A surprise when we reach the end of the hike. The mountains are "covered" in hotels. Access by car in special
circumstances.
Covered in lakes, too—which we obviously prefer—except on a rainy night.
Over the recent years, at least the last ten or so, we have been fortunate and at times, yes, privileged to witness some of the world's magnificence. It's indeed a world of miracles, beauty, tension and struggle and unfortunately, hardships, too. The struggles are necessary, the hardships not. Clearly, reward derives meaning and value when it is commensurate with the effort and exertion expended to achieve it. To us, it seems obvious, logical and the way of the world. In a simplistic form, one may understand it as the other side of 'easy come, easy go'.
Today, while traveling by the university in La Jolla, San Diego, we saw a sight that may have surpassed all others. Jenni believes whenever I view something which I consider outstanding, I tend to forget earlier memories. She's probably correct but I enjoy it and for a change, contrary to my nature, say, 'why sweat it?' Hopefully, that's in context and easily understood. So what could be more beautiful, exciting and stimulating than the wonders of the world or at least, the few of many we have come across on the mountains, in the valleys and in-between? To tone it down somewhat, perhaps I should write 'at least equal to' rather than 'surpassing'. It's a good question and that you asked certainly deserves an answer. However, at the outset, Jenni disagrees with me, even strongly, I might add. In fairness, she's not always right—(living dangerously again).
When I peered out the window of the car, traveling at 30 miles per hour, approximately, I saw a line of students waiting at the bus stop. At a guess, there were not less than 25 young people, both sitting and standing, but surprisingly, calm and patient. Approaching the stop, not a bus, but another group of young people, matched those at the stop in all aspects but for their mobility.
That's when I noticed it. I appreciated the unique features, even beauty, as I saw one person walking upright with a backpack positioned appropriately, head held high and pace, brisk. I took my eyes off the road for a second more, wishing to savor the sight and moment.
You see, the comparison was quite different. Everyone of the other students and/or young people were hunched over, whether seated, standing or in motion. Not one communicated with another orally or visually. Each person focused intensely on a little hand-held gadget, some with wires, protruding from or growing in, their ears. It was truly a wonderful sight to see that lone person, standing out from the crowd. I felt transported back to an earlier century—I liked it. And people say miracles don't occur...
(I do offer a proviso. While I made the bold statement that the students did not communicate with one another, it's possible they in fact did, through the gadgets.)
Flowers to the fore, editor takes cover under her rain covers.
Rich growth and color.
Editor ascends in light rain.
We spent most, if not all, the ascent in a light rain. By the time we reached our destination, we were freezing. We remind ourselves continually it's mid-summer. To our surprise, an upmarket hotel confronted us. We walked inside, nervous about wetting the foyer, (dripping clothes rather than bladder issues), but it seemed a typical day in the mountains with the lobby filled with wet guests and perhaps, other whets. We seated ourselves at a bar and ordered hot tea. "Big or small?" The barman asked. We chose the larger size and were most surprised. Europeans tend to provide petite size drinkware. Our cups, porcelain of course, would make a Texan proud. So we sat in a bar, inside a hotel some two thousand feet or so into the mountains observing life in an unusual setting. Man, it felt good, especially the hot beverage on a cold, wet, summer's day.
Delightful.
Can't keep a good hunchback down...or upright.
Oh dear! Not another storm.
Bridge crossing where Jenni and I lost each other on the way to Chata Zamkovskella. It was like two ships passing in the day. I had stopped to take this photograph when Jenni was a little behind me. While I waited for her, apparently she had already passed me. (The trail was crowded.) I then headed back to find out what happened to her. Disappeared. I turned around again, facing a thunderstorm ahead that appeared imminent. I found the young woman at the Chata, waiting for me. With so many people taking shelter, we had to shelter from the rain and storm in … the rain.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
A repeat from Hungary. Placed here so Jen and I have easy access to color and beauty of nature.
A bonus for Jeffrey.
'Row, row row your boat.' (Picture by Benny, 6 years and 5 days old).
When your granddaughter sidles up to you and puts her arm around the ample hips (unasked), you feel the world just changed,
if only for a short while.
A special salute to Barry Jahn and his grandson, Keaton, of Oregon who set a fine example of what tough hikers are all about. In addition, the relationship of grandfather and grandson hiking in Europe for close to a month together is the envy, we would think, of most, certainly ourselves. Inspirational!
We met Barry in Oregon on a waterfalls hike during mid-2013 in his state.
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