It doesn’t always go according to plan

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But things turned out good enough, I suppose. So, I was tasked with leading the Wednesday Walkers group hike yesterday, but I was pretty much out of fresh ideas. Since no one else had a better plan, I chose to do a Naugsol valley walk. We started with an unpleasant walk on the always busy Sawmill Road, then made our way through San Isidro to the valley path I had in mind. Except, it was blocked by a newly constructed fence. The flat way around that obstacle was flooded with water, so we headed up the hill. I figured we’d go up, around, and back down, but I figured wrong. No such route seemed to exist. So, we just continued on to the top of the hill, and as we descended the other side, I knew where we were once again. Our new route led us to the My Bitch trail, and that’s how we completed our 6.5K walk.

This week’s iteration of the Wednesday Walkers
Entering San Isidro via Sawmill Road. Should have gone the back way through Alta Vista.
Instead, we dodged cars, trucks, and trikes on the narrow road.
Over Bridge #1
And onto the comparatively quiet backstreets
No idea why this chicken crossed the road
Almost to the valley
Only to discover our normal route is blocked and we couldn’t find an alternative path
Time to explore some other options
A climb I hadn’t planned on, but it was not so bad
And our efforts were rewarded with views like this
And this
Rob is contemplating the age-old question of where do we go from here.
We wound up on My Bitch and ran into the landowner of this property. He invited us to take a rest and enjoy his view.
A very welcoming and friendly guy whose name I’ve already forgotten.
His humble abode
Ah, an eggplant
The bitchy high grass section of our trail
Nearing the end of the line
The route of our journey

Meanwhile, our preparation for the December 27 feeding in Alabang continues.

Boxes full of candy
Bags of rice, canned goods, and drinks are beginning to pile up.

Swan does the shopping, and I do the paying. This is just another aspect of our 50-50 relationship.

Swan cooks lunch, and I eat it. 50-50!

I’ve decided to start a new Wednesday evening routine by visiting a bar that is not in my regular rotation. I kicked off this effort yesterday at Cheap Charlies.

At one time, I was a regular here. I stopped coming when wine wasn’t available for Swan. They have now rectified that problem.
The view hasn’t changed
It’s nice to sit and watch the passersby. One of them looks a little familiar.
Nope, not her.
The inside view
All my old waitress friends are gone now, but the bartender and cashier still remember me.
And some Hash buddies stopped in as part of their weekly barhop

When it was time for some grub, we crossed the busy highway and dined at Sit-n-Bull.

I’d never heard of a pulled pork chef salad before, but I gave it a try. It was amazingly tasty, and I ate every last bite.

We did our nightcap next door at Wet Spot and had our usual pleasant visit with our regulars, Beth and Irene. Aine arrived just as we were leaving and missed out on the lady drinks. Oh well, actions have consequences.

Another day of goal achievement.

Now for some memories courtesy of Facebook:

Thirteen years ago, I lived a life of domestic bliss at my paid-for house in Columbia, South Carolina. Damn, I thought I would die there. I guess a part of me did.

Ten years ago, I shared this excerpt from a poem I liked:

For I shall always let thee do,
   In generous love, just what I please.
Peace comes, and discord flies away,
   Love’s bright day follows hatred’s night;
For I am ready to admit
   That you are wrong and I am right.

I read it to Swan this morning, but she didn’t find it nearly as funny as I did.

Seven years ago, in the fields outside of Pyeongtaek, they were harvesting a crop of giant marshmallows.

So, I posted this on my Facebook page yesterday and made some lefty heads explode:

Ex-wife #3 was especially offended. I guess calling Trump Hitler is okay, but don’t you dare say anything bad about Obama. Strange how that works.

I’m taking a break today from the losers in the Philippines and enjoying some photos from the good ol’ days I experienced back in the 20th century. Yeah, that’s what old people do, I know.

Humor time:

What the L is he talking about?
Ask your Aunt Flo from Redlands…
I toed you so!

This morning, while Swan was delivering candy to the school in Tibag, I took a 7K stroll through Barretto and Baloy and photographed every bar in town. Almost all of them were closed, of course, but we have over fifty bars to choose from here. That’s nearly a year of Wednesdays! I’ll share them in a separate post tomorrow.

And here’s one of those ’70s classics I loved back in the day. Hell, hadn’t heard it in years, and it still sounds as good as ever!

And the “first time hearing” response:

1 thought on “It doesn’t always go according to plan”

  1. I can see how discovering a blocked path could be annoying, but I can also see how figuring out the problem caused by the blockage could be an adventure. What’s your perspective? Have you ever thought that it might be nice for park authorities to label and maintain some official paths for local use so that you’re never in danger of losing old, well-known paths?

    I guess calling Trump Hitler is okay, but don’t you dare say anything bad about Obama.

    Or about his… wife.

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