Montserrat

Hanna has been pestering me to write about Montserrat, and while my entry on the Diamond Pony Pineapple Guardians is also pressing, I have decided The Mountain comes first.

It happened by mistake. We underestimated the time it would take to get to the train station and by the time we arrived the train to Valencia was long gone. We could have caught another one, but the previous night a friend suggested we go to Montserrat - a mountain housing a monastery that he knew from his grandfather's travels during the war. There is a sort of sneaky joy at following the wind and engaging these silly whims, so we caught the next train to Montserrat instead. Or at least we tried.

Despite waking up at six AM, we didn't actually make it to Montserrat until 2PM (It's about an hour outside of Barcelona). We were advised to take the wrong train - which we did - all the way out and back - which took about two or three hours, and then when we finally thought we were on the right train and got off at what we thought was the right stop, we realized the mountain was still a valley away and the train station we'd stopped at was deserted, boarded up, and covered in graffiti.

Awesome.

That was about when we met Betty:

We met Betty because she was the only person within easy walking distance of the abandoned train station.  We told her we needed to get to Montserrat, and she laughed at us and went back in her house. Hanna and I, somewhat dumbfounded, watched as she returned with keys and pointed to her car. Oh god. I don't need to hablo to comprendo that.

She looked cheerful, was wearing orange, and we were in the middle of hella nowhere. So what did we do?

Yes, yes, we got in the car.

I videod the whole thing - just in case she killed us - but it turns out that Betty is just one of those genuinely awesome human beings. She drove us the several kms to the funicular at the base of the mountain, and we promptly rode it to the monastery about halfway up the mountain.

Going up!

So we make it to the Monastery, both of us in interesting moods given the amount of travel mishaps we've had, and the lack of food that went along with it. We ask the information booth what the most beautiful place to take pictures is, and she smiles and says "The top of the mountain".

It's a 2-3 hour hike. Upwards. The mountain is 1.2 miles high. There is no water, no bathrooms, nothing but blazing sunshine and steep rock steps.

About this time, my Challenger persona flicks on. I have been given a difficult task and enough time to do it before nightfall. I am capable and stubbornly motivated. I want to climb the mountain, crushes and memes aside, to prove to myself that I can.

So we buy food and water and we start to climb the mountain.

And lo, we made it to the top.

Challenge met, obstacle overcome. We went home exhausted and empowered - as it should be.

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