7 - still
Groups of Belgians, Poles, Germans (Austrians?) and Italians, all half our age, finished up their meals and chats in the dining room of Rifugio Caldanave. We lingered over coffee and the most amazing apple streudel. The staff was a group of Italian young adults spending their summer in this remote area, kind of like an American summer camp. I’m sure they had seen their fair share of injured hikers. We began discussing what to do in the morning, as we obviously would not be completing the trek.
Caldanave is in an area without roads. Each spring, they have a helicopter literally drop a pallet of supplies for the summer. It costs the rifugio $5000 for the drop - landings are an additional $500 per minute. A helicopter rescue did not seem like an option at that price. The next option was to hike to the nearest rifugio which had a paved road where we could pick up a taxi back to our car. That was a 2-hour walk for a healthy person. I went to bed feeling a little overwhelmed by that prospect, but I didn’t want to think about it right then.
Margarita, one of the staff members helped us get settled into our bunk room along with the others. Our roommates were two young ladies from Belgium, a physical therapist and a physician. There was also a German/Austrian man and his teen son on the third level of bunks. The girls encouraged me to rest, ice and get an x-ray as soon as possible. There was a community bathroom, with two showers and a big double sink. The “toilet” was just a hole in the floor not uncommon in older buildings in Europe. We used to call them “squatty potties” when our kids were younger. No fun when you are 8 months pregnant or when you have an injured ankle. The shower was wonderful and I managed to scrape together some dry clothes from Kirk’s pack. First time ever wearing his underwear, which could pass for athletic shorts on me…glad we said goodbye to tighty-whities many years ago.
One hilarious story: The small showers were part of the larger bathroom, and just behind a shower curtain. You had to gingerly disrobe and place your clothes on a hook outside the shower itself. Kirk did not know about this hook, and just started hanging his sweaty things on the tension rod holding the curtain. He turned around to turn on the shower, and, plop - the whole curtain fell to the floor, leaving him in all his glory. He said his recovery happened so fast he doesn’t remember who was in the bathroom brushing their teeth, if anyone.
As we settled into bed, Kirk marveled at how God met us on this trek. “He guided us and helped you take each step and hold out hope that we would make it. He provided all these wonderful people, even doctors and physical therapists, to be His hands and feet for us.”
After a fitful night, and a precarious trip to the squatty-potty in the dark (they turn off the power at bedtime), I got a piggy-back ride to breakfast. The staff had been talking and offered us another option. If we could wait until 2:00, Shevek, the cook could drive us to the other rifugio, but we’d still have to walk a few miles to his car. Weekly, one of the staff walks a few miles through the forest with some of the week’s garbage on their back and guides a generator-operated cart with tracks, full of propane tanks and more trash to where they keep a car on a remote dirt road. I’m not sure which day of the week they normally do this, but they offered to do it that day. That was a no-brainer. Our best option yet! They arranged a taxi to meet us at the other rifugio, and called ahead for us to the other places we were expected at along the trek.
So for 4 or 5 hours, we had literally nothing to do. We watched our new friends set off on the next leg of the trek we were supposed to take. Kirk talked with Shevek while he made the day’s desserts. I iced my swelling ankle and propped it up. We ordered up a plate of handmade pasta and ragu. We practiced our memory work, reflecting on how God was our strength the day before, and how this place with these kind people was the refuge He provided. We sat in the warm sun with our thoughts about what we’d been through. This was the “be still and know that I am God” part.
We planned to meet Shevek at 2:00, so we set out earlier than he did. Kirk loaded most of the weight into his pack. I donned my makeshift crutches, aka trekking poles and we walked an easy trail for about an hour through the woods to the meeting point. We could hear him coming before we could see him, as the contraption he was walking behind was powered by a noisy generator. He looked like a ragged Santa with a huge black trash bag on his back and his sleigh full of propane tanks and garbage. He drove us down the strada bianca (“white road”) perched on cliffs until we popped out of the forest at Rifugio Carlettini. Caffe was ordered and a friendly chat ensued until dear Shevek was on his way. Our taxi arrived shortly thereafter.
