Hike # 2
Its raining outside right now, great news for Spain, since the lack of water has been top on Spain’s list ( right up with unemployment) of national concerns. It was less than a decade ago that drought had stressed Granada’s water supply, forcing the government to cut off water after 10 PM nightly. Things have changed since then, but house rules are still pretty stingy when it comes to using water. Anyways, the rain is well-received here. . . to say that it drives everyone back inside, and brings me here, home in Edificio Brasilia.
Two weeks ago Jamie and I, and two other guys from our group, met up and took the bus up to the Sierra Nevadas for our 16 kilometer trekking trip with the University of Granada. We filed out of the bus, and I realized my mistake. I looked around. It was like walking into a Patagonia ad. Shock light staffs (high tech walking sticks), Bulging brand name backpacks, stuffed with various uneccesary hiking survival essentials, not to mention a dozen or so GPS units out. These were the kind of people I avoided, the kind that would walk up to me and talk equipment asking with a loaded tone, “So, what’s your view on carbon stays?”
My eyes finally rested on our group, who seemed to be in the same, expressionless state as I was. Graham, still on a hangover from the night before, blinked at the provided map, “What does it mean ‘duration 6.45 hours? I thought this was like a two hour thing.” Rick was punching the projected distance into the distance converter of his phone. “Sixteen kilometers, ten miles. . . that’s not so bad,” he offered weakly, “hey does anyone have water? I forgot.” Jamie and I looked at each other, then our tennis shoes, which had immediately called attention from the guide, who remarked to the whole group the necessity of hiking boots. This was going to be a long hike.
Optimistic
Another surprise was that even though this was a University sports program, the majority of hikers, the University faculty, were over twice my age, and probably twice as fit. On the bright side, it’s a lot easier to climb up a 1,280 meter summit when the person in front of you is a sprightly eighty-year-old bounding over boulders. It brings a strange new motivation.
Anyways it turned out to be surprisingly marvelous hike. We did a break for lunch, and instead of powerbars, energy drink and sandwiches. . . we were surrounded by wine. everywhere. In the most literal of terms, it was a fiesta in the middle of the Sierra Nevada wilderness. . I watched speechless as riojan wine and artisan chorizo sausage with a paring knife was passed around for community consumption, and when they finally broke out the chocolate for dessert, I began to wonder why I never had brought this approach to hiking in the past. Next week we’re bagging the powergel and Luna bars, and stopping by Mercadona to feast like the Spaniards. Rioja, anyone?
My favorite part of the hike was talking for a few hours with Lenette ,NATO interpreter who just came back from working with the US relief in Kosovo. Spanish has amplified, not only allowing conversation with the Spaniards here, but has been a link enabling conversation with people from other countries like Germany, Belgium, Morroco, and Bosnia, to name a few. It was funny to encounter, when we visited France, people who spoke French and Spanish, but not English, and realize that we could still communicate without needing English.
Beyond the excursion this weekend, I’ve spent some time making trip arrangements for Semana Santa to visit Alexis, who is currently in school in the beautiful town of Lugano, Switzerland. I’m starting in Basel, and departing in the south, in Milan, couchsurfing on the way down.
No comments:
Post a Comment