This was supposed to be a post on how I went paragliding just so I wouldn’t have to hike down a mountain, instead it’s a post on how we felt like crying for our moms.
Ben Lomond Track: 8hrs return, no kilometer information provided (but let’s assume a lot)
Self described “hikers” at the hostel did it in 5.5hrs and “couldn’t possibly have done it any slower,” but, guys, it’s not the time it takes that matters, it matters that we finished.
Things that were said on the way up:
“No paragliding today, no wind” – guy at the paragliding office who dashed my hopes of saving my knees and being able to tell everyone who bungee jumped that I had at least paraglided
“That part was not as hard as everyone said” – the beginning hour
“This is no Roy’s Peak” – the hike with beautiful views that destroyed me
“I’m getting wiffs” – said mutliple times as the smell of sweat and gross dirty clothes, held in by a rain jacket, made their way up through the neck opening and reached my noise
“You know what would be good for dinner? Curry”
“It’s so cold!”
“Icicles in my face!!!!” – yelling as though that would stop the mini hail from pounding my face
“If I die up here, what would I regret?”
“I can’t believe we did that, I’m so proud of us”
“I’m so cold”
“Are you kidding me?” – when it seemed like toddlers and pensioners were passing us with gusto on the way down.
“I want my mommy!” When the descent would just not end and we wished we could call an Uber.
On the bright side, we did it! And, my usual post big hike grunt of “oh fudge” everytime I walk down stairs, has been replaced with a minor wimper – so, progress!