The part right BEFORE The native Californian explains to the New Yorker that the weird holes in the steep and narrow path? …are snake-holes. In which, presumably? There are snakes. NOPE NOPE NOPE. Bye, mountain path.
Sometimes it was muddy, sometimes it was icy, and sometimes it was at basically an eighty-degree angle. Nonetheless!
When you jump all the rocks to get to the middle of the giant puddle… and then realize that no one cares to follow you.
Yes I *will* sit on this giant cable-car-pulley-wheel and find my light, thank you.