Somewhere In Spain

We’ve been carrying these huge backpacks and looking ridiculous throughout cities for the past month; we should probably do some actual camping.

It looks like there’s a bus that will take us toward the top of some mountain for hiking trails. We could probably camp somewhere up there.

Cool, let’s do it. Saves us a night or two in hostels, and it’ll make lugging this tent and backpack around for the past month seem less dumb.

Umm, I think we’re above the tree line here, there’s only rock, dirt, and open space on this trail, and it’s windy as hell. What are we going to do? No real place to stealthy camp out in the open.

You speak Spanish, maybe go in that ski bar and ask if there’s places to camp.

Bartender looked at me like I was an idiot. I think we’re out of luck.

Well, there are trees down there. The bus doesn’t come back until tomorrow. Maybe we head down.

It’s pretty steep; not sure how we’ll set up a tent.

Me neither.

Do you think this is someone’s land?

There’s a good chance, but we’ve been hiking for hours, and this is the flattest spot we’ve found; plus, there’s some sort of metal scaffolding over there we can sit on, eat dinner and watch the sunset over the valley.

Sounds good, tents tucked in the woods, dinner on the mystery scaffolding. Done.

I’m really glad we discovered cold cans of baked beans. It seems fitting right now.

How far do you think I can hit this rock with that stick? You played baseball growing up, right?

Yeah, for a while, when I was younger.

I didn’t make it past tee-ball. But rock and stick will always be fun.

Tomorrow morning we hike to the top of that mountain over there and back to the bus pick up.

Welp, no one found us. Time to hike back up.

Holy shit, are those wild horses. Oh man, they’re coming right at us. Should we be scared? Wait, do wild horses still exist, or is this someone’s ranch?

I don’t know, but it’s very hard not to sing the Rolling Stones right now.

Damn, that was crazy. Looks like they know where they’re going though. Maybe we follow them up.

Okay, back at this windy bus stop. Check camping off the list, I guess.

I can’t believe you go straight from here to South America for an undetermined amount of time. Tonight from the internet cafe, remind me, I’m going to send you my favorite Bukowski poem called “Roll the Dice” feels appropriate.

Looking forward to it.

When I get back, I’m going to find a way to move to SF. Who knows, maybe after South America, you will too.

Might have to.