him with failing vision. He and his wife Chris rode into the lot just as I had, though we planned on meeting later for dinner. That was the In Sync moment number 1.
We all set out for the Lincoln Woods Wilderness Trail at 11:00. I was to head toward Flume Mountain up the Osseo Trail. Though we all set out together, I gained a pace that left my father behind. At 71, he is still hiking in despite some minor challenges. That’s where I want to be in 2036.

I meet several other hikers and overly frisky dogs along the Wilderness Trail. A young guy, his girlfriend and their chocolate lab raced past us on bikes and I catch them later as they descend Flume. The man is hollering and WOOOOP-ing down the trail and I think its coyotes or loons. “I’ll have what he’s on,” I say to his girlfriend, she rolled her eyes with a look that said, “no shit”.

The trip up the Osseo was fairly ubiquitous. Typical forested landscape and nice trail. No one around. Went for a pee off trail in the woods and left the doggy leash by the tree where I took a leak Dammit!

I reached the summit in no time. We stretched at the summit, took some pictures and snacked. A man fell asleep and began snoring loudly. The laughter that followed jolted him wide awake, and he fumbled around with his backpack then left. Though it was late , I thought to race out and snag Liberty. As I contemplated this, a woman, perched out on the ledges of Flume moaned loudly, “Is there any other way down this God forsaken hill?”
A man and his girlfriend, Ed and Miriam, had , quite literally, come up the Flume Slide Trail without a clue. The woman , Miriam, was not in the best of shape. And though I don’t like using the descriptive “ out-of-shape”, Miriam has not seen the inside of a gym in a long time. The boyfriend seemed desperate. “Can’t we get to The Flume parking lot another way, other than going down the Flume Slide Trail again ,or do we have to go back over Mount Liberty?” The woman moaned louder when hearing the mention of climbing another mountain to get to her car. “That’s the only way back, I’m afraid to say.” Again, moaning, “No, No…”
“Which way did you come up?” He asks, and I tell him I came up from Lincoln Woods. “Is it hard?”
“No, but it’s nowhere near the parking lot for Flume.”
“Crap.”

“No, we can’t go back to Liberty, and down that trail, we’ll never make it.”
Moan
The compassionate soul within me takes over and I offer them a ride if they follow me down Osseo Trail. I explain that its not difficult , but slightly long.
“And you’ll give us a ride?” says Miriam. “Yes, I’ll drive you to the Flume lot. I’ve also climbed the Flume Slide. And by the way, you people are idiots. What were you thinking!?”
“We’re from Boston”
“I see.”
En Synco momento numero dos.
We head down together, though within minutes they have trailed far behind me. I mean very far. They are in no rush to get to the bottom. I stop and wait a few times and they still don’t catch up. Maybe they changed their minds and turned around. I see a couple of guys heading up trail and say, “Hey if you see a couple – blonde woman, tall intellectual boyfriend, would you tell them to put a move on? Jeez!”
There is enough time to begin searching for the dog leash . Now where’s that tree? Ruby bounds into the woods after a chipmunk – leading us to the tree with the leash beside it. In sync moment 3.
They finally catch up and apologize, and we maintain an easier pace to the Lincoln Woods Visitor center lot. She is in the field of education. In fact she’s a big wig with the Massachusetts Department of Education. We blast George Bush. I drive them back up Franconia Parkway and they are grateful.
Dad and Chris are staying at the Kancamaugus Motor Lodge on 112. I jump into the pool covered in mud and grime. AH!
Topping off the day – prime rib- at the Common Man. Excellent. Though we can barely read the menus from the 25 watt lamps placed on the table for quaint ambience. The waitress was a lively old gal. I remind Dad that Sunday, tomorrow June 18th, is Father’s Day. Gee, I haven’t had time to go Hallmark card shopping.
“Don’t even fucking go there!”