All About the Ass: Or, How Two Lost Girls (Again) Proved Gravity is a Jerk
- Jeannette Ortega
- Jul 24
- 5 min read
Updated: Aug 13
Alright, buckle up, buttercups, because the 2 Lost Girls (that’s us, Jen and Ali, for the uninitiated, or those who haven't yet seen us faceplant in person) are back! After a brief, totally not-at-all-dramatic hiatus (Jen was buried in work, Ali was navigating the personal abyss), we’re here to regale you with our latest escapade. And let me tell you, this one was, quite literally, all about the ass. Ali falling on hers, Jen stubbornly keeping hers firmly planted, and one particularly aggressive ass blasting Eminem at the crack of dawn.
Our grand plan? An overnight escape to Bill Evans Lake. The mission, should we choose to accept it (and we did, because apparently, we thrive on mild chaos): capture the elusive full moon on camera and, more importantly, finally conquer the paddleboard. You know, those giant, glorified surfboards that make you look effortlessly cool until you inevitably become one with the water.
The rendezvous was set for a civilized 9 AM. Jen, being the neurotic early bird (read: slightly unhinged overachiever), snuck out the night before to snag a prime lakeside spot. By the time Ali, the Queen of Dramatic Entrances, rolled in around noon, Jen had practically built a passive-aggressive glare-fortress around our coveted campsite. Ali was instructed to park the FJ like a defensive lineman, ensuring no one dared encroach on our lakeside sanctuary. Not that it mattered. Some catfish-obsessed individual decided our personal space was merely a suggestion and parked their olfactory-assaulting fishing operation right next to us. Jen actually thought she needed a shower. Nope, just Catfish Bait. Disgusting.
With the campsite semi-secured, we began the Herculean task of unloading the paddleboards. These things are not for the faint of heart, or weak of bicep. They're heavy. Our future selves are already high-fiving over inflatable paddleboards. Our genius strategy? Paddle to the far end of the lake for some "private" standing practice. Away from the judgmental stares of... well, everyone. We took turns sitting and kneeling (ouch, those knees!), slowly making our way across the shimmering water. You'd think standing on a board wouldn't be that hard, right? I mean, we both ride motorcycles; our balance is usually pretty spot-on. HA! Oh, how naive we were. Ali achieved peak ungracefulness, taking an undoubtedly memorable plunge, landing squarely on her butt. Jen, ever the pragmatist (read: lazy), declared the safest way back to camp was firmly on her derriere. Ali, however, channeled her inner paddleboard guru and paddled back standing up, her legs shaking like a chihuahua in a snowstorm by the time she hit shore. Both of us vowed to conquer these aquatic beasts by summer's end. (Spoiler: TBD.)
Back at camp, Jen’s daughter Megan and her adorable brood arrived, ready for lakeside fun. That’s when Ali, in a moment of questionable decision-making, decided her shoes needed a "rock washing." She waded in, oblivious to the ominous squish beneath her feet, and promptly found herself in a mud bog. Stuck. And then, because the universe loves a good laugh, she fell into the water just as Abe (Jen's Grandson) rounded the corner. His simple, "I see you decided to go for a swim," was met with Ali’s internal monologue about the distinct lack of "decision" involved as dirt and sand swirled around her. Jen, naturally, was in hysterics. This, dear readers, is why Jen builds barricades. Some of us just don't get the memo.
After Ali's impromptu mud facial and Jen’s robust cackling, we tackled setting up camp. The only trees suitable for our beloved Haven Tents were, of course, on one of the roads leading to the campsite. So, Ali, ever the resourceful (read: traffic-blocking) one, moved the FJ to the top of the road, effectively creating our own private cul-de-sac. Setting up those tents is getting easier, but we still managed a few laughs wrestling them into the trees. Ah, the sweet embrace of sleeping suspended above the ground – a luxury we haven't enjoyed much lately due to a distinct lack of proper tree placement. The rest of the day was a blissful blur of kayaking, paddleboarding (still mostly from the butt), snacking, and enjoying the family.
As dusk settled, our primary mission re-emerged: full moon pictures! We loaded up the camera gear and drove to the NW side of the lake. Setting up in the dark was, to put it mildly, a comedy of errors. Note to self: headlamps with charged batteries are a thing. Ali, ever the klutz, nearly tumbled off the side of a ravine while walking backward. Then, a truck, clearly auditioning for the Baja 1000, nearly ran us over on that little dirt road. Despite the near-death experiences, the full moon pictures turned out amazing. We hope. (Our final moon pictures at the end of this blog)
Upon our triumphant (and slightly bruised) return to the campsite, we discovered our neighbors were in full-blown party mode. Loud music blared, shattering any illusion of a peaceful evening. So much for quiet contemplation. Not that it mattered much; we were utterly exhausted and fast asleep in our Haven tents by 10 PM. The music finally ended around midnight, but honestly, we wouldn't have noticed.
There's nothing quite like waking up to Eminem at 8 AM on a Sunday morning. Jen and Ali were decidedly not happy campers. Ali, fueled by a desperate need for silence, stumbled out to make coffee. After a much-needed caffeine infusion and absolutely sick of the rap battle, we decided to escape to the tranquil embrace of the lake on our kayaks. The water was so clear and smooth – a perfect calm morning. When we returned, refreshed and serene, we discovered the neighbors had, mercifully, kicked Eminem out of the campsite. He was gone. Hallelujah!
We took our sweet time tearing down camp, savoring the quiet. Everything was finally loaded just as a storm alert flashed across our phones. As we drove out, we made one last stop at the lake entrance, attempting to capture the lightning. But it was too quick, and the rain started to fall. We called it a day and headed home.
It was a nice little getaway from the hustle and bustle, even if it was only overnight. And despite the falls, the mud, and the unexpected soundtrack, it was very much needed. Now, who wants to chip in for those inflatable paddleboards? Our butts are still recovering.
Our Gear
Where We Wandered - Fine Art Prints
コメント