terça-feira, 24 de outubro de 2017

Day 11: When the going gets tough...

... the tough get tougher. If I'm not tough, I'm probably a bit off. There are two problems with the circumstances that led me to the predicament of no-compliance with the dress-code (or better: shoe-code) featured on the warning sign I was supposed to respect. First, much as I wished to be a traveller, I'm a just another bloody tourist. Second, reading too much National Geographic and watching too much Discovery Channel makes you want to go places: all places. That and my life-long infatuation with David Attenborough... Anyway, going back to the warning sign. Extreme heat: check (it was 45ºC/113ºF, eat that!). One bottle of water per person: check (see the bag I'm carrying? Packed with bottles of water). Wear hat: check (since when don't I wear a hat in summer?). No sandals: sorry, you won't catch me in trekking shoes anytime soon. No can do.
The warning signs were conspicuous. Threatening. Meant to infuse you with, if not terror, at least apprehension as to what you might be venturing into. I confess a part of me took the warnings seriously. After years of derring-do in this vast world that might have gone terribly wrong (and some that did), I have learnt to be humble in the presence of untamed Nature. The signs were there for a reason.
I assumed there wouldn't be any snakes lurking on the path I was to follow until I reached the Majesty I had come to see, so the sandals wouldn't be much of a problem. The heat and the (lack of) water were the main concerns. Equipped with plenty of water, sun-glasses and water, we ventured into the wilderness and walked the almost two miles that separated us from our goal under the scorching sun. To say it was burning hot is literally an understatement. 
Did we survive to tell the story? I guess we did or I wouldn't be here giving notice of things past. What was at the end of our walk is something my eyes will never forget and neither will I...

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