The Fog of August
“Adama: What do you hear, Starbuck?
Kara: Nothing but the rain.”
8 August 2024 Greenbelt Plateau Under a foggy gray sky and light rain, S and D met at the Greenbelt Plateau trail. No one in the parking lot. No one on the trail. Just a cow. And some mud. And those little birds that run up the trail in front of you and then fly back into the field.
The only thing in the sky was the rain.
Traditionally, the first step before embarking on a trail is to review the rules and regulations listed on the trailhead sign, along with any other signs that may have been posted. Here at the intersection of the Greenbelt Plateau and High Plains trails, is a sign about not disturbing burrowing owls: Stay on the trail.
So of course the explorers made a point to stay between the lines, and grunt disapprovingly at the single-track trail running parallel to the main gravel trail. Well, maybe these both qualify as “the trail” to stay upon. But ya gotta grunt and scowl about something. It’s tradition.
At the end of the trail, a pelican. Two, actually, far off in Marshall Lake. As dusk fell, a nighthawk whirled past, its calls piercing the fog like a lonely, lost ghost.
The trail seemed longer and more tiring than our fearless adventurers remembered. Still some burned trees from the Marshall fire a few years back.
Twilight shrouded the plateau. Headlights from Highway 93 glowed in the fog like distant alien cities.
The intrepid explorers arrived back at the trailhead in darkness, and declared it another successful BNO.
