I'm serious. As a kid, I had this picture in my mind that there was an 85 degree slope to get "up" on Bent Mountain, with roads barely wide enough for one small car to make the journey. I imagined that the slightest snowfall would absolutely wreak havoc, since no residents would be able to "come down" Bent Mountain for weeks. People say that phrase as well---"come down Bent Mountain." No lie, I've heard countless epic tales that started with, "Last week, I was coming down Bent Mountain and..."
Needless to say, I was a little scared to go "up" on Bent Mountain yesterday. I had horrible flashbacks to a seventeen year old Josh Tate driving a minivan full of teenagers up the narrow, winding roads to Ski Beech in the snow/ice. And yet, risking my life, up on Bent Mountain I went.
It was rather anticlimactic.
The roads were normal. Completely normal. There were cars safely traveling in both directions. There were no 85 degree slopes. There were no curves so sharp they could be considered u-turns. Nothing. I may have began mocking how all of the "last week, I was going up Bent Mountain..." stories portray the same intensity level as the "last week, I was rock climbing in the Grand Canyon while blindfolded..." stories when we turned a corner and stumbled upon this:
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Out of nowhere, a cloud just fell from the sky. It wasn't foggy or hazy. It was undoubtedly a cloud. A giant, white, fluffy cloud "up on Bent Mountain."
It looked exactly like the view from an airplane---being able to see the tops of the thick, fluffy clouds. Except we weren't on an airplane. We were up on Bent Mountain.
And now, I have my own "up on Bent Mountain" story. So exciting :)
After I "came down Bent Mountain," I went to camp. I think it's safe to say that it's officially spring!
(I painted the sign four summers ago & signed my name with a smiley face underneath the last board. It's still there) :)
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I hope it really is spring this time. I'm getting a little tired of having to pull out the sweatshirts after three days in a row of 80 degree weather.