River of Death

Just concluded my first solo busy night in the kitchen. Though the last few nights I have been Chef's assistant plating the european menu, and being kitchen commander (ordering the other cooks to make things and yelling at the wait staff for being too slow), tonight I was back on the Japanese menu. A slow night at first, Peter and I just talked about '80s action flicks and told jokes. Many thanks to Andy for most of the jokes I remember... Abruptly, the printer began a maniacal printing spree and simply would not give us a break. Damn that little machine. At one point I had three nabe on the stove, dumplings in the steamer, calamari and agedashi tofu in the fryer, and I was rolling a salmon roll. It was overwhelming at first, but somehow I managed to get everything out at the same time. On top of that, Peter complimented me on my sushi, saying it was better than the cook who's been here longest. Admittedly it was my best one to date, but I'm happy to say it was rolled in the midst of a culinary frenzy. I was slightly bummed that it was the last order, cause I was ready for more!

A few days ago on my day off I took a hike above the intake. (Intake of water powering the hydrogenerator and supplying our plumbing) Exploring the area above, I felt like Bear Grylls climbing through the brush to reach the next bend in the river. I managed to make it as high as the river would allow. There was a split in the 'path' and leading straight up the steep hill was a dry river bed. Looking back I know this is where I made wrong decision. I made my way up the treacherous path with a strong desire to reach the mountaintop. With every step up the crumbling surface, I could hear the rocks I had been standing on moments before tumbling down the hill. At times it was like being on a treadmill, the rocks simply sliding down and not allowing to make any progress. Up and up I went until I came around a bend and 50 feet in front of me was a 150 foot cliff. Impenetrable forest closed in on either side and I quickly realized this was the end of my climb. As scary as the climb was, the decent was truly the most dreadful part of the journey. I could hardly keep my feet under me as the torrent of rocks and gravity swept me down the hill. Twisting my knee, cutting up my legs and bruising my butt was nothing compared to the fear of getting caught in a landslide. Luckily I made it back down to the river with minor cuts, but as I forded the freezing river, my knee started to hurt. Navigating the slippery rocks with a bad leg was difficult, but I was just thankful to be off the dry river of death.
Knee feels fine now, but I dont think I'll be going up there anytime soon. I'll have to find a different path to the peak...