SLO LIFE Dec/Jan 2017

chocolates and cheese. Have screens become America’s
culture?
The next day included bouldering over our third 9,000-
foot pass. My knees and spirit were exhausted, and I found
myself singing an odd rendition of “Edelweiss” to keep
my mind off the terrain in front of me. I misjudged one
of the rocks, lost my balance, and was thrown backwards
by the weight of my heavy pack. Although it cushioned
what could have been a painful fall, my pack became firmly
wedged between two small boulders. There I was, stuck
in the middle of a massive rock pile, with my legs, arms,
and hiking sticks flailing in the air, like a turtle turned on
its shell. No matter how much I wriggled and jerked, I
could not set myself free. A group of French hikers finally
noticed my distress and as they were rushing to assist, I
broke free of the rocks and hobbled my way back to my
feet. Angry with both my headphone clad hiking partner
for not hearing my squeals for help and myself for having
a ridiculously heavy pack, we decided to ditch the camping
theme of the trip and opt for the comforts of the Cabane.
Cabanes are the Swiss word for hostel or dormitory. Most
have large sleeping rooms that house 20-30 guests. Each
guests is provided with a sleeping pad, small pillow and wool
blanket. Guests pay between $60-150 per person per night
including dinner and breakfast. Communal bathrooms and
showers are standard, as are family-style dinners. Having
stayed in plenty of hostels, I found them quite comforting,
like going home for Thanksgiving, but my hiking partner,
having never slept in a communal room, found the whole
experience a bit disturbing, at the very least, undesirable.
Some Cabanes were settled in small towns, others were
perched on a hillside, or nestled in a valley at the bottom of
a steep descent. Although unique in structure and landscape,
each was filled with a similar cast of characters from all over
the world: hikers wearing zip-away pants, hikers reading
guide books, hikers clinging to their Nalgenes, hikers sharing
stories of adventures in different languages. Despite all the
different religions, philosophies, and beliefs, gathered around
the table each night, we were all united in our common
mission to walk the Alps. Our complicated lives had become
simple. When the sun rises, we wake up, eat breakfast, and
begin to walk. When it sets, we shower (if lucky), eat dinner,
and go to sleep. And, in between, is the sole task of putting
one foot in front of the other. There are no task lists, or calls
to make. No cell service or Wi-Fi. Our only connections are
the people around us.
The farther into the Alps we delved, the landscape changed
from pastures and boulders to snow and shale. Each day
offered a different shade of nature. As if all of its various
facets were laid out for us to explore: lakes, rocks, woods,
snow, rain, sunshine, wind. The Alps served up a kaleidoscope
of natural beauty that leaves its visitors in awe.
By the end of our adventure, I not only had a much lower
bar for enjoyment: Nescafé became invigorating, a ham and
cheese sandwich was divine, sleeping on a floor pad felt like
heaven, and a $10 bottle of red wine was a treat. I also felt
inspired to trade two of the ten hours a day I normally
spend on my screen, to just being outdoors. San Luis
Obispo County, with its vast open spaces, captivating
peaks, and miles of hiking trails should easily trump
staring at a screen. So let’s put down our devices, and head
for our hills. SLO LIFE
88 | SLO LIFE Magazine | Dec/jan 2017