Thursday, January 3, 2013

Ansels' Cave

Between Christmas and New Year's, I decided it would be fun to try a surprising change of pace, so I gave up robust health in favor of a head full of mucus and a throat full of dead hedgehog.  I like variety.  I also learned long ago in Oregon that when I feel that particular flavor of awful, cold air helps.  When I gave up on sleep around 4 AM last week, I went outside and shoveled the drive, prompting 66% of the house's remaining occupants to stagger sleepily to the door and chide me, but it was the best I felt all day.  Sledding was another attempt to get outside and breathe large amounts of chilled air.  Monday, after bidding adieu to The Girl's brother (Mr. Adventure), sister-in-law, and wee nephew, the rest of us went hiking at the Geauga Park District's West Woods, in search of Ansel's Cave and, in my case, more cold air.

We found the cave, and some ledges--that was easy enough, thanks to well-labeled trails.  Admittedly, the cave itself is not that impressive, and is currently closed to prevent the spread of White Nose Syndrome, an affliction of much-maligned flying mammals.  However, the ledges and affiliated waterfall are picturesque in nearly any weather, evoking images straight out of Tolkien.


I was also drawn, as I usually am, to snow that has stacked high, then warmed just enough to plasticize and contort into strange new shapes.


slide

Shortly after Christmas, The Girl and I met up with a couple of her high school friends (now married to each other, and my Long After College friends) to go sledding.  Unfortunately, one of them, who shall remain nameless but has a side project called the Death Cart, shared intersecting down-slope trajectories with a couple of local pre-adolescents (entirely unharmed by his presence), and his wife decided she was done sledding for the day.  Something about how she "didn't want to run over any kids."  Go figure.  She hadn't hit anybody.

We compromised with a hike through the nearby woods, wandering aimlessly for about an hour in the hopes that the slope's population would thin itself out a little in the interim.  When we returned, she remained a conscientious objector while I took a few more downhill dives (missing every child available) until it was time to find dinner at--no joke--Rick's Cafe.  Somehow, nobody else got the reference until we arrived and saw the movie posters.  If you're interested, they have a stunning array of novel burgers, and are located in Chagrin Falls, Ohio, along with a tasteful riverside holiday light display.  (in contrast to our other holiday light display excursion, a rampant, egregious excess so outlandish that any attempted photos would have been overexposed--sadly, I can not prove this with pictures, but it did Happen.)