In 2102 on our 40th anniversary we rode our bikes from Brunswick to Harpers Ferry and back on the C&O Canal, so it’s not entirely crazy that this year we picked that route again, though, instead of biking, we hiked in preparation for the Camino. Every time we see Eric he asks us how far we can walk. “We did a five-mile walk at the park yesterday,” we told him on Wednesday. He rolled his eyes. “You should just go out and do fifteen,” he said. Hmm. Probably right. So that was our plan for a fun anniversary activity yesterday.

Maurice said we had to start early because it was supposed to be really hot, and we did, but by the time we actually hit the trail it was 9:30. We set off briskly past dark green foliage on the shady path. Occasional sprigs of yellow, purple and white wildflowers brightened the way. A cardinal zipped up ahead, and some drab twittery birds, and a shining goldfinch. A green heron eyed us suspiciously through the branches from his watery perch. But it wasn’t long before the heat and humidity engulfed us. We walked in the soup of summer, sweat sizzling on our arms. Sleek dragonflies the color of sapphire ore hot from the earth darted around our ankles. Cicada songs rasped in the air. To our right in the dregs of the canal, turtles posed motionless on sunlit logs, the velvet emerald scum of the pond surface still draped over their backs plush and warm. Bullfrogs croaked from the swamp’s igneous reaches. On the left the Potomac River gushed like molten silver, splashing past granite biscuits of rock baking in the summer oven. Sympathizing rivulets ran down my back; I don’t know how I felt them because all my clothing was glued to my body with sweat.

In less than two hours we crossed the bridge to Harpers Ferry. We popped into the first lunchroom we came to, where we knew the milkshakes were good, and settled into a booth in the old-fashioned and sort-of air-conditioned interior. Lunch was rejuvenating (and when I hoped for M&Ms for dessert and there weren’t any to sell, Maria put some chopped ones from her ice cream fixing supplies into a little plastic bag for me to take along).

By the time we finished putzing and made our way back across the bridge it was 1:15. Our pace slowed as we pressed on and melted into the path. The air was thick and still, viscous, like stew waiting to boil.

We plodded onward. There were no benches or even fallen trees to sit on. Two miles from the end I drank all my water. I started fantasizing about the perfection of the water fountain in the Brunswick train depot. Muscles started to ache. After two eternal hours we left the shade of the trail and crossed the steaming rail yard. The sight of the little brick building restored my energy and I almost ran inside. It was not air-conditioned, but the water–oh, the water fountain was everything I had dreamed of!

Turns out yesterday was the hottest day of the year here (though today may be hotter). The high temperature in Harpers Ferry was 94 but the heat index was about 110. Our hike was fourteen miles. We texted Eric an FYI. Maurice says it was a piece of cake. I say we must be nuts.