Colorado Rocky Mountain high hiking early on a hazy summer morning may find you more than a little bit high – you may be positively loopy.  I thought I was going crazy.

To begin with, I rose 45 minutes earlier on my day off just to take a hike with a friend. We both needed a break. Real Estate has been a tough business these past few years. My management job is caught somewhere between the vision and the reality. We arranged a luxury hike – my car was parked at the lower trailhead and someone was dropping us off at the upper. All you have to do upon completing a luxury hike is get in your waiting car and go out to lunch. I parked my car, retrieved my knapsack, double-checked that I locked my car and climbed into the backseat of the waiting vehicle.

Secondly, on our way to the trailhead, we passed a late model abandoned car parked eerily at right angels to the side of the road, both front tires in the ditch, obstructing an entire lane, which was somewhat unsettling.

When we arrived at the drop-off point, our elevation gain had been roughly two-thousand feet over that of the valley below where we live.  It usually takes more than that to make me lightheaded, but hey, there’s a first time for everything and I felt the teeniest bit dizzy.

Our driver pulled into a space at the trailhead.  We grabbed our daypacks – complete with 2 liter water reservoirs – and exited the car.  I fished in a side pocket of my pack for a phone to call and report the abandoned vehicle. My friend beat me to it and dialed the proper authority. I began to rummage for my camera.  Must have a photo documenting the start of our trek.  “Want me to take your picture?” she asked.  Last time we hiked together I had the camera and she used her cell phone. I shook my head and continued digging through my pack. Our driver was gone.   “Well, you are going to have to do all the picture taking today,” I conceded.  “I don’t have my camera.  It must have fallen out in the car seat.”

I felt a bit confused. I distinctly remembered stuffing it in a side pocket of the pack before leaving home. Perhaps it fell out in my own car seat before I transferred baggage. My usually conscientious nature was beginning to manifest a bit of tarnish. This particular friend is always picking up on details others miss, so when she whipped out a camera nearly identical to mine a quarter mile into the hike; I thought she was sporting with me. “Did I lay it on a rock when I pulled my phone out?”  I asked myself.  Aloud I said, “Hey, your camera is just like mine!” She replied innocuously and continued to snap occasional photos.

Her preference is wildflowers.  I usually favor unique rock formations and light.

Pleasant weather and good conversation conspired to make the miles go fast.  Hot and perspiring, we climbed in my car at the end of the trail.  I checked all the seats.  No camera.  After delivering my friend to her front door, I proceeded home to empty my backpack and retrace my steps of the morning.  Still no camera. Such a shame if it was lost.  This one recently replaced its earlier model, same color predecessor which wore out after four years’ daily use.  It seems it is rather expensive to be going slowly crazy. What essential item would I loose next?  It was a great hike and nothing to show for it!

A few hours later I received an email which said in part, “-and thanks for the camera. Mine was still unused, deep in the other pocket. Noticed this when I went to download the photos.”

So.  I am happy to report I am not going crazy after all.  I was coming down with a capricious cough and – –  I am getting older. Happy Birthday to me. I have my camera back.