Why You Should Force Your Friends into Going on Adventures
Tickets were purchased, hut and hotel reservations were made, wool socks were purchased. We met at the Barcelona airport on an afternoon in early October, got in a rental car, and headed north. First, a night on the coast: cervezas by the sea, a sunset swim to wash off the economy class gunk, papas bravas, mariscos al ajillo, tortilla, croquetas, y más cervezas. Siempre más cervezas.
The following day we didn’t leave the (Salvador Dalí-themed) hotel to start the hike until mid-morning, after a backpack packing demonstration and a grocery store supply trip. This wasn’t in the detailed itinerary, which, it turns out, neither of my friends read in much detail anyway. Neither was the dull-edged hangover we each harbored; an Estrella-induced headache isn’t ideal for tackling ten miles and 4,600 feet of elevation. There is some camaraderie in a collective hangover though, and camaraderie is conducive for a long first day on the trail.