The Dystopian Times, 29. Trying to Avoid Crowds

This morning, I set off for Santiago, to visit a couple of bookstores that carry English books. Almost ten minutes into my trip, I realized I hadn't picked up any money. My pockets were empty. At the next exit, I turned around and went back home. By the time I got there, it was almost ten thirty, and I decided it was too late to set out again. Change of plans.

I decided to drive up to the lookout on Monte Muralla. I figured that at that hour in the morning, there wouldn't be anyone there. 

I was right. As I approached the base of the dirt lane leading up, there were no cars parked on the shoulders. I drove up. Surely the lane would be okay for my trusty little car. 

A little while ahead, another lane began to the left and went up. I turned onto it, another dirt lane. At first I had no problem. And then I reached a spot where it seemed I was about to head into waves straight on. There was a series of potholes crossing the lane that created valleys and hills with no way to go around them. If I drove over them, the bottom of my car would scrape nicely.

So, I let the car fall back, and parked right at where this lane began, on the shoulder. I got out and started walking uphill. I was right not to have attempted the crossing with my car; just beyond the hills and valleys of the lane, there were drops of black oil leading up in a straight line. Someone who figured their normal car was as good as a four wheel drive, had decided to continue up the lane. 

But the lane was steep at times, with loose gravel. Then, the trees backed away, and it was all sunlit. I reached the first large area by the windmills that dot the hills, and wondered if I should continue or go back, pulling up breaths from the climb. I continued, moving out of the shade of one of the large windmills, a buzzing sound coming out of its base. 

When I was finally reaching the top, I noticed that the car with the oil leak had driven exactly all the way to the top, where it seemed to have parked. Then, it backed down to the esplanade where I was, and turned around to go back down. How do I know? There was a succession of black dots climbing to the stone barrier that doesn't let cars into the area of the lookout. Up there, a large pool of oil had formed, with a strong black line parallel to the drops rising up, and the sharp line indicated where the driver had turned the car around. I think that one isn't coming back any time soon. It looked like an expensive repair.

The top was occupied by a cement esplanade, with a wooden walkway in one corner, and a wire fence that reached my chest surrounding it all. There were two large boards with a picture of the view, and the names of the different landmarks. At the very top of the hill was a wooden hut where a vigilante sits to keep an eye out for fires. Next to the hut is a cell phone antenna, and just below, on the way up, is a television relay antenna. 

The hut had its own antennas, and a cloud of carpenter ants was flying right next to the door. I don't know if the wood of the hut will soon need changing, or if the electricity of the antenna was calling them all. I didn't linger there. But the views were good. To the south, I could see all the way to the Cíes Islands, out in front of the estuary of Vigo. To the northwest lay Noia, and to the northeast was the Pico Sacro, and in the haze, I could just make out Santiago. 

After a little bit, I started walking back down. A runner passed me on the way up (!) and then on the way down. A cyclist also passed me on the way down (he must have gone up by another lane), and as I was approaching my car, a couple were starting their walk up. Then, a station wagon parked on the other shoulder, and about four or five people got out, dog included, to walk up. It was eleven thirty in the morning. 

I came to a few conclusions as I was driving back. I won't attempt such a walk again until I have at least two weeks of an hour's walk each day under my belt. I will wear appropriate footwear. I will not attempt it on a hot, sunny day. I will avoid places that are being talked about like the plague. 

It's a good view, but I still don't understand why so many people have decided to visit every evening and weekend. Surely there are other places with views just as good, or even better. Once it was touted on internet and the newspapers, it seems that everyone just had to go there because that is the place to be. So, the next time a place is described as one of the most beautiful spots that everyone has to visit, I won't. I will try to wait until it is no longer popular. Part of the beauty that is talked about is only visible when the place isn't crowded like a rush hour train. And I'm sure that watching the sun set up there must be wonderful. But not if I'm surrounded by the entire population of our town. 

Life continues.