Greetings from Spanish Fork Canyon Utah, "home of the Spanish Fork hotpots." As I have stated in blogs previous since school has started my ability to find stories that are worthwhile have diminished greatly. It is no small wonder than that when "The Creator" Sarah James Holden (I gave her the name the creator because she inspired me to write a blog) invited me to go with her to the Spanish Fork hotpots I immediately accepted in a hope to find some small story that I could write about. Normally I would ask what the Spanish fork hotpots were, where they were, who we were going with, and how we would get there. However, I have been lacking a story like a prisoner of war in the Japanese province of the Battan is lacking food, shelter, and clean living. Which is to say a lot. I figured that hot pots would yield some sort of inspiring experience. I know that some of my readers like Christine (shout out given) are just dying for more stories.
Well truth be told nothing that amazing happened. While we were approaching the turnoff for the Spanish Fork Hotpots we just happened to run into a group of irate hefers. No I do not mean large women, I actually mean large cattle. These wild or semi wild bovine's were angry as angry gets. This was partially due to the fact that they had a few nursing calves and were not too excited to see their little ones threatened by man made vehicles. The car that Sarah, I, her best friend from high school, and a random missionary that she knew from Romania, were in would probably have lost in a head to head matchup. These cows were some angry animals. Luckily we managed to move past the cow and get to the road for the hot springs. However our voyage was disturbed thrice other time by the same cows.
Anyway we began to hike to the hot springs. The hike was about two and a half miles there and another two and a half back. It was a good little job and despite the fact that three members of our party only had one thing in common (that is being Sarah James Holden's friend) the company also was enjoyable. Eventually we made it to the hot springs.
Now this has been a pretty crappy story so far. In fact I would venture to state that it hasn't been a story at all. Rather I believe this has been more of a boring recounting. The remainder of the story is no story at all. Instead it is a ephinay that I had. We eventually arrived at the hot springs. We walked past the lower hot springs where a hippie couple was bathing and made our way to the upper springs. Before the hot springs there is a large boulder blocking the view of oncoming people. At least that is what the boulder appears to be. However, to me that boulder is evidence that there is a creator (not of the blog, but of the world) and he loves me. Now readers you may be wondering why this boulder covering the hot springs is a sign that there is in fact a deity. I will soon tell you. As I climbed up to the second hot springs there in front of my eyes stood not one hippie but two hippies. Not only were these hippies hippies but they were old hippies. But not only were they old hippies, but the man was a naked old hippie. He was not startled. He had heard our bantering for the past little while and decided to grab some clothing, but he had not put the clothes fully on. By the time Sarah and the others arrived he had his shorts on.
Now the reason why I knew that this was evidence that there was a creator was the fact that I saw probably the oldest, ugliest, hairiest women I ever have seen right next to him. She had luckily managed to place her top and bottom on before we arrived. Seeing a naked old man really is not that infrequent of a gig for me. I go to the gym a lot and the old men there always seem to be naked whenever I enter into the locker room. However, were I to have seen that woman I would have been blind. Luckily I have been preserved. This indeed is a tender mercy.
However, I have decided that its time that I shed my clothes for a little while. Next week for a story I will tell you my journeys while being a naked hiker.