About That Beer…

Remember when I told you that I got lost on the way to a major national monument, and took 45 minutes to go the last kilometer on foot, and that I wouldn’t tell you the story without beer? I totally lied, because I looked at the pictures again. Seriously, how could I resist this:
Wading in the glacial meltwater

“It’s not that cold,” she said. That’s glacial meltwater, but she was comparing it to Lake Superior, which hovers at a cool 4 degrees Celsius. I guess that when you get that close to freezing, the feet can’t tell the difference.

Then I turned around and saw my son doing his very best impression of a snarly teenager:

“I will acknowledge,” he said, grudgingly, “that it is very, very, very, very, [he went on like this for some time]… OK.”

“Would it be better than OK, if we hadn’t gotten lost in the swamp and bitten by mosquitoes and gotten our feet wet?” I asked.

He looked at me. “But we did all those things. So that question is not relevant.”

Forever, this will be my memory of:

Lake Louise. Lost. In the swamp. Between the parking lot and the lake. With a snarly near-teen. Go me.

Moral of the story: Sometimes it’s best just to follow the crowd.

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