The steep winding path looms seemingly endless ahead of us. We crack a joke in good humor about the climb ahead. At this point, no real worries. A few hundred feet, another joke. This time it is cloaked in truth and weariness. We reach the halfway point--maintaining our last ounce of humor we laugh out of despair and exhaustion. Soon there is no laughing, no talking, no picture taking…just walking, climbing. LEFT. RIGHT. LEFT.
I realize that I have officially hiked too far when I no longer avoid the mule piss and crap that cover the trail--even more so, when in all my sweatiness, I realize that I smell worse than said mule piss and crap. NO. LEGS. LEFT. I look over the edge of the cliff, I silently think, “If I fall, that means I don’t have to walk the rest of the way up.” After some serious consideration, I decide I have a little more fight left in me. I march on, LEFT. RIGHT. LEFT. I see snow on the ground, but I swear I am about to die from heat exhaustion. As the last ember of my hope is extinguished, we round a bend. The end, though a couple hundred feet up, is visible. I would have cried if I weren’t so dehydrated. Filled with renewed hope, I fight through the last 30 minutes of hiking. As we reach the top, I think this could be the happiest moment of my life, but there is no smile. No energy left for smiling.
What a great hike! What a great experience! Next time, I am taking the damn mules!
