[pct-l] (Guest Post) A Long Hard Climb

[ronm@fallingwater.com (Ron Moak)]

* Message posted to PCT-L from the National Scenic Trails Website
* by our guest Ron Moak <ronm@fallingwater.com>.
* Please use <mailto:ronm@fallingwater.com> to reply to the sender.

Just something a little different for a change.
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The Long Hard Climb!

by Fallingwater

I stood at the edge of the switch back atop the precipice and yelled, “What the hell am I doing here!”. My bellowing simply floated down the slope like a whisper in the wind. Obviously the mountains didn’t feel the need to dignify my remark with a reply.

The last I’d seen my partner, he was two switch backs above me and that was ten, or was it twenty minutes ago. Time seems to blur like the waves of heat rising off the trail. It must have ninety five degrees. A hot one for sure. And this was only the third week in May. 

Come August when the real thru-hikers pass by, this place will be blazing. A least they won’t be hauling a good thirty pounds of winter fat. 

I continue to stagger up the trail, amazed at how out of shape I’ve gotten. Six months ago, I could have bounded up this trail with smooth steady strides. Today I’m staggering like a drunk on New Year’s Eve and sucking great quantities of wind.. Over the last couple of thousand feet of assent, I’ve sucked in enough air to provide a pretty decent atmosphere to a good size asteroid. 

He’s up there somewhere, I know it. I tried my best to keep up. Using my arms to push each leg straight. Left, right, suck wind, left, right, suck wind, repeated over and over in some mind numbing state. 

Occasionally I stop to gaze out over the landscape falling below me. Desperately trying not to forget in the pain and frustration, just why was crawling up this mountain. 

Off in the distance I could see the white peaks of the Trinity Alps. From here they seemed to float in air. Suspended above earth. I pondered laying on a distant snowfield, far removed from this sun blasted ridge. My mind wandered of to a place where cool winds blow and ice water creeks flowed across green mountain meadows. 

Reality comes back hard, when I round the corner another of the endless switchbacks.  A blast of hot air direct from a blast furnace, blows me back to my senses. 

By now my lips were dry and cracking, while my throat was as dry as a sandy desert wash. With only a quart of water left, I wasn’t about to drink anymore. I’d figured out a while back that the probability of reaching our designated camp and water was somewhere between slim and none. So whatever water I carried would need to last.

A short time later, I spotted a large flat stone along the trail sitting in a nice patch of shade. Like a siren, it sang out for me to stop and rest awhile. My mind screamed, “Push it. Push it. It’s not that far now.” But my body said, “Screw it.” I collapsed in a heap. 

>From my perch, I could see a stand a trees perhaps a quarter mile away and standing on a pass. If only I could gather together whatever remaining dignity I possessed, I might just make it. 

Finally I staggered into the stand of tall trees. Relieved to see the open ground beneath with an almost infinite number of suitable campsites. My partner sat on a fallen tree quietly staring at the map. Looking, I’d assume, for some possible place to camp further up the trail. By now I’d spied the residual clumps of winter snow scattered amongst the trees. Good, water wouldn’t be a problem, and I took a long drink from my water bottle.

Looking up from the map at me, Ray said “Looks like a possible …”. 

Somehow he never quit finished the remark. Quite possibility my “Say one more word and I’ll rip off your head and use it for a soccer ball.” , stare was enough to convince him to leave well enough alone. 

Still, tired, sore and hungry, we’d made it. Tonight we’d let our wounds heal and tomorrow would be another great day in the mountains.

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