Chapter 14: New Maps, Backpacks, and Paths

Chapter 14: New Maps, Backpacks, and Paths

By midweek, I decided I no longer wanted to limit my world to the stretch of white sand on the beach or the cliff path. The pain had receded enough to leave room for curiosity. During one of my walks through town, I stopped to talk to an elderly local, a man with a weathered face from the northern cold who was mending nets near the pier. With my slow English, I asked him about hidden places, trails or natural corners that were worth visiting in the surroundings of Vik.

The old man, pleased by my genuine interest, took a crumpled map from his coat pocket and gave me detailed directions to local routes, valleys hidden between the mountains, and icy waterfalls that ordinary tourists often missed. I listened to him carefully, jotting down every detail in my mind.

This week would be about that. To explore, to open my eyes to the world and to let myself be surprised by the untamed geography of this beautiful country.

I returned to the cabin determined to plan my daily walks. I pulled out my mountain backpack, the one that had been lying in a closet for fifteen years because Anthony didn't like to walk or get his boots dirty. I cleaned the tarp, checked the zippers, and started packing the essentials: the local's map, a bottle of water, my thermos for coffee, a light blanket, and some food for the road.

Before putting my backpack on my shoulder for my first big excursion, I went out to the terrace to leave my daily sign. I looked up at the cabin on the hill. He was there, also adjusting a windbreaker jacket, as if the wind of adventure had blown us both at the same time. It didn't take words to know that, although we walked on different paths, we were both marching in the same direction: that of recovering our own lives.