THE HIKE WHAT DONE ME IN

(How I coulda been a terrorist hiker)

Lovely slippery rocky forest

I was so excited about joining the Salt Spring Nature Trail Hiking Club
(http://www.saltspringtnc.ca/). On the application, I saw that there were three classifications of hikers: hikers, walkers and ramblers (who I assumed were doddering elderly people using walkers to walk down a flat road). So I joined the “hikers” who told me that today would be a moderate hike.

Can you see the hikers down there?

Our lost leader (blurry due to breathlessness)

About a quarter of the way into the walk, I noticed our leader pacing back and forth and looking around like he was lost. Should we call you our lost leader, I asked? He said, no, not lost, just uncertain as to which path to take. I would have taken the one leading down, but we began to climb and climb and climb. (I also noticed he blabbed a lot, which didn't engender a bunch of confidence.)


Nice old fence


Distance view to ferry passage


Then I found out that this was considered an “easy” moderate hike. The hike was through a gorgeous forest with narrow, steep trails (euphemism) going up, up, up, then doooooowwwwwnnn and back upupup again, which were covered with slimy, muddy, slick tree roots that moved underfoot, squarish mossy rocks that moved underfoot, the trails meandering right at the edge of precipices that dropped 20, 30, and 50 feet down to large, pointy black rocks jutting up out of the sea. After two hours, we came to a collection of larger, slick rocks overlooking the sea where we ate lunch. (No, I did not stop to take photos of the precipices with rocks at bottom.)

Aside: I think Freud must have been a hiker which is where he developed the term “penis envy,” because try as I might, I could not find a place to go to the bathroom without being in full view of 21 other people.



6,000-year-old tree

On the way back, we stopped several times to see some 6000-year-old trees, a copper mine, and a nice old fence where I might catch my breath. I thought, surely, we will take the shortcut back. It was beginning to get to me to watch people, obviously much older than I, trip the light fantastic over the narrow, steep, slimy, tree-root-ridden, slick-rock-strewn trails -- oh, but hey, the weather was with us -- it wasn’t a downpour!

About an hour and a half into the return hike, after stopping many times to catch my breath and recover from nearly catapulting off precipice after precipice, I began to hyperventilate. I knew I had to stop it immediately, because the next step would be to fall to the ground and scream at the unsuspecting fella who was pulling up the rear for me: LISTEN, MR. SEARCH-AND-RESCUE MAN, IF YOU DON’T (expletive begins with 'F' and ends with 'G') GET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE, I’M GOING TO (same expletive) (expletive begins with 'K' and ends with two 'L's) YOU!!!

The only saving grace was that someone had loaned me a trekking pole -- I coulda been a terrorist hiker!

Next hike, I think I'll be a rambler.