I have a very dear friend who is very different from me. Our big values align, but the small things are just….different. She is the kind of person that you want to know when the zombie apocalypse happens. Think of a modern day version of your pioneer great great grandmother. Whereas I’m the one that’s always on the verge of becoming a vegetarian because thinking about the animals makes me sad, she’s the one that’s out there field dressing the deer.
The family photo shoot that I did for her last week was by far the most interesting I have ever done. Not because there was anything particularly outstanding about the photos themselves but more so due to the fact that I was pretty sure I was going to die before it was all finished.
When she first mentioned that she wanted to do some photos of her kids, she said she would really like to do them in their creek. That’s fine, I’ve seen their creek before and thought all would be well. She gave me her mud boots to wear, and that should’ve tipped me off to the fact that this would not be a normal photo session. We loaded up in their side-by-side and headed to the spot. As we started getting close she mentioned that it was kind of muddy, and she hoped we could make it. I wasn’t too concerned because I didn’t think it would be difficult to walk the rest of the way if we needed to.
Well, we keep getting closer, and I see no sign of her stopping. The kids point out that their daddy got stuck going through this spot in the side-by-side the other day, so she’s probably not going to make it through.
That is the wrong thing to say to my friend. Don’t ever tell her a man can do something like that better than she can. She informs the kids that she has been driving through this creek far longer than their daddy and that they better hold on! At this point I realize that we are actually going to drive through the creek that I thought we were taking pictures in. And by creek, I mean water running through a big, muddy valley with what I consider to be very steep sides. She hit the gas, and I held on to the side rails for dear life!
Never in a million years would I voluntarily drive through there myself, but she thankfully made it without any problems. We proceeded to head to the other creek where we would actually be taking photos, and once we got there I found an even deeper valley with even steeper and muddier sides. As I look around for the steps to the bottom, she and the kids start basically sliding down the mud. And this is that kind of slick mud that has zero friction whatsoever. She gets partway down and then turns back and offers me her hand. Umm, so seriously, where are the steps??
We make it down into the valley after I almost fall on my bottom about seven times. We get the kids together to take a few pictures and then let them splash around for a while while I take a few more. I stepped onto what I thought was a very smooth rock, and my foot sunk down into mud deeper than the top of my boot. Finding it difficult to maintain my balance, my other foot was quick to be lost in the mud as well. My friend had to come extract me from the mud, and so much mud had gotten inside my boots and caked to the outside that my feet felt like Rock Man’s. Except I didn’t have all the bulging muscles to help lug all that extra weight around.
In spite of it all, the creek and weather were beautiful, and we finished up and made the slippery climb out and the death drive back without any trouble. We hosed about 5 pounds of mud off my socks and boots, and then I headed home saying prayers of thanks for having survived the wilderness while my sweet friend went inside to finish up what had for her been a perfectly ordinary day.
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