Tag Archives: adventure

Blisters, colds and rest days … 

As you walk the Camino there are two topics of conversations that crop up continuously… one is BLISTERS… the other REST DAYS… everyone has a story … this is ours…

35 Years!… It has been over 3 decades since I had a blister… Hell I thought I was immune. We hiked and hiked and hiked our butt’s off in preparation for the Camino… I had nary a hot spot. BUT Day 9 – I’ve got a painful blister on the ball of my foot… caused by sheer arrogance. I noticed the hotspot when we stopped in a little village 3 km from our ‘destination’… a quick fix and off we went. Could have stayed in that village but, no… had to press on. So, my reward for being pig-headed was a dime sized blister. The fix was to pierce the blister with needle & thread… leaving the thread in to facilitate draining as it healed…. build up the area around the site with moleskin – taking the pressure off the blister. 
Even with the ‘fix’ we had to cut the next day (day 10) short. By noon I was in enough pain to know I needed to rest my foot. The tiny village we stopped at had no Farmacia. When the hostess of the Albergue learned of my problem she left with a “momentito” and came back quickly with 3 feminine pads… in broken English she explained that other peregrinos had used them on the insoles of their shoes to cushion the blistered area. I was skeptical but foregoing my ‘macho’ instincts I took them with a quick “gracias”. Although skeptical, the more I thought about it the more it seemed like a good idea. I could modify the pad by cutting a ‘my blister’ sized hole, further relieving pressure. After several attempts at proper placement – i.e.- the hole was centered under the blister… it worked, brilliantly and would remain in my shoe until the blister was completely healed. I was back on track… a few km warm up and then I could work through the discomfort & into a regular rhythm.
All seemed on track as my blister healed. Day 12… Tilly walked while complaining of a ‘minor cold’. That morning 3 fellow peregrinos had taken the bus to Burgos ( the next large city) in order to get one of them to a doctor because her ‘minor’ cold gone major. Now it was Tilly’s turn…over the night she went into full blown suffering (as bad as any ‘man-flu’ I’ve ever had). It made no sense for her to walk 18 km into Burgos. Without objection (yes I win a few on occasion), I decided to reserve a hotel and then take the bus to Burgos. Only thing as we soon discovered, there was no bus service. Thanks to the charming & lovely owner of the local panderia [bakery] who offered to call a taxi from Burgos – a 20 minute wait, we arranged transport. Although I knew we would pay for both directions of travel it did not matter. Hell, we had paid through the nose to for a taxi in Paris to catch a bloody train … this was about Tilly … her health first, budget later. The driver arrived promptly. His skill and deftness at navigation had us to our hotel within 20 minutes. 
Arriving at 0920. I spoke to the receptionist… explaining that we were early, that Tilly was sick and I asked to leave our backpacks until we could check in. The receptionist looked at our reservation, said there was a bigger room available immediately for 20 euro more AND it faced the cathedral. 20 euros seemed a small extra to get Tilly into rest mode. Tilly was quickly ensconced in the huge master bed and asleep by 10:00. The outer room had a second smaller bed where I could sleep without concern of waking/disturbing her. She slept all that day and night only waking to have dinner. I took the time to wander the plazas around the cathedral… 
Next morning I was expecting a good recovery. Only a few minutes passed and I knew another day of rest was needed. The hotel was fully booked – a holiday weekend it seemed. I hoped on the iNet quickly booked another room in a highly rated hotel 1/2 a km away. Although it was not as big a room, it had two beds, comfortable and had the added benefit of being 1/3 less. Another day of rest.
Today was day 16 and with Tilly feeling better, we set out. The pace started slow, picked up and within 3 hours we had cranked out 10+ km. We stopped for a brief snack and refreshment. I could tell Tilly was not yet up to snuff. Even tho’ it was 70+ F she moved into the sun and complained of being cold. I knew it it was time to stop… we will walk again tomorrow…. increasing our distance in small amounts daily.  

MAGIC on the Camino

For us, the MAGIC started as soon as we began to dream of walking the Camino….making the final decision to do it, planning, preparing physically, mentally, and spiritually, and finally, setting off. From the very beginning, things just fell into place so naturally….so easily….a reaffirmation that we were on our “life path.” 

