Welcome to the Tomb

*** continued from previous post ***

Right about then I spot a sign for "Krakland's Tomb".

(I don't think that was the real surname, but it will suffice for our story.) Just a small blue sign with an arrow pointing up a tiny road that spiraled up the mountain. Finally, something interesting! Who can pass up something like that? I mean, it's a TOMB! I could have ignored a sign alerting me to "Krakland's Grave", or "Krakland's Final Resting Place", or "Krakland's Remains", but a TOMB? I would have sooner passed up a road-side stand giving out free money.

Plus -and I can't emphasize this enough - your Mother had begun to nervously tap her rock against the back of my head. I knew a little diversion would do us both good.

So, I turn up my least favorite surface - a gravel road - (I KNOW what I said, so hush) and carefully wind our way up the side of said majestic mountain. After a bit the roadway widened into a packed-dirt parking lot and sure enough there's a sign pointing to "Whose-his-head's Tomb".

So. Flippin'. Bizarre. Especially at 8:00 in the morning and malnourished to boot.

Here, on the side of the mountain, nestled with boulders, and dirt, and scrub vegetation, and the primal stink of the wild - with absolutely nothing else around - is a beautiful garden ringed by a high, wrought iron fence. A garden full of flowers and benches and presumably a Tomb, but the gate is locked. Evidently you can't visit the dead until 9 AM on weekdays.

We could peer through the fence and speculate on what we weren't able to see. It looked fascinating and very Zombie-ish at the same time. I mean who hasn't seen countless movies wherein a nice couple on a huge, futuristic motorcycle accidentally wanders up the side of a mountain to an elaborate tomb only to be eaten in the next scene? Amiright? It was just so utterly cliche' it made my fillings hurt.


*** the journey continues tomorrow and remember, comments are always appreciated ***