And a river runs through it

I guess I should write about my weekend/weekbegin. How about in haiku for a change?

Went to a wedding
Someone got married, again
Not enough tables
-
Steadied the ladder
While Chris repaired the porch roof
That guy has nice legs
-
Stayed with my parents
They ask questions; yes Mom, I
know what a ring is
-
Bugs, rain and lightning
Make sleeping a real challenge
So does Jake's snoring

I'm kidding- Jacob only snores a little, and not the painful kind. If it weren't for the bright-as-day strobe of the lightning, the head-rattling thunder and the spray of rain blowing under the edge of the tarp, I wouldn't have been awake to hear anything.

As I mentioned Saturday, Jacob and I went on an overnight trip down the length of the Conasauga River Trail. Other than the violent nighttime weather and Jacob forgetting to take his glasses off before diving into the river, it was an uneventful trip. Well shit, why don't I just show you some pictures?

A rookie backpacker heads downhill through a muggy North Georgia Monday. The Conasauga River Trail follows its namesake for about 13 or 14 miles through the Cohutta Wilderness, the largest wilderness area east of the Mississippi.

A pair of Adidas submerged in the first of 38 river fords.

In Jacob's Land of Bliss and Blisters, everyone remembers to take off their glasses before diving in the water. In the closely-related Land of Absentmindedness, however, they do not. Lucky to have a fully-sighted person along with him, we quickly found the glasses, minus one lens, in four feet of water. Designed for invisibility, lenses tend to camouflage themselves extremely well, and, after about twenty minutes or so of standing in cold, chest-deep water staring at the same spot on the bottom of the river, I finally came up with that wily piece of glass. Would I call myself a hero? Yes. Yes I would.

Try as I might, I cannot get away from these obnoxious pieces of shit we call flowers, spoiling the views wherever I go. The offender on this trip was the Moutain Laurel, littering the landscape with its inconsiderate display.

Panther Creek Falls was a bitch of a side-trip, but well worth the steep, bouldery hike.

Camp sweet camp. The aforementioned storm made this already damp climate even damper and kept me up most of the night. Jacob seemed to sleep through much of it, but says otherwise. Maybe he was just pretending like I was.

A neglected sign is a good sign for a wilderness area.

I nearly fell on the wet rocks trying to get in position for this self-portrait. Vanity can be dangerous.

One of many small waterfalls and rapids that kept me entertained for two days. I find water running downhill to be incredibly fascinating.

Group photo at the end. All that was left was the 45-minute drive around to Jacob's car at the top end and finding our way back out of the mountains. Unfortunately, his Prius had a flat tire when we got there. The last I saw him, he was driving the opposite way on the forest service road, following his Garmin GPS for an alternate route out. I hope his spare tire held up and his blind faith in technology saw him to safety.