return to the leak in the dike
Posted by Zonie on February 18, 2024 at 02:10:49
A pair of my work overalls became too battered for their usual purpose, so I figured I'd trash them in the mud. The weather was a lot warmer than last weekend, so I planned on a full wallow if possible.
I went back to the east segment of Reach 11. The warmer conditions brought out a lot of people, and the trails were relatively crowded. I could find a little stomping mud, but most of the mud had dried. Eventually I returned to the area near the 56th Street overpass, wondering if the water hole had diminished to a mud hole. It had not. It was still just as large as it was last Sunday, and there was still water flowing out of that pipe feeding it.
It occurred to me that if the city wants to keep this as a permanent feature, and I can rely upon it being there, it might be safe to hike there even in the summer. I took a dip, and it fortified me against the February sunshine, but although I was soaked, I was only slightly muddy. I thought maybe I'll need to post about this on the Beach Club instead of the Mud Pit. Still, the day was young, and I intended to press further east beyond 56th Street.
I followed the north trail, and there was some mud there, but most of it had dried. Eventually I found an old construction road just to the north of the recreation area on state trust land. It was badly rutted and had some deep puddles. This is what I wanted.
I headed onto that road and started stomping in the puddles. Some were muddy and creamy. Others were relatively clean and deep. I soon flooded my wellies and found one rutted puddle went up past my knees. It occurred to me that this really deep one would be good for cleanup and save me the trouble of using the garden hose at home.
I then splashed my way back to a long creamy mud puddle. I stomped through to churn it up and make sure there was no dangerous debris in it. I then slid into it on my belly, rolled over, grabbed handfulls of the mud, threw them on my hat and all over me.
When I had had enough of that, I went back to that really deep puddle and cleaned the top of me by sitting down in it. As I was doing this, two boys were riding mountain bicycles on the north trail in the adjacent recreation area, and one of them shouted, "Puddle!" I thought it strange that he should shout that while I was in one, but he was evidently referring to one further down the trail that they wished to avoid.
I worked out most of the mud from my shirt and the top of my overalls while sitting down, but this caused more mud to stick to my backside, so I got on my feet and crouched down to clean that. Then I went back to Reach 11 to find the puddle of which that boy had warned. I stomped in that a bit and then returned to the state trust land to stomp in mud puddles some more.
Finally I headed back, took a slightly different route and found a few minor mud areas I hadn't encountered on the way in. Apart from my boots, I was mostly clean and nearly dry by the time I got to my car. What was strange was that all day the coyotes didn't make a sound. They didn't even answer the fire engine. Maybe all those humans invading their habitat convinced them to keep a low profile. When I disrobed at home, those overalls still looked good enough for another mud hike, so I may do that with them next weekend.