The Long Trek – Part 1: Day Four

"I'm never doing this again," said Marcus.

"You said that yesterday."

"I meant it yesterday. Today I mean it harder."

Sofia laughed and passed him the water bottle. They were sitting on a rock above a milky blue lake, with the great granite towers rising behind them, jagged against a huge sky. The wind pulled at their jackets. It was day four of a five-day trek in the Chilean mountains, an anniversary gift they had given each other after twenty years of marriage and two teenagers.

Sofia was forty-two, strong-legged and sunburnt. Marcus was forty-five, greying and limping slightly. They had bickered over the map, the tent poles and the pronunciation of every place name. They had also, she realised, not looked at their phones in four days.

"Look at us," she said. "We look terrible."

"We look like people who have been outside."

At the mountain hut that evening they ate lentil stew with strangers from six countries, then were shown to a bunk room with a tiny private alcove for couples. Two thin mattresses, one blanket, a candle.

"Romantic," said Marcus.

"There's a smell of wet socks."

"That too."

Sofia pulled off her boots and groaned. Marcus knelt in front of her and, without a word, started rubbing her aching feet. She stared at him. "Marcus."

"Yes?"

"We haven't done this since the honeymoon."

"I know." He smiled up at her. "Terrible oversight."

Continue the story: Part 2 – Wind Break.

Continue the story: Part 2 – Wind Break.