Animal

Today we´re at the zoo. It´s a fair-sized outdoor operation in the shadow of Cerro Pan de Azúcar. I´ve seen a stork and a jaguar and a puma and a snake, and an ant eater and an owl and a cat and a big spider and an emu.

Then comes the serious business of climbing Cerro Pan de Azúcar, Uruguay´s third highest point. Luckily Uruguay´s third highest point is not unlike Amsterdam´s equivalent. It´s more a hill than a mountain. That´s not to say I´m not huffing and puffing, as Steve, who is mountaineers much of the year, marches upwards unmercifully. At one point, not far behind, but in third place of three, I hear the word "rest". Steve and Chris´ idea of "rest" was no more than eight seconds, by my count - certainly not enough time for water. I begin to dislike Steve as he makes quick work of the terrain, but then I remember Carl Weathers and Uncle Xian. This is how it must be.

At the top, I´m still with the pack, but still comfortably third. There´s a thirty five metre crucifix to climb in and up. Thirty metres up, in the ceiling, at the end of each beam of the cross, there´s two openings. Each is a little over half a metre wide by thirty centimetres in width. One is covered by a rusty metal panel, but on the otherside, the panel is missing. I sense mischief to be had. I reckon I´m thin enough to squeeze through half a metre by thirty centimetres. Sitting atop the beam of the cross, unprotected from a moderate gust, the panoramic of flat, distant, gently rolling Uruguayan countryside and sea is just lovely. I only wish I had some of my more stupid friends here to boyishly goad me into walking around up there. CJ and I would be all over it. As it stands, I don´t have the guts for it under my only own motivation.

East London boy, Steve, is worth further detail, he´s got a handful of years over me and has lived the life of champions in them. He worked in computers in and around London, then, some eight years ago, he upped sticks and made for South America. He´s got a small income coming from London, but only deals in odd jobs for extra cash. He spends all of his time mountaineering, skiing, climbing, ice climbing, diving, and occasionally sailing. Even his odd jobs include crewing yachts to Antartica or holding down birds for scientists to tag and study them. It´s a simple, heroic life.

In Conan The Barbarian, Conan is asked "What is best in life". Conan´s immortal answer: "To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women." Whilst I tend not to question Arnold´s reply, and his teachings in general, I wonder how I would answer. I like beer - delicious real ale. But, a close second is adventuring. Once upon a time, working in an office was the dream. In the dream I would wear a business suit and have business cards and do various business-related things. It made sense to me, once upon a time. But shortly after realising the dream, everything crashed and burned, like the hindenburg in slow motion. I´m not sure if it was me, or the world around me. Probably sixty-forty. Maybe seventy-thirty. The eighties are gone, replaced by paperwork, carfeully saved down on a computer server in the arsehole of nowhere, in PDF and XLS format. Still, I enjoyed most of my few corporate, ale-drenched years.