Fresh LA air

We took Lila on her first hike last weekend, safely cushioned in her new backpack, Daddy's father's day present. What could be better than being carried up a hill like a Pasha? At the very least, it ranks higher than doing the carrying.

It was a gorgeous day, and we opted for a hike that was more covered, so the sun wouldn't beat down on the princess. So we found a shaded walk up to a waterfall up in the Palisades that sounded nice, up the Santa Ynez Canyon Trail. It promised the sound of rushing water for the entire walk until the falls. "Rushing" was a bit optimistic. At this time of year, when the LA river is little more than a urine stream, the faint trickle next to the path just sounded like someone had left a toilet running in a distant room.

But no matter. We left the road and hit the trail, with Lila happily doodle-doodle-doodling behind me. (That's her new favorite verbalization: a chipper endless rambling of "Doodle doodle doodle doodle...") We quickly realized the drawback of being a tall man hiking a shaded path with a baby on his back: if I ducked under a branch, it raised Lila behind me where she would hit the branch. So I had to squat down under every low-hanging obstacle rather than bending over, looking like I was limboing poorly, which really burns the legs. But it seemed to work: except for one mysterious scratch on the face that she didn't complain about, she emerged unscathed. Not that I didn't hear plenty of frightened, close-call gasps coming from Mommy behind me every time I performed the maneuver.



We made it to the waterfall...or at least what we assumed was the waterfall, because we saw no discernible falling water, just a steep pile of rocks which, if water did fall over it, would have made for a waterfall. But we had a picnic lunch that started crankily, but once Lila was given her avocado slices she calmed down and enjoyed the view. Since this was her first waterfall, she had no perspective and didn't know to be disappointed. Ah, the joyful naivete of a not-fully-formed brain.

On the way back down I commented to Christine as to how irritating I found to pass so many people wearing long pants on a pretty warm day. Were they trying to make me sweat vicariously? Minutes later, we passed another long-pantsed man coming up the hill, who said, "How about all this poison oak, huh?"

Ahhh. So that's why the long pants.

Apparently, he told us, it was all over the trail. He pointed out a clump right next to us. I began wondering whether we were covered with it, and if that scratch on Lila's face was from her getting whipped in the face with poison oak, which would make for a nasty aftermath. We very daintily continued back down, skirting plants that looked vaguely like what the man had pointed out to us, by which I mean anything that was green and had leaves. Happily, no one has shown any sign of rash, Lila has seen her first waterfall, and Mommy and Daddy got to feel all outdoorsy for a day. Everybody wins.