La Fortuna: Cerro Chato

Today was the day for the hike. And wow, was I not prepared for it.

2 miles, they said. 2 miles up and 2 miles back. 2 hours up and 1 hour back.
Bring water.
Bring snacks.
Prepare to get muddy.

I'm never ready for a hike, actually. I'm always apprehensive about up.
Up is not my forte. Up is my grief. Up is my kryptonite.

But push on, I do. Push on, I always do.

And so we began.

We started by signing the book. The book that you sign when you leave and when you return. The book that they check at the end of the day to make sure no one's still up there. The book with emergency contact information.

And then there was the safety talk. The route description. The reminders. The warnings about snakes. The constant repetition: "Go at your own pace."

The info guide faced us in the right direction and we headed out and up.

The first bit was dirt road. Slight incline. Shaded. We ambled upward. We took pictures of the view.  At the first Vista Point, we stopped for a drink and took panoramas.

We continued and met the first group we would ultimately pass and be passed by multiple times during the morning. Two girls from Quebec. Stopping for a drink break. A friendly hello and a wave as we started up the steep incline.

The grade began to increase. And the terrain deteriorated. The worn mud roads had eroded from the rainy season, deep ruts cutting through the dense mud. Carving like a canyon.

"Small steps" became my mantra. Small steps and little breaks.
Step step step. Stop. Breathe.
Step step step.
Stop.
Breathe.

The sun was out in full force. We were passed by a red-haired freckle-faced girl from Germany. She hiked with determination. Large forceful steps. Sure-footed gait.

At a little past the halfway point there was a tree. (Oh, sweet respite!) We all ended up gathered there for a snack break. The Canadians chomped apples. The German, a protein bar. Josh and I noshed on dry dry cereal bars. We inhaled. We spoke of our separate journeys - what brought us here, where we'd been before. We shaded ourselves from the heat. We exhaled.

And then, we trudged on.
Step step step. Stop. Breathe.

Here began the jungle. Shielding us from the sun, the canopy enveloped us in its lush greenery. Trapping us in the humidity.

The path became stairs. Stairs carved in mud. Stairs formed from roots. Stairs unevenly spaced. Little stairs for munchkins. "Giant stairs for giant people!" I'd exclaim from time to time. And we took them one by one. Alternating dominant legs. Using arms as simple machines. Distributing weight. Spreading out the work on what would ultimately be sore muscles the next morning.

Slip sliding in the mud. Josh extending a hand from time to time. Giving me a boost on the occasional mammoth stairs for mammoth people. Near the top, we finally started seeing people on their way down.

"You're almost there," is one of the most patronizing things you can say to a hiker going up.
"Just twenty more minutes," is both devastating in how long that seems. Is cruel in the fact that, in truth, it's gonna be way more than that.

But we made it. And at the top, we were treated with a picturesque view of the volcano, peaking shyly out behind a screen of gentle clouds. We ate it in. We drank in our surroundings as we simultaneously gulped the air-temperature water our bodies craved.

But were we done? No, no. For there was the lagoon to reach. The lagoon nestled in the crater of Cerro Chato. And from the looks of the folks returning from that direction, it was gonna get muddy.

We began the climb down an almost vertical grade. It was slick with mud. The trees we used as handholds wet as if rain was pouring that very moment. We slipped. We slid. We clambered down and under branches, roots, and rocks.

But we made it again. This time to the tiny shores of the lagoon. Surrounded on all sides by deep green rainforest. Steep sides framed the aquamarine lake. Josh jumped in the crisp chilly water and I waded. Taking it in. Savoring in the serenity.

When we finally had our share -- rested up, filled our bellies, quenched our thirst -- we commenced the journey back. Up and up the lagoon's sheltering walls. Then down, down, down the same erratic stairs was had trudged up.

"You're almost there," we tried to encourage the few we met almost at the top. The irony didn't even phase me.

Our knees ached at the downward trek. But it was faster. And we were pulled by gravity toward the bottom. Back toward our temporary home.

When we finally reached the cool tile of the tiki bar, I shed my wet shoes and walked barefoot to the room. With a quick rinse, I re-donned my swimsuit and we both jumped joyfully into the pool. Where we waded. Floated. And rested.

We had made it.

Cool Breeze

The sun was high. Hot. The cloudless day teased us with its lack of shade.

We both were wet with sweat. Backs warm with the reminder of the packs we had just shouldered on the long uphill climb. Our skin covered in a thin layer of dust. Attempts to wipe it off resulted in small dark smears.

In the distance, we could hear a vehicle approaching. The crunch of the gravel road. The low sound of the motor. I squinted in anticipation at the spot where the car would soon appear.  We stuck our thumbs out in tandem.

The silver mud-covered SUV crested the hill and rolled into sight, rocking like a boat on choppy water, avoiding the many potholes marking the road. We donned our friendliest smiles. Slid our sunglasses over our eyes to shield us from the upcoming mini dust storm to be kicked up by the vehicle that ultimately, like the last one, would pass us by.

The driver peered at us through his windshield. His passenger gave a flick-of-the-wrist wave. And they drove on.

