It fascinates me what brings up a memory. It can be a smell, sight or sound and the memory is there in technicolor, painted across your mind.
I was walking down a dusty, gravel road today when a gust of wind slapped me in the face with sand and gravel. Instantly, I was back in Colorado, hiking down a trail in the vicious winter winds. Just like that the memory was up and present.
One of the things I have struggled to enjoy in Colorado are the winters, and the strong, gusty wind is the worse of it. I am so happy to have that in my past. But there it was, as a memory, front and center.
I continued down the road to the suspension foot bridge that crosses the Caldera River. You can see the bridge in the picture above.
This is a loose, flimsy old bridge that has caused me some fear in the past. Not only is it wiggly but the rails and expanded metal on the floor are missing in places and worn through or bent out of shape in other areas. The sides are ancient cyclone fence that has tried to take off my finger a time or two. Grabbing onto the side to keep your balance is a dicey action, fraught with things that hook and pierce you.
This time I was bound and determined to cross it like a man! No more whimpering and cowering as I crossed. Just one strong step after another.
So much for good ideas.
As I took my 4th step, a mighty gust shot down the river, pushing me toward the side, lifting my hat off my head as the bridge yo-yo'd the other way, rebounding from the gust. So I was moving one direction and the bridge is springing in the opposite direction.
I sank to the floor of the bridge like a simpering 3 year old. So much for my manly action. That damn bridge is challenging on a calm day much less a windy one. I should have crawled across it on my hand and knees like I wanted to.
Of course, a local crossed the bridge after me without a hitch.
This year has been full of wind. On my trips over the past 5 years, I don't remember much wind. I hope this is not the norm because the wind sucks!
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