Now, starting week 4 of our long walk, the MAGIC keeps happening in all kinds of ways. MAGIC on the Camino is when:

– the sun rises behind you and gilds the window frames of the most mundane of buildings, making them sparkle with gold highlights, bringing them to life.

– you meet someone on the trail who is a reflection of something you don’t like about yourself, thus providing valuable insights into yourself and the time to ponder them.

– the “hospitalero” in one of our albergues who gave us “feminine pads” for our blisters which actually worked to our great surprise!

– a hawk soars overhead in the wind currents over the meseta.

– we reach our albergue just before the clouds part and the rain begins to fall in buckets

– having passed by most churches with “oohs” and “ahhhhs”, you pass Santa Maria del Camino in Carrion de los Condes, notice the open door and know without a doubt you have to go in. Once inside, the energy of this 12th century church with the music of Ave Maria playing and the many candles burning….was simply overwhelming for me. Why? I have no idea but it elicited much emotion. We sat there a good 30 minutes. The feelings stay with me, even now. Truly MAGICAL!

– the concept of “time” falls away. Time no longer drives your decisions. It literally falls away. It is truly MAGIC. We walk all day, sometimes plodding, sometimes marching, loitering, strolling, singing, laughing, intellectualizing, emoting…… time passes. We are fully in each and every moment. 

– decision-making also falls away. There are no decisions to make because when the need for a decision arises, the decision makes itself. For example, reaching Calzada de Coto today, there was an alternate scenic route to take which was along a dirt track. We wanted to take it but considered that the rain yesterday would have made it a very muddy track. We decided on the senda. When we set off this morning, I was feeling heavy in my mind….I was plodding along the senda, the path for pilgrims that follows the highway and the highway was busy – lots of diesel fumes and noise. We turned off to take the scenic route instead of staying on the senda as planned. Immediately, I was happier, lighter….my legs no longer plodding, a spring in my step. That was magic!!! There is no point in making plans or decisions – they are being made by a higher power!!

– your feet no longer hurt.

– you find coffee at just the right moment.

– you find out that they do make scrambled eggs in Spain and FINALLY learn how to order them in Spanish.

– you hear the sound of bells and see a shepherd, his dog, and a huge flock of sheep getting ready to cross the road in front of you…a magical photo opportunity.

– you finally discover that “Smell of Spain” you’ve been noticing along the way and asking everyone about is the anise seed growing wild along the roadways!

– you walk by a mercado and find pistachios and cheerfully crack, eat, and spit out shells as you walk, making the steps whiz by.

– you see this little silver tube on the ground. The you see it moving. It is a centipede, heading from my side of the road to Michael’s. You stop to watch as it meanders over and around objects blocking its path. You continue on and see 6 more in a short period of time. It leaves you asking, “Why are the centipedes crossing the road?” As yet, we have no answer for that!

– you walk the whole day threatened by rain but don’t have to break out the rain gear.

Magic on the Camino is the gift of being fully in each moment….appreciating and taking note of every new smell, taste, image, thought, and sound. The cares of your world fall away. You learn important things about yourself. Magic on the Camino is meeting fellow walkers from all over the world, sharing smiles, sharing meals, trying to communicate and laughing over the efforts. Magic on the Camino is being with the one you love, walking together in all conditions, learning the lessons that are there for you.

FASHION ON THE CAMINO

In good weather, layers are the best. Sleeveless first, then short-sleeved, followed by long sleeves. Strip as needed.

For cool windy days or for light rain, this wind jacket we bought last minute in Laramie WY has been a godsend!

When it rains steadily a poncho which covers everything, works the best. Shorts are best because bare legs dry much faster than leggings.

And when the rain stops, all you do is flip the front of the poncho back over your head where it can dry somewhat and allow you to cool off. That poncho kept me cozy and warm today for the first half of the day. The cap is a MUST as it keeps the raindrops off my glasses. The “mussar ” (scarf), my favourite from Oman, is also a MUST as it keeps your neck warm, soaks up sweat, dries quickly, and works as a blanket in the plane too. The little orange “baby wash-cloth” (thank-you Leah) is my “snot rag”. There’s already way too much tissue deposited all along The Way!

