Tsunami, 28. Walking Around Again.

Yesterday morning, I decided to go on a hike. My daughter insisted on coming along, so we both set off along back lanes through the woods. Not that there are many woods, because the hill behind our house has been replanted since the fire a couple of years ago, and the trees are still more like sticks than trees.

I climbed. 

Looking back down, I was amazed at how high I had climbed. Looking up at what was before me, I despaired of ever reaching the top. Towards the end, I set my legs in short bicycle gear; short steps without stopping. Eventually, I reached the highest point of the lane, where my daughter was waiting. I am desperately out of shape. All winter, I haven't gone walking. Now, I'm paying the consequences.

But we weren't at the top, yet. She showed me, through the incipient eucalyptus growing pell mell, a cement post. That post marked the highest point of the hill, 276 meters above sea level. Our house is around 60 meters above sea level, so we had climbed about two hundred meters in two hours. 

To get to the post, we had to navigate our way through small eucalyptus, gorse, and dead wood still strewn around from the fire. The hilltop is listed as a cultural heritage, and supposed to be protected as a panoramic site. Well, if they don't get going, pretty soon getting to the very summit will be impossible, and the panorama will be one of tree trunks. 

From there, we could see over to Vilagarcía, and all the way down the estuary. Looking inland, the Pico Sacro outside Santiago was barely visibly in the haze. The highway lay far below, a grey ribbon close to the silver ribbon that was the river Ulla. 

We found our way back to the lane, and descended. Going down was easier than going up, and I had picked up a stick to help pull aside gorse bushes, which helped me on the down hill path. Toward the bottom, we took a short cut by a spring, and followed the path that had converted to yet another small brook, with the overflow from the spring that had been created by all the rain.

My body complained for the rest of the day, though, especially my back. This morning, I set off again, but on a shorter climb, and a shorter route. I went up yesterday's lane, and then took a different direction. This way was downhill, and led me to a lane I had walked down many times before, when I walked one of my longer routes. Again, my body complained. Slowly, it should get back in shape and stop complaining. 

I have been attracted by these dirt lanes leading through the woods, because I don't meet up with anyone. For the past few months, it's obligatory to wear a mask even when doing solitary exercise. When I walk, if I find myself going at a nice pace, I breathe much more deeply. The mask doesn't let me, and I tire much more easily. So, I fold a mask in my pack, and stick to back lanes. If I happen to wander down to inhabited areas, I put it on, but pull it down to my neck unless I cross paths with someone, when I pull it up. The lucky thing is that most villages are empty of people most of the day, so I don't find myself with others very often. 

Hopefully, I'll keep walking now, and make my body a little stronger again.

Life continues.