Stabbed by a Spaniard

Our Adventure Southland instructors have recently been covereing the topic of hiking. It doesn't sound to complicated, right? You find a trail and walk. Third-graders could do it. But oh no, my friend. This is not hiking. This is tramping. It's like hiking but different:

1) No taking trails allowed
2) You will be given a grid reference and will have to get there using whatever means necessary (ie crawling through prickly forrests, chopping down trees, tresspassing golf courses and shooting ranges, hopping over barbedwire and electric fences)
3) You will only be given a map and a compass
4) Sometimes we will give you only a compass
5) Sometimes we will give you only a map
6) Rain and wind must always come with it

And so this has been class during the last few weeks: tramping with or without a compass and a map. Every day I pack my essentials (http://listitup.blogspot.com/2008/04/things-to-always-have-with-youin-new.html) and wear my thermals, basket ball shorts, and hiking boots. Once we stopped by a river and made a floating fire holder by weaving flax together. I like flax.

Just the other day I returned from the Three-Day Tramping Extravaganza. I'll be honest, I was little grumpy the first day. Not because I don't enjoy tramping, I really do enjoy wandering away from the trail. But I was just sick of being surrounded by people all the time. I love all these people but a little alone time sounds mighty delightful sometimes. (I am SO excited to go ALONE to Borders when I get back to the States). We crossed a swing bridge made of chainlink fence. I saw Red Beeches. Those are the trees used as Ents in Lord of the Rings.

I'm not gonna lie, the first day was pretty bad. I just wanted to be alone. It was taking everybody so long to decide on bearings and directions and counting steps and I absolutely hate waiting. I hate standing in lines. I hate red lights. I hate standing around doing nothing. And we were doing a lot of that.

We got to camp and had to make a bivvy. This is short for bacavala (or something like that). It means "hut you make from what you got". So using a tarp, rope, rocks, and a few clove hitches we made one communial sleeping area for 18 people. Boy did we cuddle it up!

I was one of the elite few who got to sleep on the edge. The tarp was right at my face and dripped condensation and the rain during the night nailed my sleeping bag pretty good. Thank goodness I was warm and dry inside my bag. It kept raining the rest of the morning. I didn't mind it so much. I woke up a lot happier on the second day. I started to remember how much I love these people.

We tramped in the rain. I led the group up the river until it ran into another river at which point we went straight up the mossy ridge. Moss is gorgeous. I love the way it coates trees. I love the way it's soft to sit on. I love the way it gives when you step on it and it makes your knees feel better when you're going down hill. I do not like the way it gives when you're going up hill. But I managed.

After we passed the tree line we had to cross over to the other ridge to meet group A. It was windy and with each step everyone would grab hold of the nearest plant so that if you fall at least you'll be holding on to something. And that's when I was stabbed by spaniards. Several of them. They were everywhere! They look nice but they have knives at the end of their leaves. They will stab you in the butt and arms and anything else they can jab. So now I'm holding on for dear life on all the soft grassy plants and trying to avoid to Spaniard bushes. I've never been so reliant or afraid of plants before.

Don't worry. We found group A...but then had to hike the never-ending mountain. Just when you think you reached the top you would see more mountain. It hailed (but it's better than rain because you don't get wet) and my knees were killing me. I found it hard to balance on falling rocks with a big pack. It was a little anerving. When we got to the bottom we all hudled next to a big rock. I really like scroggin mix. (Trail mix). It's times like these when I'm hudled for warmth next to a rock that I really appreciate my peanuts and raisins.

Two hours later we were at camp and this time made our bivvy in record time because we had learned from the night before. Brooke, learning from last night, decided it would be wise to sleep in her sleeping bag and then inside her pack liner so that rain wouldn't get her wet. Smart.

Frost. Everywhere. The condensation on the tarp. The ground. My socks. My shoes. The bra on the tree left to dry from yesterday. Stoves. Pots. Bags. Granola bars. It had all frosted over. Including Brooke in her unbreathable pack liner. Secretly I laugh.

That last day was great. I learned to really use mother nature as a toilet. We hiked on the last day because we got to follow a trail. (Yay!) And then we got to the vans. I love the vans. I feel like home in the vans. I have really come accostomed to being a passenger with 11 others in big white vans. I think I've spent a solid two weeks-104 hours-in a van...if not more.

At the end of the hiking we did mini presentations about what we have learned from our outdoor courses. Team A did the "I love the mountains" song but replaced the words with things like "I love the Tony coats, I love sleeping in the rain, I love the weather clouds, I love surfing with Wayne. Boomdiada, Boomdiada..."

Team B (my team) reinacted the good and bad experiences from each class.

Kayaking

• Good-Jackapo rolling himself in a kayak
• Bad-Me in the kayak

Surfing

• Good-KPax and Stephanie getting the knack really fast
• Bad-Jessica breaking her toe

Rock Climbing

• Good-lead climbing
• Bad-Haeree and Jackapo falling

Tramping

• Good-gigantic spooning fest under a tarp
• Bad-gettingstabbed by Spaniards