Real Men/Women of Genius #11

 

[I know what I said last week, but this is in honor of all those fine folks out there currently marking Hardrock trail in the San Juan Range]

Ingelhook Wineries present…

REAL WOMEN OF GENIUS

{Real gals of geeeeeene-yuss}

Today we raise our glass to you, Madam “This Is My Mountain; You Need To Get Off Now.”

{Madam “WHAAAAAAAA tarya doin’ uppeeeeeeeeere?”}

What our obscure little ultrarunning kingdom sees–not to mention humanity itself–is a very clever means for marking unclear trails, for safety reasons, all across a hundred miles of Alpine tundra. What *you* see is over a thousand ugly trash pieces of metallic litter.

{Who the hell’s gonna clean up this messssssss?}

Are these souvenirs you see from the scrap yard? Do they pose an environmental danger? Or does this represent some kind of bio-hazard to all the precious little rare-to-nonexistent flora and their symbiotic we-don’t-wanna fauna?

{Whudda ya think yer doin’ innyweigh, stickiiiiiiing little flags in MY grou-oond?}

Did you think, Swiss Heidi of the Alps, that all these prickly bushes and weedy Alpine cabbages will die if their roots touch aluminum? Or maybe that all this marking-for-runners’-safety poses toxic danger to all the starving elk and caribou that just love to chow down on skinny steel Slim Jims?

{Take them out this instant! Or I’m cell-phoning the BLM!}

So pop the cork from a slightly chilled bottle of White Zinfandel, O Sacagawea–entrusted by Louis and Clark themselves to keep America pure–and proceed to pull out every single little reflectorized metallic flag you see up there… and then what?

{Oh woe! These suckers are HEAVY!!!}

Are you going to carry them all back down thirteen thousand feet in order to properly dispose of them in somebody else’s dumpster at the back of their tourist store? Or are you just gonna quickly carry them over yonder to where no one can possibly see or find them again for the next thousand years? In other words, Dear Madonna of the Matterhorn, what makes you any “purer” than the precious metal miners of the 1800s–all of whom simply left THEIR tracks and ore carts up there to rust?

{It’s alllllllllllll THEIR fault!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!}

One more thing. When 140 Hardrock runners are ALL lost due to no markings and they ALL require the humane services of Colorado Search-and-Rescue, guess whose taxes are going to go sky-high?

{Mah-damn “This Is MY Mountain; YOU Need To Get Off Now!”}

White Zinfandel yuppie wine: we don’t drink it ourselves; we’d rather just guzzle beer.

( O_O )

Good luck to all the WS100 runners this weekend.

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Yankee Folly of the Day:
No kidding, the above really did (more or less) happen while I helped trail-mark the HRH course some years ago. What, you think I could make this stuff up?