Today is Day 21. We are at the halfway point in Sahagun, just a few days before we get to Leon. We have had only one rainy day before today, earlier on in the walk. The MAGIC abounds on the Camino but that’s a whole other blog!!

6 DAYS OF WALKING

6 Days of walking, 115 km plus or minus a few, approximately 20 km/day. Here is a photo gallery of the best these 6 days had to offer.

Roncesvalles to Zubiri:

Elevation map

Breakfast at the pub.

Leaving Roncesvalles after breakfast just as the sun was rising.

Cows in the mists of early morning.


Day 3 Zubiri to Trinidad de Arre

Day 3 was a rainy day. We experienced a lot of “slippery slopes” and heard later that some poor soul had broken an ankle on said slippery slope. 

Always pretending but actually this time Michael was suffering from a sore knee.


 

I love cats. Michael doesn’t. When we stopped for coffee and to get out of the rain for a while, this cat popped up onto Michael’s lap looking for a handout.

These people were taking pictures of two young Korean men, one in a wheelchair, the other carrying a fully loaded pack, pushing the wheelchair. Our first lesson on the Camino…DON’T JUDGE! Imagine our surprise when later, the trail narrowed and became muddy, the young man in the wheelchair popped out of the chair and helped carry it quite a distance, walking quite nimbly. Apparently they are making a documentary about the accessibility of the Camino (or something like that.)

The bridge into Trinidad de Arre. We saw a 12th or 13th century convent/church and decided to stay there. Asked if they had a private room – they did. It was a beautiful building and we made some new friends who informed us that there was to be a fiesta that evening and bulls running in the street the next day.

Sure enough, there was a fiest that night with fireworks, music, food, and carnival rides. Before that though, we encountered this young man chasing an excited, screaming group of kids with his bull on wheels.

Day 4 Trinidad de Arre to Zaraquigui

Nearing Pamplona we walked around the walls of the old city.

….and through the gate into the city to search for a coffee.

Lunch break.

Day 5 Zaraquigui to Cerauqui

Our first taste of grapes – the harvest all around us.

At the top of the pass at Alto del Perdon. Spectacular!

Cerauqui where we stayed the night at the top of the hill!


Day 6 Cerauqui to Estella

The sun rising and illuminating the hills in the direction we were walking.

Such beautiful countryside. Constantly new vistas.

UP… UP … UP… AND FINALLY – OVER! Day 1 Camino de Santiago

05:45 the alarm chirps … SERIOUSLY?  I chose a bloody cricket sound for the alarm?… no matter… This is THE DAY …. the first day of our “camino” experience. THE DAY we have spent so much time preparing for. We know from reading and discussions with camino veterans that THIS – the SJPP (Saint Jean Pied de Port), France to Roncevalles, Spain – segment will be the hardest.

Yesterday we organized out packs, went shopping for b-fast (bananas & yogurt) and lunch (ham sandwiches, apples and mandarin oranges). All is ready … First light is an hour away and sunrise is at 07:50. We want to get an early start since on the route de Napoleon, we have 15 miles to walk with a vertical change of more than a mile (5742’)…. most is UP (4200’) and at the end 1542’ down. 

The vertical profile…


Our research reading and discussion with a Camino ‘veteran’ informed us that it would not be “EASY- 6 – 7 hours’’ as one local told us. Still we were confident in our preparations even tho’ the last ‘veteran’ we spoke with said, “IT is the HARDEST THING I/WE’VE ever done… you should hire a luggage transport to haul your packs…”. 
Truth is I expected something in between… I was right… Thankfully, our experiences in Switzerland on the Jacobsweg (the Swiss Camino) and two months ‘conditioning’ in Wyoming mountains would serve us quite well.
It is 06:30 and we are out the door & wandering our way along the Rue de Citadelle to the Porte D’Espagne… 


…we see someone ahead of us (a young Japanese girl who periodically stops – waits and then confirms the direction markers with us and rushes ahead again… UNTIL it is light… she no longer needs us and off she goes. Behind we see a ghostly figure following …