The heat enveloped us. The humidity like a blanket.

Two German Shepard pups -- brothers -- noisily hopped out of the nearby riverbed, splashing, biting each other in play. Both covered in water. Mud.

He glanced at his watch to check the time. The sun reflected brightly off its face.

I sighed. Defeated. Waiting.

Then.. We heard it before we felt it.
The trees in the distance hinted with their rustling leaves. Their swaying promised respite.

It was slow at first. A slight breeze that barely cooled the neck beneath my hair. And it stopped after barely a few seconds. I sighed, resigned to heat.

But, lo. It blessed us again with its glorious presence. More prolonged. Invigorating.

It brushed our skin with its coolness. It blew strands of hair from my sweltering forehead. Like that first refreshing sip of ice cold water after a long thirst. The kind you can feel as you drink it. The way you can follow its chill as it hits your mouth, slowly melts down your quenched throat and then settles, happy, in your contented belly.

It covered us head to toe. Like a new blanket. A blanket of relief. Soothing. Cool.

And suddenly, for just those few minutes I wasn't even aware of the road. The ride we needed. The sun. The dust. The sweat.

Suddenly, for that brief moment, I took the time to appreciate a cool summer breeze.

Walking.

Walking, to me, is reflecting.
Exercising.
Exploring.

Gaining a new vantage.
Getting a new perspective.

Finding greenery in the midst of the concrete jungle.

Finding beauty in the everyday.

Appreciating the warmth in the fog that envelopes me.

Stairs.

Yesterday began with a disastrous potato salad.

Josh, Goober and I sat on the porch with the sun on our backs and a smoothie between us, when suddenly, I realized the potatoes had been boiling too long. A salvage attempt was made but my mood was still sour.

To remedy this, a destination was picked and a walk began.
Objective: Golden Gate Heights. 4 miles and 760 feet elevation gain.
Strapped on a new pair of shoes to break in, grabbed water and a sweater. And we were off!

I guess I should have guessed by the MapMyWalk that I was going to be headed uphill. .. But, as we walked up 24th, the grade of the street kept catching me off guard. By the last block before we reached Market, I had to stop twice within a block to catch my breath and take in the views.

The walk took a twist. We snaked under, around and up to get to Market.

Market morphed to Portola and we followed them both, mirroring traffic, gaining elevation. Step after step, we traversed the saddle of Twin Peaks.

We left Sutro Tower behind us.

Above this crest, we were treated to a whole new section of the city. Everything got a little more suburban. There was space. There were driveways. There were yards.  Hell, we even saw this place that looked straight out of a movie -- discarded play bike turned over and left on the grass.

More steps, more incline, more up.

We made it now to a beautiful wooded area of SF. I marveled over and over that we were still in the city limits. The trees were large, old and looming. The streets winding. I got lost in the getting lost.

Then, as we turned a corner, we were greeted by a man and his Labrador. The pup was too excited to be there, tugging and pulling at his leash. Dog controlling owner. 

And we were there.

Beautiful, forested. Full of great vistas, shady benches and friendly dogs.

With a stop for a little bit of swinging, we pushed on a bit farther to what we learned was Grand View Park.  They weren't kidding when they named it!

And, as we descended the hill, we were treated to one final surprise. From our vantage, we saw many people taking photos on the stairs we were descending. It seemed curious, but not unusual.

Only when we turned around, did we discover the city's last present to us.

All in all, I am once again thankful that I live in a city that surprises me on a daily basis.

Thank you, San Francisco!

Exploring.

(Day 6: Without answering with your job, how would you answer the question, "What do you do?")

What do I do? ..  
Hmm.. What do I do..?

I'd like to say .. I explore.

I try to do this as often as possible.. Though, maybe, some weeks are less exploratory than others.

While I haven't been out of the country in quite some time.. and, to be honest, only out of California a few times in the last a year .. my goal lately has been to explore our City as much as possible in the free time that I have. 

With the weather turning, Josh and I have taken to the heights of SF. There are so many untouched hills around us that have been preserved as parks which we can hike to the top of and soak in the Bay area. 

Take such examples:

Haight to Heights -- 5.5 miles, two peaks: Buena Vista (575 ft) and Corona Heights (520 ft)
A pretty walk with a nice stop in Hayes Valley for brunch and then two peaks I had never previously known of before. Lovely views of the city.

Almost to Twin Peaks -- 3.8 miles, two peaks: Tank Hill (650 ft) and Kite Hill (unknown height)
Feel like you might want to almost hike Twin Peaks but want to avoid tourists and cars and whatnot?  Great vista points and no bumping elbows!

Trusty Bernal -- 3.8 miles, 1.5 peaks: Holly Park (274 ft) and Bernal Heights (433 ft)
This is the standard everyday hill hike. The most bang for your buck: close and pretty steep. Plus, the most amazing views of everywhere in the city. Adding in Holly Hill adds distance and a new vantage. Worth it.

So.. I strive to explore not only my own city as the year slips by.. but hopefully more of the country and eventually (please sooner rather than later) more outside our borders.