March in Lower Hulls Gulch

I remind Brenna of her troll patrol duty^¹ as we approach the first bridge and patch of brambles along the Lower Hulls Gulch dirt path. She is quick to assume the role.

“Stay there!” she commands with raised hand before running ahead to peer into shaded spaces.

1. Trail Image, “Brenna’s First Walk Into Hulls Gulch”: trailimage.com/brennas-first-walk-into-hulls-gulch

It has been a few years since we visited here. Hunter is officially a teen now. We mentioned to him where we were going but would have been shocked if he’d wanted to join us.

“We’ll probably stop at a restaurant for lunch on the way back,” I suggest as a bit of inducement but he’s unmoved.

“Can you bring me something back?” he asks.

“Go take a look. We’ll wait,” we assure her.

We watch as Brenna runs up the hill to add her initials to many others scratched into curiously orange earth exposed along a branch of the trail we aren’t following today.

“Feel how cold this is,” Brenna insists.

“I’ve felt plenty of cold water before,” I assure her, thinking of camping baths in mountain creeks.^¹

1. Trail Image, “Brother Ride 2014: Pinyon Peak”: trailimage.com/…/pinyon-peak

“Look at this dad,” Brenna calls. She’s standing expressionless in a depression surrounded by brush. “Take my picture.”

A fork in the path reminds me of a little logic puzzle: Imagine you come to a fork in the road while trying to reach a destination. No sign points the way but standing there are two brothers, one known always to lie and the other known always to tell the truth. You don’t know which is which.

“You may ask just one of us a question,” they tell you. What one question can you ask that assures you’ll be pointed in the right direction?

“Look at that,” I notice. Brenna has gotten a bit grouchy so I’m glad to see the fuzzy caterpillar I know will improve her mood. Jessica helps pick it up.

“It tickles!” Brenna screeches as it walks around her palm.

“What are you going to name it?” I ask. “I like Pilly,” I suggest.

“I don’t think it will like our house,” we answer the usual question about bringing whatever creature home. Brenna agrees to find the caterpillar a nice home in the gulch.

Brenna is almost in tears when she finally has to leave the caterpillar behind. She finds it some nice grass nestled in brush safely away from footfalls.

“Where do you want to go for lunch?” I ask to get her mind on the next thing.

It has been a beautiful day in the gulch.