So, after a night of silliness, giggling and general debauchery, we woke up this morning and started the day slowly. Then. Alan and I tackled the hill behind the house. No big deal, Alan and Cheri said. We’ve had guests do it in flip-flops.
Well, okay then. I armed myself with water and bear spray. Alan put on his Timberland work boots and declared himself ready to go. Two hours up and down. No big deal.
We crossed the road and for the first time in a long time, I turned on my tracker. I had a bit of a feeling about this.
First, there was no trail. At least, there was no trail where we headed – pretty much straight up. Let’s call it a BW1 (bushwhack rating). The first thing I noticed was the flowers and the flora in general. It was so different from the alpine I am used to and, in its own special way, so very beautiful.
I kept squealing with delight. Alan was pleased (I think) that I was having such a great time. And our views got better and better and it was wonderful to see Alan loving it too. He had never been above his house.
Of course, we got to the top of the hill but then there was another top and then another and then one last one and we heaved ourselves to the top and I was madly grateful that Alan just went right along, even though we did four times the amount of work we set out to do. But it all just kept getting better and the bushwhack turned into a BW 3 at one point and we saw a deer.
And there was a bear. I heard him – that warning growl that is so distinct. I swear I would have bumped into him if I had taken two more steps. We backed off and took an alternate route down. And I did have my bear spray in hand if needed.
And so, three hours after setting out we got back. 400 metres and a bit elevation. Flip-flops definitely not the preferred footwear.