Just say don't

Eric and I went for a hike Sunday morning. The one we chose was about six miles long and was one of those neat multi-ecosystem hikes where you go from walking along the end of a lake, to walking through a dense redwood forest, to walking through head-high scrubby bushes, to walking along a grassy ridge, and then back down into a eucalyptus forest to the water and to the car.

Despite the gloomy 50 degree weather on the Clementina Show, it was sunny and hot out on the trail and we were quickly sweaty, dusty and hot. As we walked along the water, its shimmering wateriness became almost unbearably appealing. This was no doubt exacerbated by the "No Swimming - Citations Will Be Issued" signs every 100 yards because the lake is actually a drinking water reservoir for the local area.

We finally came to a secluded spot in the shade where we could see through the crystal clear water all the way to the bottom, about ten feet. It was a natural swimming hole and it was crying out to be swimmed in.*

I looked at Eric. He looked at me. We both looked around. And then we stripped down and dipped our skinnies in the drink.

It was extremely refreshing.

We splashed around for a minute, reveling in our naughtiness and in the gloriously cool clear water. Then, when we'd had the moment, we high-tailed it out and dressed as fast as we could before anyone with a citation book came along looking to exercise his pen.

And for the record, neither of us peed.


*Swum in??