For those of you who know me, you know my one true, debilitating fear.
My mother sent me t-shirt a while ago that says,
"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself...and spiders."
Then it has a picture of little spider guy hanging from a thin black thread.
It's too bad the spider guy is on there, I just can't bring myself to put it on.
When my children are looking at nurture books and bring me photos of arachnids I come unglued and give them unreasonable consequences.
I think I may have blogged about this subject before.
Normally one blog post would suffice, but I have some recent experiences that some of you may or may not find hilarious.
I do not.
Maybe someday I will, but for now, I'm still in shock and will likely never hike to what used to be my favorite waterfall ever again.
A few years ago Mr Bird and I hiked said trail with some friends for date night.
On the way up a huge tarantula decided to make himself cozy right in the middle of the path.
Mr Bird got some gnarly pictures of it, pictures which I to this day can not bring myself to even look at, let alone desecrate my blog with.
I stayed far, far away and only passed the spot after I was sure any sign of him was long gone.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Shame on me!
Last week my wonderful nephew took me and my brood up to the fabulous waterfall for one last hike before he leaves for law school for 3 long years.
We chose our favorite spot, waterfall canyon.
The hike up was grueling, but we all made it to the top after some blood, sweat and even a few tears.
We played in the cool spray of the waterfall and dipped our toes in the little pools made by the constant dripping water.
We had a water fight and ate our snacks.
Finally, it was time to head home and back to the beds we longed to fall into.
I strapped M&M in the hiking backpack and we were off.
I love the hike down, it's always so nice to be headed downhill with the gorgeous, trickling river winding along the path.
Some of the boulders on that path are so huge that you have to put your hand down and sit on them as you drop your legs down to the ground below to reach the lower ground.
You kind of get into a groove and it's much faster going down than up.
Imagine my surprise when, coming to a steep decline, I put my hand out to help myself down only to see a spider the size of the palm of my hand camped out right on the rock I needed for support.
It all happened in a flash, but time seemed to stand still.
I paused, not sure of what to do.
The baby was on my back, so I knew I had to watch my step, I knew it was steep.
I was at an impasse.
That is, I was, until that thing locked eyes with me.
Yes, it was big enough that I could see its eyes and it looked right at me.
Then as if it read my mind, it jetted right for me at lightening speed!
That's when my brain turned off.
The next thing I know, I'm leaping through the air and down the steep boulders as if they were clouds with M&M still on my back all while shrieking at the top of my lungs and flailing my arms in all directions.
It must have been quite a sight to behold.
I'm pretty sure that was a new record for spider freak outs on my part.
I must have run screaming like that for a good 1/4 mile.
It was like I was not in control of my body, it just kept going down, down down, screaming in horror.
I could hear myself doing it, but I had no power to stop.
Finally the screams subsided only to be replaced with hyperventilation.
Horrifying memories of the nasty bugger charging at me kept playing through my mind and it felt like I could not breath.
I had been under attack, an attack of the worst possible kind.
I think I must have stopped shaking at some point before we got all the way off the mountain.
I did not stop to take pictures, but the image of that thing is seared into my brain.
I will never be rid of it.
In fact for two nights after the unfortunate event I lay awake at night unable to sleep thinking of it.
It caused me panic attacks.
I have never had a panic attack before, but I have a new found sympathy for those who have them.
And now a hike that I once loved has forever been ruined.
It will always be known to me hereafter as The Freakishly Huge Spider Trail.
I do not trust it anymore.
A part of me may have died...
