A couple of weekends ago, four of us girls drove up the hill to Copperopolis, where a pretty lake is surrounded by cliffs and rocks perfect for those who want to, well, jump. We started the hike in with as few things as possible: two tubes, water shoes, sunscreen and a waterproof box for my crappy camera (you’ll notice in some pics that the lens cover didn’t open all the way … that’s why I’m not scared to submerge this camera in water). We’d planned to jump, and then just swim further into deeper holes.
Amber and Maggie had been before and were all about the jumping. Jenny and I, not so much about the jumping. Jenny has a very worthy fear of the Lockeness Monster. Understandable, considering there were questionable globs of goo hanging everywhere — Lockeness eggs, maybe? I thought I’d be fine with the jump, was looking forward to it actually. But when I got to the top, looked over the ledge and saw how far I’d have to jump to avoid slamming into rocks on the bottom, I just couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t jump in fourth grade either, when I went alone on a YMCA camping trip with eighth graders and high school kids who already knew each other. We’d climbed up to a cliff to jump, and I couldn’t. I was a little traumatized by that experience for a while because not only was I the young kid who got picked on that entire trip by boys as they were hitting puberty, it was adults I heard on the bottom talking about how the girl in the orange suit couldn’t jump. A couple of weeks ago, on the rock ledge in Copperopolis, I had a flash back to the fourth grade me. But then I realized nobody cared if I jumped. I knew my friends would still be my friends and think I was cool even if I backed out at the last second. And the local sunbathing on the ledge admitted she, too, had always been too “chicken” to jump.
So I never did jump. I climbed down the big rock and walked into the water and swam up the reservoir for the next three hours, doing what I do best — snapping a few pics of peoples’ funny faces as they look (or don’t) at the camera.
We tied our shoes, sunblock and water bottles to a raft and they float along with us.
These, we’re told, are bullfrog egg sacks. With the water especially low right now, they were everywhere. And they are uber disgusting.
Well, good night, friends. I hope you’ve had a great weekend. Mine was busy, and has left me feeling utterly drained and ready to hit the sheets in two minutes flat. Yes, that puts me in bed before 9, but in the words of Miss Maggie, “sometimes you need that.” Peaceful dreams and deep sleep to you …