Immediately out of SJPP we start to climb from 557’ heading up to 4757’ before we descend. In the first 8km (5 miles) we climb 930m (3051’). It is UP & UP & UP … BUT we manage to crank it out by 9:30 … 3 hours! Not bad… 


NOW we have only 10 miles… and 1100’ to climb… We stop for a coffee at Orisson, visit with a couple from Winnipeg and had a great chat. We leave before them but later they overtake us and don’t see them again. From Orisson, the road continues constantly up and up providing unbelievable vistas and phenomenal views of the Pyrenees. The leaves are starting change and the colors are much richer than we are used to in BC and WY….a lot of vibrant rusty reds and burnt oranges. 


We didn’t expect so many pilgrims. We are never without their company, some friendly and wanting to connect, others loud and obnoxious and others wanting quiet and contemplation. We pass 2 fountains along the way and discover that’s where people congregate. It is hard hard work today but we both are feeling so very proud of ourselves. Along the way I (Mikal) turn and thank Tilly for insisting that we “TRAIN” … carry our packs, fully loaded up and down the hills and mountains of Wyoming… 
All the hard work/conditioning over the past 2 months is paying dividends. Over and over again we say to each other, “I’m so glad we worked so hard this summer and did all the hiking we did.” 


We are not among the fastest but , not all of those folks were carrying their full packs. Many had opted for the “send your pack over to the other side of the mountains” option. Those who were carrying full loads were of the younger crowd and they were moving much quicker. We met a young woman at one of our stops, from Norway who had just completed her PhD in veterinary medicine and had gotten a job as a scientist researching the brains of humans and animals. What a great young woman… then she left us in the dust…
It takes us another 5 hours to reach the high point, the Col Lepoeder. We take off our shoes to air out and relax our feet after all the exertion. We witness a couple in the midst of an argument – she is very tired and angry with her partner…. the very same couple will share the 4 bed cubicle with us at the monastery. They are from Oregon and turn out to be very likable… but at the moment she is not liking much. 
We rest for 15-20 minutes and head down the hill. We choose the most direct route which is straight downhill (the other route is ‘longer’… by about 1.5 km… we are not interested). The first kilometer is very steep with lots of loose rocks but, then levels out. We walk through beautiful beech forests … the path covered with the fallen leaves of autumn. It is a quiet walk as most of the others chose the easier, much longer path. 


We suddenly break out of the woods and finally arrive at the monastery of Roncesvalles. It is now 10 hours since we left SJPP. What an experience! We are weary… have sore muscles – calves and quads mostly but, NO blisters. We check in… 8 Euros each for a bed… Yes we want dinner (10 Euros each) … YES and breakfast too (5 Euros each). 36 Euros for the two of us well under our $95/ day budget. Our ‘credencials’ are stamped (proof that we actually walked over the Pyrenees as though our pictures and descriptions and weary demeanors aren’t proof enough). Once paid we are told to take our shoes off (thankfully we have our crocs to change into) before heading upstairs to find our beds. We shower and then decide to wash dirty clothes in the laundry room. We are pleased to find the monastery crew will wash, dry and fold our laundry for 3.50 Euro ( about $5). The siren call of a beer and wine makes the choice to have them do our laundry easy…. Besides which we are well under budget for the day.
Our dinner (replete with wine) relaxes us… which means we are ready to crash, literally. Once we make it to the bunks I am out within 2 minutes; Tilly about 10, even though a group of obnoxiously loud Italians are arguing (or maybe they just talk load all the time). 
This has been a day I will remember… and don’t think I will ever want to repeat. 

