Idiosyncratic hiking

One of the issues we face in the Spanish hiking group we belong to, is how to describe the urge, that all of us experience from time to time (me, at my age, perhaps more than the average), to disappear for a moment into the bushes.

Most of the Spaniards we walk with call that a visit to the ‘baños publicos’ which, strictly speaking, means the public baths. But since it’s not unusual for us to refer to the ‘bathroom’ in English too, even though we mean a place in which there is no bath, and indeed in which we have no intention of plunging ourselves into a large tub of hot water, we should perhaps be a little indulgent towards that euphemism.

Talking about euphemisms of that kind, the one I really like is the American ‘restroom’. With Americans or, even better, in the United States, I like to announce that, “I’m going for a rest”. They don’t generally seem to have any idea what I mean, even though ‘restroom’ is their own term for the destination I have in mind.

But back to ‘baños publicos’. I always suggest to my Spanish friends that this is perhaps a little vulgar. That we should use an expression that’s somehow more clinical, even more professional, in tone.

My suggestion? “I need to treat a minor urological condition.” 

I feel that has a much better ring to it. Unfortunately, it’s my impression that my fellow walkers think I’m just taking the piss.

I like our fellow walkers. Especially the leader of our group, one Javi (pronounced – roughly – Habi, with the ‘a´ a bit like, though not a lot like, the ‘u’ in ‘cut´). That’s short for Xavier, a fairly common name here in Spain. He works on building or maintaining footpaths all around the Valencia region and, as a hobby, takes groups like ours out Nordic walking, with never a charge for the privilege. And a privilege it certainly is.

Javi with his trademark smile

Now one of the things that Javi likes to do, apart from keeping everyone amused with his humour and his lively smile, is navigate – perhaps I should just say find our way – without reliance on boring modern innovations like the internet. He uses some electronic device that he holds in his hand and consults from time to time, but I have no idea how it works. Or whether it works. It seems not to be internet-connected, because whenever Danielle suggests to him that we use an application on her phone, he refuses saying that, “part of the pleasure is the discovery”.

This means that it’s not entirely unknown for us to have to backtrack occasionally, to take a different path than the one we’ve spent a few minutes going down in error. But what does that matter? He’s entirely right about the pleasure of the thing. What are a few minor digressions among friends? We go on those hikes for fun, not to engage in some kind of scientific exercise. We can keep the science for managing our affairs at home. The walks are for amusement, and even the digressions contribute to amusing us.

Our hikes: fine places, occasional challenges, and Patxaran

They are, in any case, quite a good thing, because it means we walk rather further than planned and, after all, the whole idea of the walk is to get exercise. This way we get more than we’d bargained for. And at no extra charge, except in energy and shoe leather (or, in my case, shoe rubber).

Actually, he also has another nice trick for getting us to walk further than we thought we were going to. It happened the other day, when he took the group for a reasonably short walk, of nine kilometres. After nearly two kilometres, he  announced, “that was a present from me to you all. We've reached the start of the walk. We're doing nine kilometres from here”.

Good for the body. Perhaps, in some weird way, good for the soul too.

Besides, he always gets us to some pretty remarkable places, every time, without fail. Places that take our breath away by their beauty, places that challenge our agility by making us do things we probably wouldn’t have done otherwise or, as on one memorable occasion, places that allow us to collect the ingredients for that wonderful intoxicating liquor, Patxaran.

This all makes Javi’s methods of navigation highly effective. On the other hand, they are, shall we say, somewhat idiosyncratic. So, as I’ve come up with my own description of those little dashes into the bushes, I’ve come up with a word for Javi’s approach to route finding: Javigation.

When I launched the new term on our most recent march, it was greeted with laughter – OK, OK, chuckles, but I’ll take whatever I can get – though he didn’t seem that charmed by it himself. To the point where I worried that I might have offended him. Which isn’t something I’d willingly do.

So it was a great relief that, when we parted company at the end of the walk, he called cheerily after me, “See you soon, when I can be your Javigator again”.

A man after my own heart. One who can take a tease and make it his own. Who can turn a potentially upsetting label and make it into badge to wear with a smile. The smile that’s his trademark.

Definitely a good guy to lead our hikes. However erratic his Javigation..