The Hard Road

by Elizabeth Sunshine Strait (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Costa Rica

At ten thirty in the morning, my friend asked if I wanted to hike a mountain two hours away. Before eleven, we were on the road. We’d compared schedules for my last four days and realized that it would either be now or (maybe) my next tip to Costa Rica, so we took the leap and chose to do it then instead of risking ‘later’ becoming ‘never’. I’m impulsive like that, much to the chagrin of my family and occasionally myself. Why do I have to be so irresponsible? Why can I not remain content with the security of being chained to a desk forty hours a week with reliable income and benefits? Instead, I’m always taking the hard road. We found a handprinted sign at the base of Cerro Pelado pointing up an unobtrusive driveway. There was a guy pitching a tent and an old man standing nearby who confirmed that this field was the place to park. The guy pitching the tent decided to take the opportunity to hike with company and save the old man a trip, so he picked out a walking stick and joined us as we headed up the dirt road. We stopped at a barbed wire gate and the old man explained that we should lock it behind us on our way back. At the time, I didn’t even think to ask about other hikers who might follow. The mountain loomed above us as we marched through a picturesque meadow. He took us to the edge of the trees and warned us about snakes before turning around. We made it through the forrest and emerged at the windblown tree-line. The trudge up from there was steep, windy, and slippery with shale. Elevation changes in Coast Rica can be intense, so waking up on the beach at sea level and deciding on a whim to hike up to over 9,000 feet was mildly ambitious. We were an hour and a half in to the hike. My steps were becoming sloppy, and I’d broken my walking stick. I was starting to wonder if I would be able to catch my breath when my thighs began to burn. ‘Will I make it?’ I thought just as the sharp incline mellowed out and an unbelievable gust of wind propelled me forward. In front of us—beyond a truly sublime drop—we could see the Gulf of Nicoya and the peninsula beyond. Turning around we could see for miles inland. Our smiles proved it was well worth the effort. There was a rocky peak to the left which would require some real bouldering to technically summit Cerro Pelado, but with the insane wind and no ropes I chose to stay behind as my friend went up alone. I sat with the guy we’d met at the base and talked about life and finding our path. I sheepishly came to the fact that I’d backed out of a wedding after going so far as to buy the dress, and he pointed out that I chose the easy road that time—I wasn’t expecting that. He told me how he’d gotten married—and then divorced. Maybe everyone chooses the kind of hard their road will be. I considered that I wouldn’t be on top of that beautiful mountain if I’d gotten married; looking back, I knew my journey was worth the destination. He decided he wanted to check out the slightly taller but more grassy peak that was off to the right just as my friend descended, so we went along. It required some scrambling over boulders but was relatively easy, and it was clearly wide at the top—no chance of being blown off by the wind. We crested the mountain to a crowd of people, both young and old. Couples were taking selfies as their kids looked bored nearby, young guys struck their best mountaineering pose for their friends, and grandmothers chased babies. Now I could see the wide and even trail leading up the other side of the mountain where families of four could easily make their way to the top. I looked over my shoulder at the broken path behind me, and I couldn’t help but prefer my hard road.