DONE WITH PLANES BUT NOT TAXIS AND TRAINS

Arrival at CDG airport north of Paris 05:50. We’d been flying for 11hrs including a short layover in Atlanta to switch planes. While not uncomfortable, it was difficult to get much rest (sleep was fitful). NEXT we had to get ourselves to Saint Jean Pied de Port (SJPP) France (on the eastern side of the Pyrenees). Our first hiking day would see us crossing the Pyrenees into Spain. BUT for now we had to find the most efficient (and hopefully cheapest) way to get there. I can hear it now “Dummy – why didn’t you reserve ahead… and save yourself the headaches. After spending numerous hours on varied websites ( travel agents, French railroads, Airlines etc) I found it too complex… and had a sneaking suspicion that it was much easier than what I was seeing online… SO I opted for the ‘let’s just get there and then …’ approach. Having worked in the past, I had faith it would once again. Besides which, the approach has always led to spontaneous , interesting and exciting adventures… which have become some of our most cherished memories… me squatting along a roadside, map in hand trying to communicate with an Omani local about the best road around the desert… pointing at the map and scratching a better map in the sand he points to a road, then his truck – shakes his head YES, then points at my rental car and shakes his head NO. Til sits in the car and takes photos. We still laugh about how crazy we were.

Anyway… after securing our baggage we head off to the nearest train station. The representative was incredibly lovely. We could wait until 12:58 pm, take the train from the airport, make two changes and arrive in SJPP around 7-something pm that night. OR if we left right away we could catch the local train (“20 euros” she said, “but you will have leave immediately to make it”) into Paris then catch a Fast train from Montparnasse in the middle of the city… arriving at 2:50 pm OR we could “take a TAXI (“maybe 50 euros”, she said, “ would get you there faster – 30 minutes drive and is easier than making changes on the local trains”). Tired and starting to feel the weariness we opted for the more expensive BUT “easier” Taxi option and booked the Fast Train from Montparnasse, headed off to find the taxi. We realized that the taxis all use meters.. and the ‘50 Euros’ was an estimate with a reasonable range of variation (maybe 10%?). With confidence we boarded a taxi with a French-African lady driver … disdainful at first, she warmed to us as the trip progressed (and the meter climbed to new and higher amounts also).

It was 8 am. We had until 9:58 to reach our destination and board the train. Our driver got us immediately into the left, fastest lane… piece of cake. As we approached Paris, the traffic built and slowed … and slowed … and – shit! We did not think about RUSH HOUR… BUT what the hey!… we had almost an hour and a half to get there. Soon the white-lining motorcycles and scooters were whizzing by us on the right… THEN the first of a half dozen police cars lights and sirens blaring woo-ahh woo-ahh squeezed through the space between our lanes. I was thinking “ accident, be a little delay … BUT what the hey!… we still have an hour and 15 minutes to get there”. Traffic slowed again… people were jumping lanes… and our lady driver started to nervously pound on the steering wheel. She programed her GPS to find a way through. I could see that it was taking us to a very large roundabout… and suspected it was the Arc de Triomph – the quintessential TRAFFIC MESS and terrifying FRENCH TAXI RIDE – I’ve seen pictures and movies, AT THAT POINT we got the EXPERIENCE. AS the meter climbed past the 50 euros mark, I thought “what the hey we get a hell of a ride, too!”

With Til’s broken French and our drivers broken English we made jokes about her courageous driving and the stupidity of other drivers… She knew that we had a train to catch and as time counted down, her driving became more and more aggressive. We careened into the Arc de Triomph roundabout… slashed across five or six rows (although there are NO rows just a gaggle of drivers going every which way but, generally counter clockwise around the Arc) of cars to the center… drivers from other roads doing the same… (they don’t look at the oncoming traffic, as though what they don’’t see will avoid them) .. then at the 2nd or maybe 3rd road we slashed across traffic again to exit the roundabout onto a narrow street. A delivery truck was taking up almost 3/4’s of the street and our driver quickly slid alongside and passed. I wondered – what if the driver of the truck opened the door!

We were now down to 40 minutes to go and still 15km from the train station.
The GPS in the taxi not only told us how far but, also the eta… I saw 09:44 then 09:46 then 09:48… barely 10 minutes to find and board our south bound train… The next train would be the one we could have waited for at the airport. I was not the only one nervous about getting to the station on time. Our now HIGHLY motivated (evident by her driving & I am sure driven by a desire for a big “AMERICAN TIP”) driver was by this time whipping through small narrow side roads, cutting off other cars, taxis, and motorcycles/scooters. The eta began to fall… 09:45… then 09:42… then 09:40… then 09:38… twenty minutes to spare! We didn’t quite make it with 20 minutes but 17 was close. As we pulled up to the station, I checked the meter. As Tilly was congratulating our driver on an exciting and amazing ride, I quickly calculated a 10% tip then added 5 euros (she did get us there AND with enough time to find the train) and handed her 95 euros (so much for the “maybe 50 euros”) and bailout.

