I am all dirty and my feet hurt, and I feel good. Hiked all day with an old friend (who is also a friend that is old... er.) He's a character, this man. Can scamper up mountains like a billy goat; spends most of his time working on trails (as a hobby), maintaining and clearing hiking paths, removing fallen trees, digging trenches, etc. He's the B.C. west coast's unsung hero of the mountains. It's not often that he lets himself just do a hike, for pleasure, and today was one of those rare occasions. We went up past Whistler and hiked up through some old growth woods into alpine meadows. Took us 4 hours to reach our destination before we turned around, and for me, that was a-plenty. But oh man, it was gorgeous up there. Wide open valleys sprinkled with alpine flowers; streams, tough old trees in huddled patches, and glaciers stark against the sky. The air was cold and fresh as snow.
By the time we got back down, I knew my feet were a mess - damned hiking boots! - skin came clean off both my heels, and toes blistered right up. But I was just so happy that my legs and lungs carried me uncomplainingly. I'm kicking myself that another summer has nearly passed without any overnight hiking. It's such a unique feeling, being up a mountain. I always wonder how in the hell I'm going to get back down. But I know that somehow I will; isn't that a beautiful thing?
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