My last day hiking (for a while)

It’s up to your own perception, whether you call it a challenge or just a hike.

It’s already 12.30, but I still have a bunch of hours to go. I go to the DOC office in town – oh, the town is Arthur’s Pass by the way – and ask for the highlights of the area (typical, silly question asked by every person entering that door). The reply includes what I was looking for, Avalanche Peak trail. A steep, not-too-long climb up to a peak right behind the township, with gorgeous views of all the area, including surrounding peaks both on the North and South side. Checking out the forecast for the next few days, I discover that tomorrow is not supposed to be what I’d call a fine day: heavy rains and snow showers lowering. First, I gotta cancel tomorrow's night at the hostel. No way I’ll stay a full day closed there. Second, I must hurry up and take the most out of the park, before to leave. And before it starts with that heavy rains stuff. I tell the ranger I’m gonna go up there, by myself. “Are you aware that it could be extremely cold?”. “I know”, I reply. “Are you aware that usually the hike takes between 6 to 8 hours to return?”. “Yep, just read it!”. “Ok, so, first, hurry up if you really want to go up. Then, tell somebody you know what you’re gonna do. Finally, take up with you food, water, and heavy clothing. Remember that heavy rains are supposed to start by late afternoon”. Uh, like to say “If you really want to die young, at least bring some food and clothing to let you enjoy your last hours.. and don’t say I didn’t tell you!”.

5 minutes later I was back to the hostel, where I wanted to let the manager knows that I was going up there and, if something should have gone wrong, call the police, fire department, CIA, FBA and the Interpol. It’s never enough, you never know. But, apparently she doesn’t want to know. She refuses me to say more. I stop, stare at her like “the hell are you saying?!”, while she handles me a couple of sheets with, basically, all you should know about hiking safety rules. “So?”, I reply. “I can’t hear intentions, if you do want to let somebody knows, find another person. That’s not me”. Ok, fuck it, you and the intentions. I’m gonna be back soon anyway.

Since the first steps I can tell it’s gonna be really steep. I mean, I know when a trail should be dubbed steep. And that’s the case. No way to climb up gently on a leveled, paved path, just a rocky, messed, rough trail tangled with roots and limbs. Sometimes, big rocks build up stairs that your legs would pay to get rid of. Muscles killers. Big and small roots make it difficult to get up with a constant pace, even more difficult to balance your body when setting down the feet. Finally, limbs here and there from the incumbent vegetation make it necessary to take a look up, unless you want to get your teeth slapped by some green and brown stuff. Not really my case. After just a couple minutes, my shins are collapsed. I don’t know what it is (lactic acid?!) but it’s just a heck of an obstacle to hike with that. Simply I can’t keep the pace I want. So, gotta slow down, relax for a while, climb up easily. That’s how it works, hopefully. But the weather is changing, you can tell it from the wind, kicking up steadily, the clouds, moving pretty quickly. I must, hurry up if I want to make it to the summit. I just think, that I can do the hike in 3 hours, but I’m not still sure: I don’t know how many km I’m gonna hike, don’t know if it will keep as steep as I saw so far, and finally, I don’t know if my legs will make it. I hiked a lot, 250 km in the last month, with just a few days of complete rest. My toes have been smashed into the boots quite a few times, running downhill. That’s gonna be my last big hike for a while, anyway it’ll go. But by now, let’s move.

After a painful series of stairs, rocks and roots, I finally reach the end of the bushline. Kind of relief uh? It’s not. The wind is strong, I bet it’s at least 50 km/h, and the temperature dropping down. But I don’t want to stop and take another layer, I just want to make it as soon as I can, so I keep going. From here, I find nobody on the trail. The only 3 people I met were already down the bushline, almost safe and close to the road, the civilization, a car. I think I can say which is my goal, which one is the peak I’m climbing to. But eventually, when I think I’m close to get there – as often happens in the mountains – I understand it was just a ghost. An illusion. The peak is way up there. It’s actually kind of another mountain. I’m just at its feet. Crap. I stop, and stare. It’s still steep, the terrain not definitely reliable. All around me, except to the East, a compact bank of grey clouds loom closer and closer, quickly. I can’t exactly tell how much time I still have before it’ll start, but one thing that I know, is that the forecast was amazingly correct. I decide to move on, again. Trying to keep the steady pace I finally acquired, I skip rock to rock avoiding pebbles and sand, both on my hiking black list. Stopping for a few seconds just to check the sky, I eventually reach the summit, at more than 18 hundreds meters, allowing you to see the closest world to yourself. It’s mountains all over here. At least till a certain height. Then, it’s just grey clouds. The wind it’s stronger. I decide to take a few steps back, trying to protect myself from the fiercest gusts, and take out my light parka and winter hat. Necessary. No people around for a picture, I go for a self-shot which tastes like and odyssey. Choosing the rightest rock, balancing the camera, adjusting the subject. I’m freezing my hands. So I take a few shots, quickly, put my camera back into the bag, and get ready. “Let’s get my ass out of here as soon as I can”, I think.

But it’s not always as easy as you may want. There has to be something spicy. Crappy, say it whatever you prefer. I feel a drop on my hand, while I’m concentrated in my usual rock-jumping style to go downhill. That’s painful: I cannot figure out how it should be all of that rocks and roots tangle with a heavy rain. So, I pray for it to stop to a drop, and wait for a few quarters of hour. But it simply doesn’t agree. It rains. I try to get down quickly but wisely, trying to maximize my balance on every rock, evaluating every pace to avoid to slipper or worse, to fall to the ground. Here it would be massive. Well, say tragic. Overall forwards. Through rough wind gusts that change my body moves and some “Oh-my-goodness-this-time-I’m-screwed” moments, I got the bushline pretty soon fortunately, but it’s not as sweet as one can think. Roots are as slippery – if not more – than wet rocks, so it’s complicated to choose where to put your feet. Rain is evening up, and down here you start to splash your feet into water, and occasionally mud. I got to a point I pointed out as the most difficult yet coming uphill, but with a little of attention and some slow-motion moves I do it well. Feeling good, I think the worst has gone. Not yet man. On a tricky passage made of a couple small trees and some small rocks, a descent of 2 meters or so, the rock I choose to set my foot collapse. I just fall down. In that fraction of second, I can’t even imagine how painful, fatal should be my ass-smashing to the rocky ground. Bad stuff. Really bad stuff this time. But somehow, my left arm manages to grab a strong limb of one of the two trees I was passing through, holding firmly to it. I save my ass. Just hurting the rocks behind me with the backpack. Still holding on the limb, I breathe a relief breath. Still alive, not even scratched or wounded or whatever. Cool uh? (Yep, to me it is)

Later on I was sitting at the toilet, reading those hiking safety rules sheets that the hostel manager handled me before I started to hike. Sheets which I didn’t read at that time, and that are now pinned to the toilet’s door. “Most of the people find it a challenge, some are just terrified by the experience”, it’s underlined in a passage. I’m just close to grab a pen and write, “I did it in 2hours and 45minutes!”