Every year I climb Mt. Diablo on or around my birthday, both for fun and to assess my physical state. The ascent measures aerobic capacity and strength. The descent, I'm not sure what it measures. It pounds my joints and compresses my spine; it hurts. So I've decided that, going forward, I'm going to do just the ascent, and get someone to drive to the top and give me ride down.

This year Maryse has graciously agreed to do this, and Tyler joins me on the hike. We meet at my house at 11AM and drive to the Regency Rd. trailhead. As Tyler and I put on our packs, Maryse starts the car to make sure she knows how. Then she turns it off.

As Tyler and I get to the top of the first little hill, 200 yards or so, my phone rings. We turn around. The car hasn't moved, and Maryse is waving at us.

We return to the car. It didn't start, and seems totally dead. I call AAA, navigate their web site, and put in a request. It says 14 min. I tell Maryse to buy a new battery if they offer. A truck (Maryse tells us later) arrives after 30 min. It has batteries but not the right kind. They call another truck, which takes about an hour. The driver of the first truck is an interesting young woman who remains with Maryse the whole time and chats. A third truck arrives (we got ourselves a convoy). The young woman installs the new battery.

Meantime, Tyler and I are back on the trail. It's in the low 60s: kinda warm when there's no wind. I'm worried about my lower back - mild sciatica recently - but it feels fine, and I feel very good in general. Tyler lets me set the pace, bless him.

There's a young man on the trail about 200' ahead of us. I speed up a bit but don't gain ground. Eventually we find him sitting by the trail about 10 min short of Murchio Gap. He's inappropriatedly dressed in sweats, and is in fact sweating. He says it's his first time on Diablo, and he's trying to lose weight. He hadn't intended to summit but changed his mind. From his accent, I assume he's Mexican, and I talk to him in Spanish, but it turns out I'm way off.

We reach Murchio Gap. Tyler and I rest but the young man presses on. We eventually catch up to him where the Bald Ridge Trail goes downhill; he's not sure this is the right way. I suggest that he hike with us the rest of the way.

After Prospector Gap we get into a 3-way conversation, starting with basic info. The guy's name is Mahmut, and he is in fact Moroccan, from a coastal city called Essaouira, which is known for its Bohemian and creative vibe. Jimi Hendrix visited there in 1969 and there's still a Cafe Jimi Hendrix. Mahmut has a favorite Jimi quote: "It's not what you own - it's what in your mind that matters". Mahmut is smart, and more importantly he has wisdom.

Mahmut spent 3 years in Morocco training as a dessert chef. He moved to the US in 2018 and worked in upscale restaurants in SF. He also works as a gymnastics instructor. He does Parkour.

Mahmut says that my gait going up steep hills is interesting: I pick up my knees a certain way, and it looks like I'm levitating up the hill with no effort. I tell him this is pretty accurate. Going up hills, I process more air, but it doesn't feel like exertion. I get more tired walking on a level sidewalk.

The conversation moves quickly to deeper and larger topics: values, goals, practices. We come to a spectacular view point.

Mahmut suggests that we take a break, lie down by the trail, and enjoy the gestalt. We do so. We spend some time comparing our mental approaches to dealing with fear, anxiety, panic, physical discomfort, exhaustion - things that arise from doing hard outdoor stuff.

We climb the last couple of uphills, going by the path rather than the road. On the radio tower just before the summit there's some writing in Russian. I point this out, and a nearby maintenance worker in a pickup truck overhears me and says it's 'Will you marry me?' in Russian.

We get to the top, and are relieved to see my car. Maryse isn't there, but she returns after 10 min. She talks to an old guy on a giant dirt bike. She meets Mahmut and they chatter in French.

There's another guy at the top, middle-eastern looking, who talks animatedly with Mahmut. We assume they're friends but that's not the case. The guy is named Georgi. He's Armenian, lives in Union City. He does stand-up comedy (in Armenian) and is also an Instagram 'content creator'.

He says his 'content' is a bit like Borat, and shows us a picture of himself dressed as a housewife. He says his recent videos got 3M and 2M views (this translates to a few $1000; I assume he has a day job too).

Georgi drove to Diablo and parked at Regency Rd., like us. On the way up he got off-trail, and ended up in an area that, like most of Mt. Diablo, was steep and covered with nasty brush. The brush kept snagging his pack, so he took it off and left it; it rolled away, down the slope.

Georgi has clearly had an ordeal. He has abrasions on his hands and arms. We tell him about our discussion of panic; he has experienced a goodly amount.

Also, his pack had major sentimental value to him. He's visited 25 national parks, done a lot of hiking, and the pack was a trusted companion. I REALLY want to go look for the pack - I have a perverse fondness for brush and steepness - but he has no clear idea of where he came from, and Diablo is huge. So we give up. He says he's going to go home and cry that night.

Neither Mahmut nor Georgi has a viable plan for descending. Mahmut took BART to Walnut Creek, then a bus to Clayton. Georgi's car is in Clayton. It's past 3; even if they managed to find their way back on trails, it would be dark. Georgi planned to take an Uber; Tyler is skeptical about the possibility of this.

Fortunately I can give them both a ride back to Walnut Creek. We're all in a giddy and celebratory mood. Georgi has the sort of loud, penetrating voice that irks me in bars, but I don't mind it in this case. We take some selfies in the car, exchange contact info, and go our various ways.

Summary: not doing the descent makes a huge difference: I'm not the least bit sore or tired that evening or the next day. But the hike itself was overshadowed by the wonderful experience of meeting Mahmut and Georgi, with their unique and vivid personalities. People like them reduce my misanthropy, albeit slightly and temporarily.