The train station at Montparnasse was not too crowded but we still floundered a bit until we asked an attendant for directions… Spur 5 she said … YES we found it … then we looked at the train – it didn’t say any thing about SJPP. Confused we asked another attendant nearer the train. Turns out there were two trains traveling together and they would split at a stop along the way. Our train was the first one. We hoofed it down to the first train, located the first car with a #1 on it… yes we bought “first class tickets” … more space, more comfort, less people, less noise – therefore what two weary, approaching grumpy travelers needed. We barely had enough time to get seated, put our backpacks away, sit down, and the train was moving.

As it accelerated, our ears would plug up and unplug as we entered and exited tunnels… I realized the speed of the train compressed the air in the tunnels… my phone boinged … a message from SNCF (French railroad – I had down loaded their app months before) “Congratulations you have broken the 300 km per hour barrier”.
The country side whizzed by … tired we settled in, read our iPads for a bit (1st class also includes inet – not great but, functional)… soon we became drowsy and set an alarm for 15 minutes before we were to arrive at our transfer station. We managed to grab a one hour catnap before the alarm awakened us. We are arrived at Bayonne and had about an hour to wait.

Perched track-side on a bench, we began to notice all these backpackers with hiking poles gathering on the siding. Seems, we were not the only ones starting a long walk. Soon we were engaged in conversation with a lady and her husband from Washington state. Having spent time traveling in Washington we were able to keep the conversation going almost until time for departure. As the train approached, backpackers started to appear from all directions. Luckily we were able to board quickly and secure seats. By the time we departed it was almost standing room only for the rest of the passengers.

There are three stops between Bayonne & SJPP… one person got off at each stop and a few more boarded the train. We arrived at SJPP with a full load. Departing the train, Tilly looked at me and said “which way?” Laughingly I responded, “follow the pilgrims.”

MEDICINE BOW PEAK – A Soul Baring Experience

The most exciting (and exacting) of our “training hikes” began as we climbed Medicine Bow Peak at an altitude of 12,800 feet (3900 m) in the Snowy Range.

Driving to the trail head at Lewis Lake Campground. We hiked to the very top of the peak in this photo.

There are two ways to climb this peak: one way is from Lewis Lake, straight up. This is the steepest and most difficult and the one Michael chose for us to do, his memory serving him a bit hazily regarding the amount of scrambling this climb would require us to do. Michael had often mentioned this hike to me and really wanted to do it once more, with me. It was a compliment to me that he thought I would be able to do it. And so, full of excitement and with just a hint of trepidation on my part, we set off.

At the Lewis Lake Campground with Lewis Lake in the background. The pointy peak on the left is called Sugarloaf. We walked around it before starting the climb to Medicine Bow Peak directly behind Michael.

The trail during the first part of the hike was good.

It wasn’t long though until the trail started to climb, gradually getting steeper and steeper until we started encountering switchbacks, boulders to scramble over, and steep side hills.  All good at this point. We passed an 81 year old woman who wanted to climb this peak one last time. She was supported by her whole family…kids, grandkids and spouses! I was to remember her later on in the climb  for she became my role model….my mantra became, “If she can do it, so can I!”

Getting closer to the top. This would be the last photos we took until after we reached the summit and started down the other side (the ‘saner’ side, we discovered.) Behind Mike is the summit and the ridge we walked all the way into the distance.

Still smiling at this point. In the background is where we came from. Still not all the way to the top but getting there!

