Deliberate Steps

Lessons from hiking

All photos by author

We climb the steep rugged trail as best we can, using the protruding rocks to plant our feet and the hardy eucalyptus shrubs and roots to grab with our hands. Sometimes we find ourselves on all fours, like mountain goats, looking for footholds and handholds to hoist ourselves up the large rocks. It’s a path we’ve taken most years. But we’re 21 years older than we were the first time we took it. Yet, we’re pretty sure we can still do it.

The path, located on the Cap Sicié, a small massif that juts out into the Mediterranean in southern France, starts out gently enough on a wide track surrounded by grassy patches, rock rose and wild broom. It slowly climbs through the forest of cork trees, white oaks and juniper narrowing as it wends its way along the coastline of the Mediterranean. When it reaches the Aleppo pines, it starts to seriously steepen and here we are, scrambling for a good one hundred yards. This was the “delicate passage” that the trail notes told us about. The hard muscle work is worth the effort even if Jim is bleeding from a thorn scratch. Down below, the harbor and town spread out before us surrounded by the turquoise water. The sun glistens on the sea.

There’s still a way to go to get to the top where the chapel of Notre Dame du Mai sits prominently. But the rest of the trail, though narrow and rugged at times, will not be as challenging as this section. We’ll cross a stone ridge, trek through more forest, and climb the steepest blacktop road that leads to the chapel.

And there it sits, on the edge of the cliffs, in its Provençal colors of warm yellow and green. The sun beats down on us, on it and on the sea below, a sight to see.

As we head back down, we take our time, weighing each step, placing each foot deliberately. We notice the shine on protruding rocks that tells us how many feet rubbed against these stones to find their footing. We stop to smell the scents of these hills full of pine and rosemary warmed by the sun.

In another life, we left the chapel and ran back down the trail. In another life, we walked the whole way from our gîte and then along the long winding road back. In another life, we hiked the trail then hiked to the castle ruins on the next hill over. This time, we’re happy we made it up and then back down in three hours. It’s the small things.

These days, as I walk the trail of life, I take these pointers with me. Be deliberate. Weigh each step. Use all of your body. Take your time. Find the rhythm. Stop and look around. Despite the thorns, despite the hard work, there’s always a view ahead if I look for it. Here, in the south of France, away from my usual routine, I’m still learning what it means to live a full and rich life and I continue to discover the rewards that come with it.