Natures finds the way.

I hate when this happens, he said to himself aloud, not really believing the words. In truth he had the intention of getting lost from the very moment he took the first step out of his house. Now he was where he wanted to be, nowhere.

Nowhere was not an ugly place at all, the dry grass shone golden under the afternoon sun and the scarce bushes and trees spotted the low hills and cliffs that surrounded the lake making them look like the back of some wild cat from Africa. I don’t even mind the smell, which was not a very nice one. The lake was so polluted that swimming in it would bring a rash in the skin of anyone who tried, swallowing water would mean much worse. All the sewers from the city dropped their shit into a river which flow loaded everything into the lake.

The view was beautiful still, nature had found the way to thrive around that rotting and reeking corpse of a lake. Ducks actually swam the waters, while sparrows, mockingbirds and turtledoves flew from tree to tree in the hills. Vultures and hawks soared the sky like kites playing with the air currents.

If the hills were a pretty picture, the ravines between them were paradisiac islands, larger trees and desert plants crowded the shores of thin streams that relieved the thirst of small animals before the water reached the toxicity of the lake. Large rocks at the sides were good enough for climbing exercises and even rappelling, if you had the ropes and systems, the sandy floors of dry streams were ideal for camping.

He had been wandering for several hours, from hill to hill, crossing glens and gorges until the sun and the dusty warm air gave him a thirst. He would have had water to drink if he had not fallen from a rock in the border of a cliff into the floor below and landed on his backpack breaking his canteen, and thankfully nothing else. Afterwards he had stayed there for some minutes facing up and wondering about his own stupidity. He did not mind losing the water back then, but now. The nearest town was a bunch of adobe houses, little more than huts, two kilometers up the lake.

He stood still, felt the dusty earth under his feet and watched the little village, tiny and brown in the horizon, it looked almost abandoned. I know it’s not though, find your way to the village and you will find your next drink. He was pleased with his thoughts and took a look around before he resumed his journey. The sun was more orange than yellow now, his shoes were covered in dust and a hawk was flying above him slowly in large circles. It is good that I find myself here today, the feeling made him smile for a few seconds until the loud braying of a donkey from the village snapped him out of his thoughts. Then he continued to walk.

the lake of crap.. Valsequillo, Puebla: 5, ene 2013.