Lately I have been itching for a hike and a climb. This yearning becomes intensified by the books and essays I have chosen to read. The one I finished today was "On the Enjoyment of Unpleasant Places" by Robert Louis Stevenson. In his short essay he describes wonderfully his time spent in a dreary Northern English coastal town, barren of all trees and constantly windy. "..this was the nakedness of the North; the earth seemed to know it was naked, and was ashamed and cold." He reminisces of blustery walks and taking shelter behind a wall only to realize the beauty of the surrounding area.
The other book that is making me long for a hike is the classic "The Ascent of Rum Doodle" by W.E. Bowman. This is hands down the funniest book I have read and I could relate to almost every aspect of the story. My favorite part is of course the fight in the tent, not only because of literary humor but because it was almost a word by word description of a tenting incident that I myself have had. I only need to think of either Binder's account or my own and a smile creeps across my face.
Now what are the joys of trudging across the mountainous landscape? To the prairie folk, just the thought of entering the towering mountains makes their feet hurt and their hands get clammy from claustrophobia. To me the mountains are the ultimate in relaxation. Soon after leaving the parked car, the scent of pine needles meets the nostrils. Mountain birds sing sweetly from the trees. Ascending up the mountain, the air becomes fresher, the sound of your own labored breath sets the tempo for the symphony around you. The percussion of a stone, kicked loose and bouncing down the slope to the forest below, the woodwinds (literally), the brass section heard occasionally as an eagle cries. The music fades as the grand finale approaches: the summit! At this point you look back and then the orchestra erupts in jubilation. Although silent to the ear, the finale booms through your chest and ends with a triumphant "WOOOO!"
Applause. Bow. Applause.
