Dragons Have Long Backs
Last Sunday, a few of us hiked a trail called Dragon’s Back. Along the way, a giant spider hung over a part of the trail. The trail was only wide enough for one person, so to cross, we had to duck under the spider one at a time.
When we first came up to the spider, we gawked at it for a bit. Well, first, someone pointed out its existence, then we gawked at it for a bit. “Spider!” “Where? Where?” “There!” “Oh.”
The spider was gigantic — if this were a conversation I’d use my hands to show you how big. But it was far too big for anyone to pass under it without mustering up emergency reserves of bravery. It was mostly black — I don’t know if it was a black widow though. I should have paid more attention to the pictures in those Doring Kindersley books. And finally, the spider was in the center of its web, which had such neat angles and evenly drawn open spaces between each line of...silk? The spider dangled over the trail like a gatekeeper, no doubt vetting us for whether we were worthy of entry into this part of the mountain.
I wish I took a photo of it, as I have been taking a lot of photos recently. But I made a quick calculation in my head — there’s not much point in documenting anything if I die. Well, now I’m alive to tell the story, and the proof is missing. I can imagine how time travelers must feel when they can’t take any evidence with them to their own time, and no one believes them. I guess you’ll have to rely on this approximation of reality for reference.
Anyways, I’m making quite a big deal about this part of my weekend, dramatizing an ordinary event into a larger than life story about life, death, and barriers to entry. The real spider, rather than the one in my imagination or in a game, really was calm and restful. It may or may not have been lethal, but it was peaceful. All of it was — the spider, its web, the trees. Walking through the trail was peaceful.
Some photos from the rest of the hike: