As with so many human tragedies, this excursion started out brightly, and optimistically.
Erika, from the night before: “Let's go hiking at 9:30—Squaw Peak. Sharon knows the way.
“From what google says it's about 3 miles each way. So I'm guessing a couple of hours.”
Oh, Innocence! Oh, folly!
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| Cue suspenseful music |
Things did start promisingly enough, and happily too. The following photograph suggests as much. Sharon looks put off, perhaps because Spencer is still so steadily on his feet.
...
Some time later, in fact after the passage of many, many hours, neighbour Pam W. sends out a friendly inquiry on the [infamous] Classy Ladies text thread.
“Did everyone survive?”
Behold PJ's brusque and yet so eloquent response:
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| “No!” |
And this, too, which actually happened on the actual ordeal:
PJ continues her account, importing an image from the world wide web with her cellular telephone, and in her agony sending it along as a warning to future generations.
PJ continues to sound her sorrow. “Rated difficult! I thought I was going for a leisure hike. Darn Sharon!”
Meanwhile, Sharon had sent these suspiciously cheery images to her own children:
But this is how Spencer really was feeling!
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| Straight to bed, and out for 5 full hours! |
Here's Sharon's airbrushed, this-is-the-place panoramic view:
But this appalling prospect gives a more accurate sense of the peril in which these poor people really found themselves!
Erika T., having miraculously survived, makes a bemused, apt observation. “What better way to honor the pioneers—death march for the kids!”
Pam W. makes a wan effort on Sharon's behalf, since, after all, Sharon does have Canadian ancestors.
“Sharon has a short memory for hard hikes ...”
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| On another occasion, with another victim |
And the accused herself? “Sorry guys. That was a hard hike. I just forgot!”
