Ain’t No Mountain High Enough…Except That One
Originally posted June 9, 2007 on my livejournal…
I survived the Blue Ridge Death March.
This…
is the mountain I hiked up. I hiked from this elevation (approx. 5000 feet) to the top of this mountain (approx. 5715) over 1.3 miles. If you are not familiar with hiking allow me to enlighten you…that’s a fairly steep climb. And it was rocky. And I am a middle aged fat woman.
I was gasping out funeral instructions (I want to be cremated and my ashes scattered over William Petersen) and telling Keith how to spend the insurance money by the end. I told him to be sure to call
There were endless steps of rock and we would round another corner and there would be…more steps of rock. It looked like something out of Lothlorien. Even the experienced hikers had some trouble. The kids? Thought it was fun and wanted something steeper and rockier.
I had an interesting interior monologue going. About half way up, I wasn’t able to breathe properly. All I could do was gasp. The more I meditate, the more I do yoga, the more I deal with impermanence and attachment, the more I live, I realize everything comes back to the breath.
In 1994, I had a horrible, painful year. Keith’s mom (who lived with us) and my mom both had terminal cancer; I was primary caregiver for one and secondary caregiver for the other. A business I had started failed, my father was not speaking to me and my grandmother died suddenly (all of this, by the way, was just in the first 2/3 of the year). I was an emotional wreck and felt like I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown constantly. And I remember crying one night so lost, so upset and saying, “I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.” And Keith said, “You don’t have to get through this graciously or gracefully, you don’t have to get through this beautifully or politely, all you have to do to get through this is just keep breathing. Just keep breathing.”
That has become my mantra for all difficult situations, be it the death of a loved one or climbing a mountain. I just keep breathing and I get through. So far, so good. So very good.
Surprisingly, I not only lived, I made it to the top.
This is the view from the top…the clouds were starting to roll in at this point, but you’re supposed to be able to see hundreds of miles when it’s clear.
Hiking down? MUCH easier.
These are the kids that hiked with us.
The rhododendron were in bloom…
Despite the near death experience, it was beautiful.
We went back to camp and had dinner with the rest of the group. One of the other people at the campground had seen a black bear, so all of the kids were terribly excited at the prospect of seeing one. But we never did.
We got tucked in to the tent and the rain began and it rained all night. Breakfast Suday morning was a hit, though it was still rainy and quite nasty. We did bacon and eggs and reheated pancakes that I had made Friday night. Thank you all so much for the sugestions.
It rained until about midday, so Sunday’s hike was cancelled. It was set to rain again Sunday night so everybody decided to pack up dry Sunday afternoon instead of packing up wet Monday morning.
I took some more pictures of people and views…
Miss Vixen? Not a happy camper.
This is my favorite picture…
It’s just flowers growing out of the rock. And it was so beautiful to me.
I thought of some of the stories some of you have shared with me…I thought of
So, I camped, I hiked, I survived, I thrived. I am blessed and grateful.
And I am sore. Man, am I sore!