(If you’re faint of heart and/or easily offended by off-color language & questionable innuendos, I recommend you skip the first part of this post and go straight to the second.)
I feel like I’ve been doing a shit-ton of sitting on my ass. So today I decided to get off my ass and take my ass up a mountain. I went to the hostel reception desk to ask how the hell I get up the damn thing, and they said, “We’re driving up there tomorrow if you want to come?”
Drive up there? Fuck that shit, I’m climbing that bitch!
“No thanks,” I said, “I need the exercise.”
“Okay, have a good walk!”
Walk? It better be more than some pussy stroll in the park.
Oh my, was it ever! What should have taken me 3 hours to summit Mt. Wellington took me 2 hours. In other words, I hauled ass! Yep, I scaled the shit outta that thing!
It was fan-fuckin-tastic. When I finally mounted her, I felt a huge release. I sense of accomplishment, really. It was a hard ride, and it was worth it. Once I got there, I considered for a moment going all the way down - about another 90+ minute commitment. In the end, I pussied out and hitch-hiked back to Hobart. After all, she would always be here should I want to come again. What a good, fucking hike.
…….
Well, now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, I have to say, what a lovely hike it was! The word that best describes the whole experience is “divine.” I was in a wonderland of over-sized ferns, eucalyptus trees, and babbling brooks. I kept saying, “thank you, thank you, thank you” out loud as I climbed, until I was too out of breath to speak, which didn’t take all that long. The climb was rather close to bouldering at some points. The Zig Zag Track I was seeking wasn’t as easy to find as I’d thought it would be. At each fork in the road (and there were many) I decided to take the steep, narrow, rocky one. Less out of an attempt to literally fulfill a Biblical analogy, and more out of an inspiration to take Robert Frost’s advice on taking the “one less traveled by”.
There are many activities which produce “flow” for me. That is, that optimum experience that lies perfectly between boredom and anxiety on the spectrum of activities one can undertake*. I’ve always known, but it was confirmed today, that hiking is one of those things. This particular endeavour was a perfect balance of pleasure and challenge, thereby providing the utmost enjoyment for me. As I neared the summit, the level of difficulty increased as the air got thinner and colder, and my legs & lungs burned with greater intensity. I started to feel like the “Little Engine That Could”, saying to myself, “I think I can, I think - no! I know - I can, I know I can!” But that final bit of the trail that hurt the most also made the arrival to the top of the mountain all the more rewarding. I met a lovely couple from South Carolina, who graciously gave me a ride back to Hobart. Before we left, however, they took a photo of me in all my mountain-scaling glory, and gave me time and space to have a moment with the breath-taking view. I even built myself a little altar as a monument to the adventure I’d just had, which was almost more spiritual than it was physical.
I went from hiking & dripping sweat, to standing on the summit & freezing cold, to climbing into a warm car. This left me feeling like I’d just taken a bath in some endorphin-infused Icy Hot. What a beautiful experience. Positively divine.
Fuck yeah.
*concept gleaned from the book “Flow (P.S.)” by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi
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