Peace Walk

        By a mountain lake where the air is thin,
        You may hear sweet music begin -
        Lucid notes floating high on the air.
        Mr. B. and his flute are there.

There was no reason to hurry through the valley, and much enticement to linger, for a fine clear mountain hike transforms us and takes us out of ourselves into the pure essence of good company.  John, as usual, had knocked on each door to invite us on the hike.  Byron said he was too tired.  "Let's save him from the 'slug attack'," said John.  He gestured for me to turn up the music in the next room.  Soon, Byron dragged himself out of bed.

Once we arrived at the frigid lake, we discovered a low cable stretched across it.  It was John who issued the challenge:  "I bet I could make it across on that cable."  He strayed out a few yards, experimentally.  The effort of keeping his feet from dragging in the near-freezing water must have been too much, because he turned right around.  Having seen this dearth of fortitude and lack of determination, I posited it could be done in the manner of a sloth, using the hands and the heels of the shoes to crawl, inverted, across the lake.  Forthwith, I was thrust into the role of demonstrator.  Carefully, almost comfortably, I proceeded to vanquish the challenge.

After a spectacular summit ascent, we picknicked - daring to leave ourselves only thirty minutes for the descent and embarkation.  Our 'forest walk' was stellar.  That was our name for a peak hiking experience.  We bounded from one switchback around and down to the next, except for Byron - overweight, with sore knees.  The springy, peat-like path in this Northernmost of rain forests made a soft thud with each landing of a bound as the six of us bounced down, our hearts racing.  The stirring presto finale brought us back to the cruise ship with ample time for high fives and the admiration of our more lethargic peers.  We refreshed ourselves on orange juice, the sweet nectar welcoming us back to the floating hotel.  That night, during the dance set, we improvised a cha-cha version of 'Lullaby of Birdland' that quickly became one of our mainstays.  Life was good.

Three months later, I was to permanently disembark.  Sad though it seems, it was quite timely, as I was to hit thirty.  My advice to all young folks:  music is your ticket to the world.  However, do not turn thirty while you are floating around in a sea of confusion.  Get living while you can!