Robyn Hoodie, the Virgin Diary - Chapter 32: Up, Up We Go, Till We Go Down!
Created | Updated 6 Days Ago
Chapter 32: Up, Up We Go, Till We Go Down!
It was still pretty dark when I got rudely awakened by Dad who opened the zipper in the flysheet of my tent, letting in oxygen and releasing adolescent fumes to the atmosphere. After Dad stopped coughing, he told me to get packed for the next four days of hiking and store anything unneeded (like excess clean clothing and electronic devices) in the car. Dropping just the one boxer short and the already dirty clothes into the trunk, I felt a bit cheated upon when seeing the large bags the girls had put there. Looks like I missed a memo when packing. I thought I would have to carry everything I packed all the time.
Given that we were going to find a campsite (and a tap for that matter) only every other day, we were instructed to fill up our water bottles and silicone rubber water bladders. The simple equation 1 litre of water = 1 kilo of additional weight meant that my backpack just gained six kilos during that operation. I suppose the others did so too, they are not going to get mine if they run out!(Note to self: Categorise under Famous Last Words.)
Because it was Sunday, we packed the outside of our packs with yesterday's baguettes. The Twins had needed all of their persuasive powers (and Google Translate) to let the baker part with all of his remaining stock, leaving nothing for the locals. (Six persons x four meals x one baguette per person per meal. You do the math.) I decided not to share my meme knowledge indicating the aging stages of French baguettes. (Hint: day 4 - Use to hammer nails in wood or add to your rock collection.) This was when Robyn found that choosing a backpack with no binding straps on the sides can be a problem. Her decision to store her baguettes horizontally under the lid came to haunt her every time we had to squeeze through somewhere narrow.
Thus packed and with the car (probably) safely parked at the local parking lot, we were ready to go. A look on the map showed that the programme for today consisted of 1000 metres of near-continuous ascent over a horizontal distance of some 12 kilometres. Again I decided not to impart too much of prior knowledge and be a spoilsport, like that it is a good idea to acclimatise over several days before sleeping at altitudes in the 2000-2500m range that I could see looming at the end of the day.
And off we went. At first we walked along a wide track through the valley for a bit, before turning left on a narrow track and up into a side valley that would lead us up to the mountain pass. (Eventually.)
As soon as the sun peeked over the mountains, the temperatures shot up, causing sweat to gush from every pore and fogging up my glasses. At least the wide-brimmed hats that Mom bought for us all prevented serious burning of my ears and nose. It also made clear to anyone passing that we belonged together.
My plan to woo the Twins by helping them tackle this strenuous hike was badly hampered by the fact that I had trouble keeping up with them while they hoppity-skipped up the rock-strewn mountain path. Maybe I have to switch to rowing instead of steering the boat after the holidays. I can clearly use some more leg strength and agility. My gentlemanly offer to help them lift their packs for them when putting it on had already taught me that their packs weren't any lighter than mine.
A nice, cool, but distinctively wet feeling along my lower back heralded the premature demise of the water bladder inside my backpack. Apparently there are limits to the amount of compression it could withstand. That's two litres down the proverbial drain. Since I was already wearing all my remaining clothes, I didn't have to worry about wet clothes inside my pack.
The risk of altitude sickness was automatically resolved by the fact that the mountain pass at 2500m was too rocky to pitch any tent without a jackhammer, so we had to go down the other side quite a bit before a (sort of) suitable spot presented itself as a tent symbol on my navigation app. In this case, 'suitable' meant 'somewhere large enough to fit three tents with something resembling grass.' It also included thistles and loads of flies. It didn't include the property known as 'level', so I used two of the baguettes to try to prevent my sleeping mat (and myself) from sliding down to the back end of my tent all night.
Before that we first had to have dinner. The last few weeks before this holiday, Mom's food dryer had been running day and night, to provide us with lightweight, compact meals. The only downside is that you need quite some water to revive it into something edible. It was now that I mentioned the loss of the water from the leaking water bladder, proposing rationing by not spending water on the dishes. This reduced our choice of meals to anything without sauce, so we ended up eating rice with vegetables, nuts and raisins from our big plastic mugs. An old sailor once told me that if you are prone to suffer from sea sickness, it is best to eat plain white rice. (Because it does not stain the side if the ship like tomato sauce does.)
Because it was getting dark and cold pretty quickly, we went into our tents to 'sleep'. I went to sleep once the battery level of my phone was down to 35%.
Around midnight I was woken up by a massive BANG! right under my head. After some confused grappling for light, it turned out that my ultralightweight sleeping mat had decided to delaminate internally, leading to a bulge that resembled an integrated pillow. This seemed to be an improvement at first, up to the point where three more bangs turned the whole upper part of the mat into a balloon. Without body pressure balancing on the balloon part, all the air left the remaining bit, effectively putting me on the floor (and further crushing the baguettes).
My balancing act, combined with a three-piece snoring orchestra next door (I am not going to name names, Dad) kept me awake until first morning light. Well, it's not as if I need any sleep anyway. . .
I hope we are eating soup tonight, because my stabilising baguettes have turned into croutons overnight.
