Cata and Jay were our trip leaders for the Patagonia hiking trip. They were tall and fit and attractive, walking advertisements for Backroads. It could have been annoying except they were kind and supportive and had the perfect words or actions for every circumstance.

On our last full day together, January 3rd, the two trip leaders and ten hikers walked the easiest route of the trip. Instead of sand or stones, we walked a metal boardwalk with occasional metal stairs and frequent viewing platforms. It wasn’t a hike, it was a stroll.

The trip planners had definitely saved the easiest day for last.

Besides our trip leaders, we also always had two local guides. This day was so easy, we had only one.

Cata, Jay and the guides usually hiked with us like dogs with sheep, making sure the leading hikers didn’t take a wrong turn, making sure the lagging hikers didn’t get too far behind, helping all negotiate the tricky parts.

On this last day, as we sauntered ever closer to the glacier (it reminded me of an old person with a skin condition, except instead of flakes it was shedding sheets of ice), we noticed Cata and Jay were missing.

I figured they were taking it easy, maybe sipping a maté somewhere. How badly could we hurt ourselves on a metal boardwalk, moving among throngs of gapers disgorged by fat tour buses?

Our group stopped for photos at one of the lookout points and took a longer pause than usual.

After a while, Judy and I started back up the stairs. We wanted to get a little distance on our younger companions who would pass us soon enough.

Judy had signed up for the trip because Richard, her husband of 54 years, had died a year earlier (one year exactly, on January 3), after a ten-year battle with pancreatic cancer.

Judy wanted to turn the page.

As Judy and I came around a bend to another overlook, we saw Cata and Jay! They hadn’t fallen behind, they’d sprinted ahead to set up a party, wearing smiles that stretched to their ears.

On a bench laid with a tablecloth that was the flag of Argentina, they had set out little waxed papers with little cakes cut into bite-sized pieces. There was a bottle of champagne and non-disposable green and purple plastic cups.

The celebration was for my birthday.

We gathered around and took cakes and held out cups for champagne. I wanted to thank everyone, so I did, and then I said,

“January third is my birthday, but it’s also another anniversary.” Judy was standing next to me and I put my arm around her.

“Judy, I hope January third can become for you not just the anniversary of an ending, but of new beginnings.”

I didn’t see it, but Judy poured a little of her champagne on the metal platform, which is something they do in Argentina to share their drink with those who are no longer on the earth.

Later, we had a feast at the hotel, and two tango dancers put on a show for us. There was more cake, and wine, and we took our glasses out to the deck, and Valentin brought us blankets so we could cuddle up on the padded teak loungers and stay warm as we watched the sun set and the moon rise.

It was the best birthday ever.

Chewing the Cud of Good

Thankful for all .