Are You Alright?

"Are you alright? ... are you OK?" chorused the hikers at the old gent sprawled at their feet.  "I'm OK, alright" I responded -- scrambling embarrassedly to my feet, checking my camera which had hit the rocks with a thump, ignoring the blood running down my hand, checking my hiking pant knee for a tear -- "I'm fine, I'm OK" I lied -- since I was not alright.  I was mad, mad at me; at my hiking partner who was admonishing me for going "too fast"; at my stupid, telescoping, spring-loaded Haute Route hiking pole which had gotten me down to Hidden Lake the day before, up Tiger Mountain last week, and up 2,700 feet to top of Cape Town's Table Mountain two weeks back. "I'm fine" I lied.

Table Mountain over Cape Town -- 3500'

Glacier Trail to Hidden Lake

We were on the trail to Iceberg Lake, five miles out from Many Glacier in Glacier National Park, a extraordinarily lovely hike.  And I was not going too fast, just setting a nice, rhythmic pace.  Usually she sets the pace but I was in my stride, at her pace, so she did not pass as she often does to leave me lagging behind.  Too fast for an old gent, was her infuriating implication.  "I was not trying to go fast" I protested, as we mopped up the blood and bandaged the knuckles which had hit hard when I looked up to thank hikers that had given way, caught the pole in a crack, wrapped my foot around it and went down hard on the rock strewn trail.  "I was not showing off.  I was not rushing -- I just tripped, damnit!"  (In truth, I was enjoying setting a good pace for the two of us.  Pride goeth before a fall, indeed.)

Cape Town from atop Table Mountain

Glacier  Trail to Iceberg Lake, in the Cirque Beyond

What I was really not OK about was the nagging worry that I might be getting tippy now well into my ninth decade.  I have trouble these days standing on one foot to put on the other sock; I seem to wobble a bit from time to time; I find myself reaching for banisters which I used to eschew.  And I was conscious of age, since the Glacier trip was a birthday present to myself.

But we stood atop Table Mountain.  We rowed for an hour and a half in Steamship Slough and around Otter Island Saturday, in the delta of the Snohomish, but one doesn't get tippy crewing an eight with feet in stretchers and butt on a slide.  And the hand didn't overly bother me.  And I had walked down nineteen stories of Horizon House on Friday to stretch the calves and loosen the knees.  I'm alright... right?

"I'm alright; I'm OK" I'll keep parroting with a smile -- but inside there's that nagging doubt: am I really as alright as I'd like to be?  As I used to be?  Psychologically and happiness-wise, I've never been more alright ... but damn that treasonous hiking pole.