Did a quick hike up to the top of Mt. Sentinel and back this morning. What, you may ask, is the significance of this particularly dry section of trail?
Two or three summers ago Julia and I were passing through here when a woman, obviously in an advanced state of discomfort and dismay, jogged/fast-walked past us, her hands down her pants (they were those fancy form-fitting jogging pants things, if I recall), holding them away from her backside. As she went by, she explained she had somehow managed to accidentally fire her can of bear spray down her pants. Don’t ask me how she managed that. She was beating feet back to the trailhead, which was probably another mile, mile-and-a-half from where she passed us.
About thirty feet behind her came her husband, with a somewhat embarrassed smirk on his face.
I’m sure it was probably rather uncomfortable. Me being the kind of person I am, though, I also found it rather amusing. If it had happened to us (i.e. happened to Julia), I don’t think it would take more than a beer or two to get me telling that story in any given social situation (i.e. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Her Birthday. The Internet. Etc.).