My sunglasses have been a source of chaos on these hikes. The sun starts to think about setting in the late afternoon and the shades perpetually travel back and forth from my face. When they’re not grabbing the backs of my ears, they search for lint in my pants pockets or tug on my neckline against all modesty.
On today’s Glen Eyrie hike to the Queen’s Canyon Waterfalls, they fell into the tortoise of a shallow river. It was more of a brook speeding through the space cushions in a three-lane rush-hour traffic of fallen rocks.
The shades greeted a few submerged stones and twirled inside out in a gentle whirlpool behind a boulder. I snatched then up, shook them dry, and sent them in search of pocket lint. The sun soon slid out from behind a crag and when I reached down for my sunglasses I realized they’d jumped ship again.
I don’t need them, my squinting eyes said. Most of my needs, in fact, can be bait and switched for wants – but I’d welcomed the change in pattern that they brought to my travels. The unexpected creates little one-act comedies just for me. So I picked up a pinecone and stuffed it half in my pocket before hiking on.
Update: I found them on the way back down!