Originally Posted October 23, 2013
This post is in reference to a specific day, where I was forced to be creative, and say what I am about to say. Unfortunately due to inclement weather it was tougher than leather to put any photographic memories together, so I had to adjust. It was a must that I chronicle this journey, for although my photos had to suffer, the experience was worthy. Therefore to remember this story, and I apologize it is for me, but I decided to write a poem. Now I can hear you begin to moan, but I beg you to bear with me, for I promise it will end in a jiffy. Although meant as a personal memory, tis indeed a tale of treachery. I simply needed to remember, so please put up with my blurbs. And with that I present you The Climbing of Monchique, in the following words…
An early rise to a day with anticipation abound,
A quick look outside was met with intermittent cloud.
Not the ideal conditions for the purpose of the trip,
But maybe I’ll luck out if I get up there quick.
A long walk to the station and a pleasant enough bus,
Made it to the city centre without much of a fuss.
‘Monchique’ read the sign in an unassuming manner,
The town was equally unassuming; I should have brought a planner.
Clouds overhanging and affecting the views,
All I knew was I needed to get higher, no excuse.
Selecting streets at random based on their incline,
I just hope I make it to a viewpoint in reasonable time,
But all of a sudden I stop on a dime; I spotted a trail.
A shepherd leading his goats, this old man was frail.
Onward and upward, an easy motto to swallow,
Simple enough, this old man I would follow.
Led did he to the ruins of an old church,
Fed was me to a man surrounded by birch.
I saw boarded up windows, doors and plenty of moss,
‘Señor!’ called out the man, he must have been the boss.
At a loss, I followed, through a questionable little doorway,
I kid you not, this tiny man’s name was Jorge.
In I went, met with the most pleasant of surprise,
A beautiful overgrown garden and crumbling cathedral, a treat for the eyes.
Gaps in the stones filled through with greenery,
Rooms with walls meeting no ceiling, a beautiful scenery.
Given the freedom to explore, I had to see more, to see what’s in store,
Around the next corner, okay, I’m a foreigner, so I will admit for a second I was considering the need for a coroner.
But not to worry, he was a very sweet man,
Even though he couldn’t speak English worth a damn.
Back to the forest I needed a new route,
Not to worry, I’m a resourceful de Vooght.
Saw the markings of some worn away grass,
This could be the beginning of my mountain pass.
After a while sprays of red and white appeared on random rocks,
Hiking onwards singing the Helplessness Blues of some fleeting fox.
Minutes led to an hour, trees standing like towers, and suddenly I felt the power,
Of being completely alone, no sight of home, no phone, just me, a collection of bones.
The rain was falling and covering me in wet,
Sorry Mother Nature, I wasn’t ready to quit just yet.
Onward and upward, the rain began to change,
Instead of falling drops, the moisture was mundane.
Hovering precipitation, damp, cold and proud,
Wait a minute; I’m in the middle of a cloud.
Existing with rain before it gives into gravity,
Constantly threatening with wicked depravity.
At this altitude the rain seems to substitute for air,
Whatever, I don’t even care.
Found was I climbing a simple enough trail,
But bored with that I promptly chose to bail.
Unkempt and rugged, the path up ahead looks perfect,
It seemed to lead higher, the views better be worth it.
Quickly immersed and surrounded by landscape,
Barely able to see ten feet ahead, should I be considering a plan of escape?
Only the pain in my legs acting as the compass for incline,
The will in my heart in search of summit images sublime.
Challenging conditions led to a final decision,
Who would have expected it to turn out as difficult as long division.
On a trail that was heading back on a curved line,
Dodging rocks, trees, and mud, just food and water on my mind.
Emerged from the trail, something was wrong,
This road doesn’t seem right, what is going on.
The road should be going up, not slanting down,
Perplexed, confused, I’m all turned around,
Look behind me at colours green and brown,
Nothing for miles, an hour from town,
Found on my face was panic and a frown,
Not for what you are thinking, but because I must go against advice that is sound.
“Never backtrack. Pave a new path,” said my wise and beautiful mother,
Advice that has stuck, but choices, I had no other.
Accepted, I began to repeat the path,
Attempting to remember, not a matter of math.
Forks and landmarks covered in a misty frost,
Did I need to come to terms with my possibly being lost.
Backwards I ventured, trying to trace my footprints,
Rain and mist making impossible a foot sprint.
Although high in the mountains where thoughts and air are clear,
One false step and I would experience what I fear,
Testing the theory if a hiker screams helpless in the wilderness, does anyone hear?
And then as if by premonition…
Quick pee break on a tree, nature’s urinal in the perfect position.
Back to the trail and easily found the road,
Forgot there was a granola bar in my bag, that sure is a load,
Off of my mind, and just in time, I arrive just fine,
With one last look up the mountain, a smile and a shiver up my spine.
Back to the bus, I’m ready for a beer,
The mud on my shoes and inspiration in my heart the only souvenir.
Take care.
No Regrets.
Pete