I've had an extremely unproductive evening, and I just can't bring myself to get any homework done, but blogging is at least slightly more productive than playing JT's Blocks on Yahoo Games. So without further ado, Xave's Xlog presents the third installment in its series of out-takes from Xave's foray across the pond this past summer. (Also, check out parts one and two!)
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Today was the big day - climbing a Freaking Mountain. I set out at 9 and grabbed a trail map (in Italian) from the tourist office. I didn't know my mountain hiking level, not having done it in probably at least a decade, so I just picked the first path and planned to play it by ear.
Well, it took me quite a while just to get there. I got lost on the other side of the river (where the mapped mountains were). After about an hour of being lost, I thought I had it figured out, and I set out on the road. The road didn't seem like the kind of road that pedestrians are supposed to walk on, though, so I walked in the thick grass on the other side of the short fence. Shortly thereafter, this middle-aged woman bicycled by and started blabbering in Italian. I informed her that I didn't speak Italian, but she didn't speak English, so she just dumbed down for me. Among her key words were "serpenti", "grande" and "sssssssss". OH SHIT. SOME HUGE SNAKES ARE GONNA EAT ME! Needless to say, I exodused ASAP. She also re-affirmed where we were, but I had it figured out.
I eventually found the 1st trail and got going around 10:45. It was a 400m (alt.) climb up to Sardagna. ---Note: distances are altitudes, not horizontal distances. I'll figure those out later.--- Right, so I got up 400m (starting at 200, so ending at 600), nice and sweaty and a little hungry.
I stopped in at a small market and got 3 rolls, a big hunk of mozzarella, an apple, 2 peaches and 4 plums. The peaches were hard, the plums (yellow) were tasty, and I haven't eaten the apple yet. I'll get to the bread and cheese later. Oh yeah, I also got a 1.5L bottle of water. Already had my nalg, but I figured lots of acqua would be prudent.
Anyway, I sat on a bench in front of a tap pouring out water into a big squarular pool to eat a peach while wondering if the water was drinkable. In the duration of my peach, one dude came by to wash his arms and face off after a hard morning's work, and another dude came and filled up his mug. Yep, this is a small mountain town. So I tasted the water and it was deliciously cold, so I dumped my 2.5 total litres and got some fresh mountain spring.
From there I set out on the 2nd leg; though I had to settle for my 3rd choice (of trails) because I couldn't find my 1st (I think it was closed) and my 2nd had a sketchy detour that I noched after a bit. My 3rd choice was the steepest, though most direct, of the 3. I climbed 400 more meters with much misery (not really, I just wanted to alliterate... you might call me a member of the alliterati), and ended at a place marked "Coel" (it was just a trail intersection and a picnic table. So I cheesed up a role and took a bite.
Oh man.
Yeah, that required 4 blank lines. This was my first (and time will tell regarding any more - I kind of doubt it) "this is the best _____ I've ever tasted" moments of the trip. (The _____ was the cheese.) It was creamy, and the thing it tasted most like (more than any mozzarella I've ever had) was Daiter's Cream Cheese. But it wasn't that creamy. It had more solidity than cream cheese - it is mozzarella after all. And the flavour was brilliant. I don't even know how to describe it.
The bread was tasty too. Not the best bread I've ever had, but good enough that I could enjoy the cheese without wishing that I had got better bread to enjoy it on.
Right, so I kept going and eventually reached Venaze (1300m, 300 above Coel) around 3. I was pretty freaking tired, so I sat down for a while and fruited, but I wasn't done. The next destination was _______ (1650m). (Editor's note: I forgot the name of this town and lost my trail map, so I was never able to add it back in to the journal.) I stopped and started a lot, including at a hillside bar for another mozza sandwich, but I eventually got there, I think around 4.
_______ was a very cute town, small with some bars and hotels, and a playground area where there were 2 goats and a horse (donkey?) who I stared down for a while. I originally planned to call it a day there, maybe find a pizzeria and then head back, but a big sign with a trail description enticed me to go for the summit (2100m). The sign promised shallowness, but I don't think they maintain the trails much up there, because I couldn't find that one and ended up on an extremely steep one.
It was on this trail that I encountered the only other hiker I saw all day - a Dutch dude, older than me, by how much I cannot tell you, I think I was delirious by then. He had just hiked up from _______, and was very impressed to hear of my voyage. I kept going for a while after bidding farewell to him, but I just couldn't do it. I gave up around 1750 or 1800m. By that point I had entered the clouds, and I was somewhere around 80-85% up the old girl, so based on my arbitrary criteria, I climbed that mountain. And I plan on telling people I did.
One big disappointment of the day is that my camera ran out of battery in _______ for the first time on the trip. On the most scenic day of the trip. So I missed some pretty good shots in _______, from the highest point I reached, coming down, and also on the way up, since I had been conserving battery. Oh well, there are still some good ones in there. And my memories! (Editor's note: my camera was stolen that night, so at least the thief had to buy a charger!)
So I was pretty hungry when I started heading down, but I resolved to get down the mountain and then worry about dinner. Coming down is sure a lot easier than climbing up, but it was still quite a trek, especially on the steep, non-paved parts. A couple of times I got going a little too fast (it's hard not to run when it's that steep), and it took a long time to stop myself. Once I twisted my ankle so twistily I thought it would be sore for days, but as it happened the pain was gone in about 2 minutes. I dunno, maybe I have incredibly strong ankles... even though I've landed funny on them a lot of times, nothing bad has ever come of it.
So I eventually reached the anti-summit, incredibly tired and more than a little bit dizzy/light-headed. It only made sense that I got a little bit lost getting back to the hostel. Oh, and somewhere on the way down I lost my map. That would have helped me in terms of not getting lost, but more importantly, I wanted to keep it and trace the path I took and do some distance calculations and stuff. Hopefully it's online somewhere.
Anyway, I got back to the hostel around 8 and they had a restaurant which was theoretically open til 10. They were "closed" which probably just meant nobody was there so they shut it down. But the extremely friendly girl at reception opened the place up just for me, and before I knew it there were about 12 things in front of me. That's just a guess, let's count...
1) a plate of pasta
2) a bowl of salad
3) a leg of chicken
4) ketchup (I think? maybe it was extra tomato sauce)
5) mayonnaise
6) a huge bowl of bread which probably could have been my whole meal
7) a jug of water
8) a cup of water
9) a chino (italian pop)
10) olive oil
11) vinegar
12) salt
13) pepper
14) cutlery
Oh yeah, and I turned down melon for dessert. They really came through for a starving, exhausted Canadese dude.
Afterwards, I headed down to the internet cafe but stopped on the way because a guy was playing guitar and singing on a patio of a bar, and had gathered a pretty good crowd. And for good reason - he was very good, and funny too, and I don't even speak Italian. After 2 songs, the ache in all parts of my legs got too strong, so I proceeded to the cafe if for no other reason than to sit down. I won't tell you about my antics surfing the net or walking home or writing in this, or going to bed, for they are LAME.
I will say, though, that this journal entry is somewhat reflective of the day as a whole. L o o o o o o o o o o o n g. Except that while I succeeded at climbing a mountain, I spread writing this over 2 days, making my journalistic journey an utter failure.
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