The Quasi-Intrepid Explorer

I used to motivate my children, when we were out hiking or traveling to new places, by describing us as intrepid explorers. I doubt they would call such talk motivating, but I had the purest of intentions. I certainly think of myself as an explorer, which I am. I also like to fashion myself an intrepid explorer. But in the cold light of reason, looking at myself from the outside, I'm afraid I have to disagree with me.

The truly intrepid explorer has a goal, a destination, and he or she or they will reach that destination regardless of atmospheric conditions, lethal impediments, or societal scorn. Such an adventurer laughs at gale force winds, impending monsoons, or nearby wildfires. There may be ravenous beasts, unfriendly natives, or deities who look down with disdain upon the enterprise, still the explorer's boundless intrepidity cannot be quelled.

But for some of us, that intrepidity is not quite so boundless. (Would that make it boundful?) We are the quasi-intrepid explorers. When I, for example, decide upon a destination, I have every intention of reaching it, so long as I don't have to get damp in the process. In the musical Les Miserables Éponine sings, "A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now." Sorry, É, I'm not in total agreement with you on that.

This last week Vlorë has experienced a period of rain. And while I have not been dampened much by it, my enthusiasm for long exploratory walks has been. But don't give up on me entirely. I did try once.

The morning had been precipitous, but the forecast called for a cessation, for a few hours, of the rain. So I set out for Kaninë Castle. That should have been about an hour and a half walk there and obviously another hour and half back. I was about an hour into my ramble when, seeing the cloud cover thicken and deepen, I had a tough decision to make.

I had already ascended quite some distance. While Vlorë is on the coast, the castle is up in the mountains. I had hiked well above the city already. Did I want to turn back?

The city below in the distance

That would mean I was heading downhill, always easier than up. But it would also mean a future foray to the castle would require I regain all that elevation a second time. So maybe I should just push on.

Proof of the steepness! (Why is that word not stepth?)

On the other side of the metaphorical coin, I had forgotten to bring what I lovingly refer to as my ugly hat. It is a fabric hat with a bill over my eyes and a flap over my neck. I almost always wear it for hikes and walks because it provides protection from sun (and ticks, but I wasn't worried about ticks on this particular excursion.) But flipping the coin back over, it's November now. The sun's rays are diffused, and with the cloud cover already present, sunburn wasn't a major concern.

In the end, the increasing threat of rain provided the boost I needed to make a decision. I turned around and headed back for Vlorë.

While I didn't reach my destination, I did see other interesting things of note. In particular, on the way back, I had a companion walking on the other side of the road, a goat. Apparently, a herd of goats was grazing on the sharp descent that was just past the road. One of these goats must have found a break in the safety barrier and gotten on to the road. It didn't seem happy about this fact, but also didn't seem to remember where its point of ingress and egress was. I must acknowledge the prowess of the goats though. I could have tried their path to get back down the mountain more quickly. However, I would have certainly fallen and fractured some things I prefer to keep whole (even more than I prefer to keep dry.) the goats, on the other hand, or the other hoof, found no discomfort in the near verticality of their terrain. I guess there is a benefit to having four legs. And being a goat.

Stuck on the road and maaaaad about it

I chose—wisely I believe—to keep the road between my fellow pedestrian and myself. I stayed on the uphill shoulder and the goat stayed on the downhill side. Many of you might, like the viral video idiots in Yellowstone who want selfies with bison, have thrown caution to the wind and approached more closely. (Why did the chicken not cross the road? Because there was a goat over there!) But me, well, I'm happy enough with a picture from across the street. After all, I'm only quasi-intrepid.