It's Hiking Season

I’ve never seen such busy, happy dung beetles as I saw on a hike I took Sunday the 15^th. Oh, boy! There was so much work to do on the trail what with all those sheep, goats, cows and horses roaming around. And I learned something about dung beetles. Their job is to return the dung to the earth from whence it came. Done properly this allows for preferable growth that the livestock enjoy eating. Left undone this opens the window to undesirable growth that the livestock do not like to eat. Go, dung beetles! (Is it just me or whenever you hear “dung beetle” do you picture the scene in “A Bug’s Life” that takes place in the street café? The waiter brings out a tray he holds high and shouts, “Who ordered the poo-poo platter?” All the dung beetles at the table wave their little arms.)

Spring in the mountains is so pretty. You see so many varieties of flowers with each level you pass. Anyway, for the first 15 minutes or so we passed clusters of wild Irises growing along the side of the path. They weren’t very colorful, sort of a dusty purple-gray, but their painted patterns were a joy to see in nature. The mountains were very green and lush. The herds of cows, goats, sheep and horses we saw were being well fed. Water ran freely from the various springs and runoffs and kept us company a short part of the hike and when we stopped for lunch. At least three hikers drank from the running water.

I liked Sunday’s group. There was a researcher (researching global warming) from Germany, two Americans and one Mexican from General Motors and Kim (a friend from the Embassy) and I. Usually Boris (our guide) has a second guide with him to take up the end of the string of hikers. He did not Sunday and we had to wait quite a while for a slower hiker to catch up occasionally. This did not really bother me. I was there to be in the mountains; I was in the mountains. The weather was perfect, I was comfortable, I listened to the birds (which reminded me of camping and how you could tell what time of day it was by how the birds sang), I watched a couple of curious herders of some sort watching us from a distant rim. They were just silhouettes, but it was so quiet we could hear them talk.

I hiked again the following Sunday and discovered that a rock can be such a cozy place to lie upon – that is, when one has been climbing for 3 hours. And I had a first on this hike. I was the last person to arrive to our destination. That was one of my fears before joining these hikes. It’s not that I mind being last, I just didn’t want to be holding  everyone else up. I almost didn’t climb to the top of Diplomat’s Peak at all. I was very tired. My body was tired, I was sick and tired of climbing and my mind was psyching me out. Two things got me to the top.

1. I told myself that I didn’t come all this way to stop early.

2. I overheard Boris saying that the women could wait here while the men went on up.

Uh, nope. That did it. Onward and upward. To the death! (Too dramatic?) When I reached the top, I took a shaky panoramic video then, after arranging my backpack just right, collapsed on a rock and shut my eyes for 30 minutes or so.

                                                The view from atop Diplomat's Peak

What led up to this? A long climb, of course. When we began, Diplomat’s Peak looked down beckoningly to us. It was splendid, it was inviting. After two and a half hours or so, it was looming over us. It was daunting, it was laughing at me.

                                               Diplomat's Peak (in the background)

During our hike we saw a lot of life. Wild garlic and mint are just a couple of the herbs that grow in these mountains. A few of us tasted them as we hiked. A German man commented to me about the odor the herds of sheep and goats release when they cross our path. It took me a while to realize just exactly which odor he was referring to. I, a reluctant city slicker, thought he was referring to the odor of which the sheep and goats themselves carried and relieved themselves. He was referring to the trampling of the mint, garlic, etc. It did fill the air magnificently.

About two hours into the climb I started getting a little grumpy. I was sweaty, I was, again, sick and tired of climbing. It was at this point that the gnats and bees  and other assorted flying critters became fascinated with their reflection in my sunglasses. Gnats you can swat at; with bees you have to be a little more creative and patient. At one point, something flew up my nose as I gasped for air (properly – through my nose). I had tissues, but it took a little work to free it. Poor thing tried to get out. It went the wrong way. Yes, I felt it. Did I mention I was already grumpy?

                                           Dog Roses and a narcissistic flying critter

Somewhere around the four hour mark (we were descending) a favorite scripture came to my mind. “Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill made low, the crooked straight, and the rough places plains.” I saw the beauty of this coming into my mind when it did, of course, but I couldn’t help but wonder why this particular scripture couldn’t have been fulfilled a couple hours  sooner. Looking back, I think that one miracle for the weekend was enough. We’re still here.