A handful of the South Bay Hiking Elite, as Tom Mangan dubs them, met before dawn this morning to climb the steep and windswept slopes of Mission Peak, which crowns the hills east of Fremont, California. I would have been there with that crew, laboring up that @#$&! hill, if I hadn’t woken up coughing, assaulted by some sort of scurrilous *$&%#!! bug.
Ah, ’tis the season for health-zapping peskies, and I s’pose I’m duly taking my turn.
Some kind of hiking blogger I am. I guess I’m not nearly so elite as I want to be. But I didn’t feel like sharing my malady with the hardy hillclimbing lot (nor with my mother at Thanksgiving dinner this evening), so I stayed snug and cozy under a wad of blankets while the Intrepid Elite walked tall in the morning twilight.
Maybe “walked” isn’t the right word. Nobody just “walks” up Mission Peak. Well, except perhaps for that young feller John Fedak. But I’ll let Tom tell the story in yet another of his trademark photoessays.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.