So today I climbed Fort Rock (200 ft drop) and walked the rim of a cinder cone (I have no idea how tall, but it felt really high). Then we went to Paulina Peak, the highest point in the Newberry Caldera. About halfway up, my tolerance for heights gave out. I’ll admit the views at the top were stunning (once the panic had waned enough for me to get out of the truck) and the drive down was better (the passenger side faced the mountain on the way down, rather than my imminent demise).
My self talk for the drive down went something like this:
Breathe, Connors. Oh hey, that’s a nice rock. Breathe. Oh hey, there’s a nice tree. Breathe, dammit! OH CRAP WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!!! Breathe, Connors. Oh hey, that’s a nice rock.
And then I ate potato chips. A lot of them. Followed by chocolate. I’m not proud of it, I’m just reporting the facts.
Here’s a picture of the view from the cinder cone. I was sweating and shaking too much to take a picture at Paulina Peak, because I swear to God, it was like looking out the window of an airplane. Without the airplane.
There's a Bee in my Bodice 