PeterHogenkampWrites

I can't honestly tell you how many times I have hiked Pico Peak. A lot, let's leave it that. The number isn't important, and neither is the number of steps, stories and calories taken, ascended and burned along the way, but I kept track of them anyway. What is important, after a long, hot summer, is the crispness of the air that feels great on my skin and the soft crunch of the dessicated leaves underfoot. My constant companion Hermione, a feisty Cairn Terrier, sprints after a chipmunk and disappears into a covey of ferns. Further up the trail, Herm resurfaces from the forest and stops on the trail to lift a tiny leg in the direction of a stand of birches. A minute later a brace of grouse explodes into the air and disappears into a spruce thicket. Two-thirds of the way up we break out of the green tunnel and merge with a ski trail (see pic above.) Herm and I sit on a rock and sort through the various sundries I have stored in my backpack. There's an apple I forgo...

Let me the set the stage for you: it 's mid-July and my wife and I have just started a fabulous week at her aunt's villa on a hill high over Long Bay Beach, Tortola, British Virgin Islands, on e of th e nicest stretch es of white sand you are going to find in the world. So, what to do to get our vacation started off o n the right foot? Yu p, you guessed it: slip on the hiking sandals and trek up and over the ridge of volcanic rock that runs lengthwise over the entire island. T he obvious choice, right? Might I also mention that there is where the store is, and our condo wasn't stocked with coffee. (Please don't ask what happens when there is no coffee.) So, off I went, as my wife settled into the lounge chair by the pool. (She didn't want to come, can you believe it?)  Anyway, when I g ot home, drenched in sweat, hot as Cuba (my b uddy Bill says that) and reall y, really thirsty (who hikes in dew points as high as these? ) I decided to create this pict...