Butt donut, donkeys, and chutzpah.

For my recent milestone birthday, I always imagined treating myself to red velvet cake or an obscenely decadent plate of cannoli, or generous scoops of gelato heaped on a pile of lemon bars, or a sinful slab of New York cheesecake, or even flaming bananas foster. But never a butt donut.
Yes. A butt donut.
A few weeks prior to the milestone, I was reaching over a desk to help a young student spell d-o-l-p-h-i-n when a different student scooted my chair out from under me. She was racing for a favorite marker.
When I went to sit back down, I smacked what I’m often called a pain in.

Owwwwww! The first-graders were silent; not one marker squeaked. I moved out to the hall where fortunately, no CCVC expletives flew out of my mouth (consonant-consonant-vowel-consonant) or other colorful variation.
I could’ve gone to the ER room, but it would be pointless because there’s no such thing as a butt cast, so I headed towards the butt donut store near the central Sera Post Office in Miraflores on Thouras which is pronounced like uh…well like a sore, well, y’know. But a bruised butt was an unexpected gift for my birthday right up there with this book I received from a first grader about the drugging and raping of Gisele Pelicot. I’m guessing her parents don’t read English.

The butt donut makes taking the Peruvian bus bearable, like a rattling ride at the carnival, but walking adds more local color, like on the newish Peace Bridge connecting Miraflores and Barranco.

The butt donut and book weren’t my only gifts.

The real gift is the Huayhuash, a hike that’s on my “You Only Die Once” list. Six days and five nights in some of the most breathtaking landscape in the Andes. That is, if you can breathe because air is scarce up there. One heck if the hike for those who refuse to go over the hill.

The photo below isn’t of the Huayhuash. It’s the test drive for my Glutimumus Maximus outside of Lima.

The warm up hike was in Chantay, an ancient Inca Trail in Peru with absolutely no scenery other than comically large boulders.

And a sea shell. And a view of the ocean and some old-timers’ trash.

This hike was fun, especially scoring a kilo of avocados at the end for about a buck fifty.

But the Huayhuash won’t be a bowl of avocados.

Even packing is a challenge.
Here’s the challenge: how to fit supplies in a backpack that a donkey can carry–and no, I’m not bringing an espresso machine–just instant coffee and my drawing pencils and chargers and raisins and pill case plus emergency altitude medicine and lip balm and toilet paper and refuse bags because yes, you have to bring it down.

And my butt donut. Am I allowed to bring a butt donut? Other must-haves include sunglasses strong enough to watch a solar eclipse without going blind, sun screen, a power bank (which I wrestled with knowing that children mine the minerals that make the power possible), ziplocks galore, toe nail clippers, vaseline for blister protection, and a prayer card.

I tried to cut corners with my packing, not just to save space, but to save money because the sales guy at the hiking store is pretty good at convincing you that you will die if you don’t buy the morena wool underwear and fleece vest instead of an identical one you spotted at a thrift store.

I’m worried more about the shivering nights more than the lack of air during the day, especially since my bladder will –want to see a man about a horse–or a donkey–or however that saying goes at the most inopportune times during a howling night and that’s where this thing called a sheewee comes in.Yes, a sheewee. I didn’t name it.

I’m not getting one and I was told that purchasing a funnel from a car mechanic would work just as fine if you’re frugal but I’m not crazy about that either, so I am seriously thinking about bringing the long wool dress I had made in China for a nightgown. Yes, like Laura Ingalls in The Little House on the Prairie. It sounds insane, but no more insane than daring this hike when you qualify for early boarding, but the dress is warm and when nature calls in the middle of the night? The going will be easy.

There’s one other thing I do want to bring on the Huayhuash : my mom.

I usually brought a handful of her chutzpah on my adventures sealed up tight in a little jade snuff jar. But that jar leaped out of my pocket in Patagonia at the Laguna de Los Tres, pictured below. What a place for a mom to get lost, a lot better than wandering around Kroger’s parking lot in a bathrobe and walker, don’t you think?

But I miss my mom and that little jar of her. I would grip the jar tight on airplane takeoffs and during border checks or while waiting for lab results after an invasion of stomach fungus.
I can’t find a photo of that jade snuff jar anywhere, and I’ve been searching all day, old files on phones and clouds as impossible to sort through as shoe boxes of polaroids and fading kodak prints with scalloped edges.

Luckily, I do have another keepsake from Asia that’s perfect size to hold a smidgen of my Mom’s energy. I keep a good amount of Mom with me next to Jesus and Saint Pat and a gun shell and a few other quirky keepsakes. The jade snuff jar replacement is an empty pot of coconut lip balm I got in Bangkok, shortly after I had to leave China.

So I’m ready for anything with my butt donut, a few donkeys, my Mom’s chutzpah, and tested hiking sticks.

Let’s do it!