Every time we turned the corner of another switchback, I thought we’d reached the top. No such luck. I didn’t really know what to expect. Finally though, we made the last turn to find….not a trail but…..a boulder field. Some of these boulders were as big as small houses…some the size of the rooms in a house….with crevices….big black holes….between them. No problem. Don’t call me a whimp! I started off. Pretty soon the poles were folded up and given to Michael to carry as I needed both hands to make my way from boulder to outcrop back to boulder again. A few times I just sat on a boulder contemplating how on earth I would find my way through. (Later on Michael labeled that behavior as “freezing up” and as a “panic attack”  to which I took great offense!) In this moment though, the last 100 yards, he was a warrior, my warrior, and gallantly offered his hand and guided me safely through the boulder field to the top, promising that once we got to the summit, there would be a good trail down. Just a side note here: I wasn’t the only one experiencing difficulties. There was a young father waiting patiently on a boulder with his golden retriever beside him. Apparently the dog had found it difficult to keep track of where all four of his legs were and had already fallen several times into crevices and …  there were other “grey hairs” content to sit at the foot of the boulder field. I should have paid more attention. What was I thinking???

While I rested at the top, averting my eyes from the drop-offs all around me, Michael went searching for “the easier trail” down the other side. We were making a grand loop, intending to end up where we started at Lewis lake. He found the trail just beyond another boulder field. The boulders here though weren’t as large or as extensive as the previous ones. We found the trail and started making our way down….again Michael had to help me around the more precipitous ones.

The trail on the other side, descending. This side was much easier.

Beautiful views….

…still lots of boulder fields to scramble over…but these boulders were much smaller…

…..trail markers set into cairns all the way down.

It was a long way down…not as steep as the way up….just a constant downhill spread over a longer distance. We met lots of hikers coming the opposite way, asking always how much farther. One woman told us that she was afraid to go up the way we had – that she’d heard how difficult it was. That made me feel pretty good about what I’d accomplished.

By this time, I was getting tired. I had exerted a great deal of energy on the climb up and hadn’t really rested other than a few short stops. There was as yet no end in sight. We came to a section where the trail all but disappeared, turning into large, loose rocks on a steep, steep slope. The so-called trail did a major hairpin, turning back on itself. At that turning point, Michael was standing right on the edge….nothing behind him but blue space….waiting for me. I had no sure footing, a poor sense of balance, nothing to hold onto, and….did I mention how tired I was? My poles were no help in all that waste of rock!!! What to do?? I became spider-woman without the super-powers. I sat on my butt and scrabbled my way across the hairpin. No way was I going out on that point and falling to almost certain death! What else did I do? I got supremely, silently angry. That anger built up as I made my way down the remainder of that descent from hell. My mantra of “If she can do it so can I,” changed into, “How could Michael not know, not remember this part of the climb? How could he have forgotten that huge boulder field? Why would he bring me here knowing how frightened I am of downhill scrambling (ever since breaking my leg in three places trekking in Nepal?”

Thi is the last part of the descent from hell. It was much worse than it looks!!

At that point, as I finished my “spider walk”, Michael made the inopportune comments that I referred to earlier in this blog. Words like “freezing up” and “panic attack” were uttered with a total lack of awareness, on his part, of the volcano I’d become. At that point, nothing was said. We each remained silent until we were once again on firmer ground.

We sat here and rested after the descent from hell, before the ‘firmer ground’ was reached. The closest lake is Marie lake and just a bit farther is Mirror Lake.

THE SALVOS BEGAN…..we started firing shots until finally, Michael turned, looked at me and said, “Look into my eyes. Do you really believe I would ever knowingly put you into danger?” If you have met Michael, you know his eyes are the most beautiful blue eyes. At this moment, they were tunnels reaching directly into his soul….I got the message of his love loud and clear….I could see and feel it with so much intensity. The anger dissolved into tears which accompanied me the rest of the way down.

The last mile or so down to Marie and Mirror Lakes.

By the time we reached the bottom and filled up our camelbacks at the pump at Mirror Lake, we’d hiked 11-12 km. I was totally bagged – couldn’t walk another step. Michael left me sitting at the water’s edge, contemplating our hike, while he hoofed it back the 4-5 km left to Lewis Lake where we’d started and where the truck was parked.

At the bottom right you can see the edge of a small ‘fishing dock’ which is where I waited for Michael.