The highlight of summer always seems to involve wading in a mountain stream. At least it used to, there have been quite a few more recent summers that didn't involve mountain streams at all. Then came this summer.
We did manage to go on the one hike this year. When we happened upon an ideal wading spot I called a halt and started stripping off socks and shoes immediately. The first three kids made their way down the bank and into the water before I got the chance.
I had to unstrap Duke from the baby carrier, remove both our shoes and roll up my pant legs before I could follow.
Finally I got my feet onto the pebbled bottom of the tributary we'd picked to wade in and found I'd already had enough. The quickest refuge from the frigid water was a rock just one step further along. I got myself up onto that thing as fast as I could and there I was stuck. I have apparently acclimated to Arizona's climate better than I'd realized. In so much that a stream fed primarily by runoff from the winter's snows was too much for me.
I stayed on my rock for quite a while trying to work up courage for the two step trek back tot he bank. I'd taken Duke with me out to my tiny makeshift island with the idea that I'd dip his wee toes in the pleasant stream. Instead I passed him back to The Mr and the bank where those toes could enjoy warm sand as opposed to freshly melted glacial runoff.
The other kids though, seemed to enjoy the adventure just as much as I remember doing. Ziz and Enz did tend to stick to the rocks hurrying through the water only as it was necessary to gain access to bigger and better rocks.
At this point I feel I should note that The Mr was a way better sport about the cold water than I was, and wading in it wasn't even his idea.
And now, because I can't think of a good conclusion for this post, and because I had a hard time narrowing them down, here's another handful of photos from that day.