susys running away to sea

"The rigors (sic) of an expeditionary lifestyle"

Friday, May 19, 2006

Second wind:

Unusually for me, that tightrope along the cliff ahead looks oddly alluring. Or is the prospect of sitting on sharp rocks for rather a long time losing its appeal? A load of people have come up the duneside, the older ones applauding each other for having survived the long haul. Time to seek solitude among the mountains, I think. Wearing glasses has its own hazards, and wearing varifocals has the disadvantage of being unable to see what is immediately beneath your feet. I now walk as if the woes of the world are weighing me down, my head bowed in misery, staring at the ground, watching that my adobe coloured, sand filled trainers aren't taking that final step to doom over the cliff edge. I exaggerate a bit - there is a pretty good, if rough, track to follow. But stray from it at your peril! Wow, I must be good! I'm striding on and on and on, up and down the pathway, peering from a vertigo-ly-challenged distance into the abysses on either side. I even hop up and down the rocks - another problem is judging distance. I'm on my own, and I'm loving it! Eventually, of course, some of the other (much younger, gratifyingly) people come along behind me - I'm the leader, forging a path through the wilderness, breaking new ground, etc etc. So I go on a bit more, and a bit more, but still they keep coming, so I stop. They're French, and take pictures of each other, same jokes - back a step, and another ... ho ho ho!

The sun is going down behind the distant high hill where C and R disappeared ages ago. If I look through the top bit of my binospecs, I can see where they are - a row of tiny black vertical spikes outlined along the top of the outcrop - people watching the sun go out. Turning 180 degrees, I see the moon rising. It's a full moon, and truly beautiful. The sun colours the mountains around, pinks, yellows, palest turquoise. The moon shadows the rocky valleys. This show is just for me. But I have to go back while I can see the track, and at the top of the dune again there are a couple of chaps with radios - we aren't allowed to stay up there all night, and they'll be counting us all back. Eventually, stragglers wander back over the dune, C & R among them. Going down the track is a doddle, even with sand-filled shoes. There's Luis, grinning his age-ground teeth, and so back to SP, where we have already moved back to the original hostal. Tea with Chris, such a nice guy, who is off to Bolivia shortly, then R and I to dinner at one of the many eating places, with most of the tables out at the back, under the stars, an open fire sparking. Posted by Picasa


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