Each trip starts as a great mystery. As a guide there are too many levels to comprehend at once. A Sherlock Holmes game of questions to ascertain distant facts and cold memories ensues. A phone call. A confident voice at the other end, humor and bravado to hide the innate fear of the unknown.
It seems no matter who they are they take a pounding. The playing field levels quickly at 12,000 feet. Triathletes and marathon runners, cross-fit fanatics and even excited 12 year-olds with boundless energy feel the slow pound behind the temples. Nausea sets in, knees seem to quadruple in age on the return.
Then there is the weather factor which no one really seems to respect in the Rockies-and many learn the hard way as pounding rain and electricity explode in minutes from blue sky. Many hike past in Levis and a cotton hoodie, shorts... Too casual. They start strong. Then in gasps it slowly leaks out as the miles and hypoxic reality exacts its penance. Stapled stomachs from recent gastric surgeries are talked about, surgical scars on battered knees become visible, drug addictions and recent rehabs. Tender feet in the supposed broken in boots begin blossoming with ripe blisters. But the shocking thing is not the late admittance to being human. It is the ability that these people have to carry on, despite the odds. As a guide perhaps the best part of job is witnessing individuals beat incredible odds and send rock routes, reach summits... Every work day I am witness to minor miracles of the human spirit. The power of wilderness to engage the ability to go beyond perceived possibility is magical...
No comments:
Post a Comment