My husband is an amazing man. His nature is sweet and compassionate, humble and soft -- happy, the happiest person I know. He is also what seems to me, completely fearless.
He's done some of the craziest things I've heard of; jumping out a helicopter to ski down mountains in Alaska, and marrying me are two on the list.
Though lets move away from that to talk about hiking.
Hiking for me is going to Lake Roland in Baltimore and trekking the loop. Its a couple of miles, elevation of about 200 feet above sea level.
Hiking for the Swiss people (and Derek), straight up a 7,000 foot mountain--narrow pathways with huge drop-offs, rock slides, and farm animals....For him and the Swiss this is fun, fun, more fun, smoke a cigarette, eat some cheese, back to fun.
To me?...Death.
Trip on a rock? Dead.
Shoe comes untied? Dead.
Cow stampede? Dead.
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| Derek relaxing and taking in the beauty from 6,500 feet above sea level on Dent d'Oche -- about a 2,500 foot hike from the base. |
The day was super hot but beautiful -- so beautiful you'd think this would help put the mind into a better place. A place that feels less pain.
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| Me, almost to the "yogurt shack". Derek thought this was pretty funny.....until the tears started another 1,000 feet up the mountain. |
As my lungs exploded and sweat poured so hard from my pores, it felt like it was taking skin with it -- A pot-bellied old man carrying a baby using only one arm, the other one swinging holding a smoke— blew past me.
A woman with skin so browned and shiny I could have mistaken her for a small couch, the kind you always see in psychiatrist offices on TV. The kinda couch I was gonna need to lay on for the next year if I made it off this mountain.
The leather-lady had already conquered the hike and was sitting at the combination yogurt/cheese hut smoking. And then came the children-- many, little Swiss children gliding up and down the mountain like it was an escalator.
And then, everyone would watch the cows.
Cows -- LARGE, clumsy looking cows.
With their teeny-weeny ankles, can do it.
They climb from the top to the very bottom and back up again every season....so, I couldn't even keep up with a cow. (The show—offs)
Next to the heifers, Derek saw a sign that said the summit was only about another two hour hike up! -- that was roughly just (just) another 1,500 more feet! He was so excited. Mountains really, really excite him.
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| Dent d'Oche in the background (Mordor) |
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| Up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up....... |
Then down. ((((((((( Really down))))))))
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| Its hard to tell from the photo but my feet are just a few loose gravel inches from a couple hundred feet drop. |
After I looked down and saw how high up we were, saw how narrow the path was -- that if I tripped just a little I was gonna go tumbling down several hundred feet before a cow would break my fall, it was too much -- I plopped my big butt down and needed Derek to talk me out of my frozen state.
Had he been on his own he would have been to the top already, popping open the beer and delicious snacks he brought. Instead he held my hand all the way down the mountain, back to the yogurt shack, and bought me a cup of the freshest tasting cream with berries I never could have imagined existed -- in a place that looked like heaven, where I felt like hell.
We laughed about my wimpy-ness.
About all the old ladies smoking as they hiked up—all the babies doing it—all the pop-pops without those fancy kid carriers, all of them blowing up the mountain.
I blew up that yogurt cup, gratefully watched cows and felt relief -- and felt how pissed I was at the guy who wrote the guidebook that said this mountain was only a level 2–moderate hike.
I hate that guy.
I love my husband.
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| scooter rides make everything better |
And these cows
