Flying Daggers

For this misadventure, I claim absolutely no responsibility. It was purely the random nature of the universe rolling craps on me again. It started two weeks earlier. I had taken my sister and her two children for a picnic at South Fork meadow on Mt. San Gorgonio in the San Bernardino National Forest. The meadow is at a confluence of two tributaries of the South Fork River. I had been there many times and knew that during the spring, it was filled with wildflowers and singing birds, a perfect place for a picnic.

Getting to the meadow required crossing one of the streams on a fallen log. I had done it many times and knew it was safe. The day went great. My sister's children, both city kids, loved the adventure. Everything went so well that I decided to bring a girlfriend there two weeks later. What could go wrong?

I should never tempt fate with thoughts like that. Every time I do, I pay the price. It was another beautiful day when my girlfriend and I set out for the meadow. It was a relatively short hike from the trailhead and the hike was very nice. Arriving at the meadow, everything looked just as nice as it had two weeks earlier. All that remained was to cross that log bridge and set up our picnic. What could go wrong? Yikes! I said it again!

I was leading the way and the first to start across the log bridge. Walking slowly with my hands out for balance, I was halfway across when I was suddenly enveloped by a cloud of something. Tiny daggers began to pierce me everywhere. I realized that I was surrounded by a swarm of very angry yellow jackets! They stung me in the neck, face, hands and legs. They were like tiny heat seeking missiles targeting every bit of exposed skin I had. I desperately tried to swat them away while still balancing on the log. It was like I was some sort of maniacal puppet dancing wildly on the log as the yellow jackets pulled the strings!

Finally, I jumped off the log onto the far bank and moved out of their range. My girlfriend had quickly moved away while still on the near bank and was unharmed. Now with time to reflect, it seems the yellow jackets had set up a nest near the log during the intervening two weeks and I had walked right into it.

I don't know if yellow jackets die after stinging like bees do. If so, there were a lot of dead yellow jackets that day. I had red spots all over me from the stings like a case of measles. My girlfriend wanted nothing to do with the meadow after seeing what happened to me and I couldn't blame her. Now, however, besides hurting everywhere from the stings, I had a problem of geography. My girlfriend was on one side of the stream and I on the other. I sure wasn't going to cross that log a second time. I may not be the sharpest tool in the box but I do learn!

Eventually, there was no choice, I had to wade across the stream. Now, instead of just hurting from the stings, I was wet and hurting. Some days I hate my life! I trudged on in soggy boots and eventually found another place for the picnic. Unfortunately, the fun had gone out of the trip and I couldn't wait to get back home.