The first time I went to Bear Mountain, it actually wasn’t where I was planning to go. This was years and years ago. My mom and I were heading off on a road trip, and forty-five minutes into our trip, we somehow ended up lost. In Bear Mountain. After going there this past weekend, I can’t imagine how it even happened. But I *do* remember it took us the better part of an hour to find our way back out. Ahh, good times.
Unfortunately, my streak continued. Clearly I have issues with Bear Mountain. And getting lost. Although, I swear to you, I rarely get lost. Losing things is a completely separate topic as, I’m sad to say, friends and family can report. Anyway. Sarah and I planned a Bear Mountain meet-up with the kids ages ago. As the day got closer and closer, our details became more and more concrete. A picnic. A menu. She brings this. I bring that. We spend the day in the sun, letting the kids run around and get all their crazies out, without spending much scratch.
So the morning was a little crazy. We finally arrive at Bear Mountain and I blithely follow the signs. Up. Up. Up. Up some more. The kids fast asleep in the car. I gasped at every turn. For two reasons. One. The view is absolutely, positively stunning. Breathtaking. Like if you happen to live within a reasonable driving distance, you should go. Picnic. Hike. Invent a reason and just go. And be sure to drive to the top of the mountain to get the full effect. And then there is the second reason. Wow, is it ever scary driving near the edge of a cliff. On a narrow road. With nary a guard rail in sight. I got out a few times and took pictures and the last time, Nick woke up. “Oh my gosh, this is so scary.” Kid, you ain’t kidding. I tend to be a little paranoid about a few things, and I have since added accidentally driving over a cliff to the list. I mean, you *did* hear what happened to Heidi Montag’s famed plastic surgeon, right? Of course, he was texting while driving, but still.
So we’re at the top of the mountain, and there are only a handful of cars. No carousel. No zoo. No big lake. No picnic area to speak of. And definitely no Sarah. I don’t get it. All I did was follow the signs for Bear Mountain. I asked a nearby couple, who very thoughtfully shared their map, what I did wrong and they pointed down below. That’s where you need to be, they said. Oh.
At this point, Sarah is texting me, telling me she’s in the ‘hood. And parked. By the carousel. Clearly, she has done this before. Fine then. So back in the car, and now we go down. Down. Down the mountain. (As a side note, if you go for just the zoo or the carousel or what have you, do make the same mistake I did and first go to the top of the mountain. If for nothing else, the view. Please).
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