Hippies and. . .Day 5

Day 5.

Rest day (kind of)! With rain/snow in the forecast and poor visibility we discussed the day’s plans over breakfast in the lodge. I told Todd I was going to take it easy and just tour the surroundings. I think he was feeling a little battered himself so we headed to the mountaineering shop for another guide book. Bishop, CA isn’t too far from Mammoth and I’d heard good things about it. It didn’t really live up the hype but we did manage to get in a damp hike through some of the best bouldering country around. Todd picked up a rather impressive bouldering guide book for Bishop and it directed us to. . .Happy Boulders. How can you go wrong with a place called Happy Boulders. The guide book claimed it was situated in a rain shadow but even rain shadows get damp every once in a while. We hiked around a ravine filled with a variety of different rock formations. Todd got onto a couple problems but the moist conditions and lack of chalk didn’t help his cause.

On our way back to Mammoth we made a stop off at the infamous Crab Cooker for another toasty bath. Like the previous two nights, the tub was occupied when we arrived. Todd and I decided to check out some of the other water features in the area to see if any were batheable. The funny thing about hot springs is that it can be tough to tell just how hot they are. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, all the springs we dipped out fingers into were too cold for bathing. When we got back to the truck it looked like the current tub occupants were going to be around a while. I pulled out the monocular to see what kind of situation we were looking at. After brief deliberation, we decided we’d join the three topless ladies (even through a monocular one of them appeard to be a dude). A very difficult decision, I know. The ladies were happy to have us join them and they were quite the social locals. We shared some stories about our recent adventures and got some intel on what the hot spots were in town. While we were in the tub the snow really started falling, big juicy flakes. We all just tilted our heads back and watched as the snow would drift down and onto our faces. In my own words, “This is like an acid trip gone right.” The experience was pretty fantastic, something I hope to have again before I leave this place. The ladies left and we stuck around for another hour or so.

Todd and I toweled off and ventured back into Mammoth for some dinner. We found ourselves at a Thai place, apparently just under the restaurant where one of our tubmates tended bar. Dinner was good and spicy. Nothing a few pints couldn’t remedy. We took the advice of our tubmates and wandered over to a place called the Clocktower, or Watchtower or something like that. It was a bar in the basement of some German looking restaurant. This is where the night got interesting. We were greeted by a friendly dog of some sort. The bar was empty minus a couple picking out tunes on the jukebox and two, what seemed to be, resort employees discussing whatever ski folk discuss. Todd and I ponied up to the bar and ordered some pints of Oregon’s Dead Guy Ale. I dumped a few quarters into the Golden Tee game while Todd made his daily call home to check-in on the wifey and developing lass. A few games of foosball were followed by some pool. The bar started to acquire some birthday party folk and before we knew it we were packed into the back of the bar chatting with some of the birthday crew. Todd being the ever-so attentive big brother to his not-so attentive little brother’s single nature, asked the birthday boy, Brian, if there were any single ladies who would be interested in playing pool. Brian responded quite quickly with a shout to “Caroline.” “You have to meet Caroline,” he says, “ She smells like Kama Sutra.” Neither of us knew what to think about this statement. Was it a compliment or a warning? Caroline and Brian joined us for another game of pool. Caroline seemed like a cool bird, slightly older (born in ’69), but cool nonetheless. We continued chatting through the evening; discussing everything from healthcare to literature. I kept the conversation up while Todd poached beers off other people’s pitchers. It was looking more and more like we may have a warm house and soft sofa to crash on for the night. Things ended up not working out that way but it was really no loss; who knows what kind of sacrifices I would have had to make just to have a warm place to sleep.

As we parted ways with Caroline and the birthday folk we crossed paths with a drunk “hippy” in the parking lot of the bar. He was looking for a ride back to his place. In typical Todd and Scott fashion (shades of the hippy dude we picked up in Mexico) we offered the cat a ride. About 2 minutes into our travels uphill we discovered we would have been better off letting him bum a ride elsewhere. The guy started talking about his “fat” girlfriend, who keeps him warm in the winter. She apparently sent him a text insisting that he stop contacting her, they’re in love. At this point he had yet to tell us where he lived. The “hippy” went on to tell us more benefits of his fat girlfriend, I’ll spare you the details, some because I have no clue what he was even talking about. Similar to our hitchhiker in Mexico, it was time to ditch the dude.

I wasn’t aware but Todd already had an exit plan on his mind. The truck took a turn into a cul-de-sac, moved on through someone’s driveway and into their backyard. Todd claims he thought the yard was an extension of the driveway. An easy mistake to make when everything is covered in snow. The Yota didn’t like the soft soil/snow combination and refused to move. The “hippy” and I got out to push. Just as the truck broke free I attempted to jump into the truck so we could execute the “ditch the hippy” strategy Todd had planned. On my way back into the truck the door struck the back stairs of the empty house’s deck. The door bent in the wrong direction and made an uncomfortable noise. Now with the passenger door lodged on the deck stairs, the truck had new difficulties. It took a few swift kicks and a lot of laughter but the truck door was eventually dislodged from the stairs. The newly freed Yota rolled back toward the neighboring house and nearly crushed me against the back corner of the house. Thankfully, all those years of ninja training paid off because I was able to squeeze out of the way just in time. Todd muscled, as much as you can muscle a 4 cylinder, out of the hole and onto the roadway. I briskly jogged to the truck, held the door shut and we were off. . .sans hippy. Before you pass judgment. . .just know that this “hippy” was saying some pretty offensive things, particularly about women, more specifically about his fat girlfriend and wife (two different ladies). We did what we had to do out of respect for all of womankind (come on. . .you have to give me credit for trying). I decided that since we had told the hippy about our sleeping accommodations, that we should probably find a different place to park the truck for the evening. On our way back to the new crash spot, Todd pulled off into a parking lot so we could kick the passenger door into a more favorable position. . .closed. We really weren’t trying to embark on a two day drive back to Portland with the navigator also being responsible for keeping the door closed. A swift kick to the door panel and we were back in business. Todd found a nice flat spot in the Mammoth hotel parking lot and it was off into a giggle filled slumber for the two of us.