The day after The Bush and Glove Love got swamped was our first full day of backpacking. And, incidentally, Enrique's birthday. Furthermore, it was Sweet n' Spazzy's, The Friz's and my day as Leaders Of the Day (LODs). This meant that we were caretakers of the map and of watches that were set to the wrong time so we couldn't know what time it was, and the ones to make the decisions for the group. (When do we stop, what now, etc.)
After eating some truly nightmarish oatmeal and packing up camp, we set out to Owl's Head Lookout for Compass Time. Once again, it was only about an hour's hike, BUT...
After eating some truly nightmarish oatmeal and packing up camp, we set out to Owl's Head Lookout for Compass Time. Once again, it was only about an hour's hike, BUT...
- it was intensely uphill
- we were carrying these crazy packs on our backs
- we weren't used to the hiking
So I was completely exhausted by the time we came to the intersection that told us that one way was the Lookout and the other way was to keep on going. Some of the team wanted...to keep on going until finding a spot for lunch. However, they opted to respect and go with the LODs' request that we stop for Compass Time. (Compass Time was our daily devotional time. We had an hour chunked into every day for devotionals.)
After a really short climb, we reached the lookout and had Compass Time and I managed not to fall asleep (yes, it was a struggle after the first half hour, even shivering cold on a rock jutting into the sky). After Compass Time, which made me feel amazingly better, we had some GORP and struck out again. That period wasn't so bad, aside from getting my legs ripped up by raspberry bush thorns. We stopped for lunch, and a couple things of note happened: the snakes scared one of our sherpas, and Enrique had an...emotional breakdown, and forged an emotional bond with Samwise, who went and was there for him.
But it was the after-lunch period time that was the worst. After a few hours, maybe three, I didn't think I could keep going, and there was nothing to do but...keep going. Finally we reached a point were the incline suddenly increased, and I stopped (I was in front because the slowest person has to set the pace) and looked at it. They stopped the group and Glove Love prayed for me, and we kept going. And not ten minutes on...
I fell into a foot-deep mud pit and lost my balance.
Skyscraper's comment, several weeks later: "It's never a good thing when you hear a scream and then someone else say 'I have a towel.'"
Someone grabbed my left hand and pulled me out. My hiking boots and socks and feet were, of course, completely soaking, and my legs and right arm were filthy up to my knees and elbow, and what could I do?
You guessed it. Keep walking. I was just so angry, not at the trail or at the group (who were my heroes that day) or with God or anything like that. I was just...angry. The Joker said if he'd been in my position he would have been crying and swearing and all that. I don't know whether I succeeded in not crying, but we finally made it to the campsite. Glove Love made me borrow a washcloth and I went and stood in the stream up to my ankles in cold water (still in my footwear) washing off the mud and telling myself, "I'll laugh about this someday..." (which is already true). My boots weren't dry until the day after solo.
That day my teammates were amazing, patient, supportive, etc. Most of all, though, God gave us all the strength to keep going, regardless of the obstacles. I learned so much from that experience.
After a really short climb, we reached the lookout and had Compass Time and I managed not to fall asleep (yes, it was a struggle after the first half hour, even shivering cold on a rock jutting into the sky). After Compass Time, which made me feel amazingly better, we had some GORP and struck out again. That period wasn't so bad, aside from getting my legs ripped up by raspberry bush thorns. We stopped for lunch, and a couple things of note happened: the snakes scared one of our sherpas, and Enrique had an...emotional breakdown, and forged an emotional bond with Samwise, who went and was there for him.
But it was the after-lunch period time that was the worst. After a few hours, maybe three, I didn't think I could keep going, and there was nothing to do but...keep going. Finally we reached a point were the incline suddenly increased, and I stopped (I was in front because the slowest person has to set the pace) and looked at it. They stopped the group and Glove Love prayed for me, and we kept going. And not ten minutes on...
I fell into a foot-deep mud pit and lost my balance.
Skyscraper's comment, several weeks later: "It's never a good thing when you hear a scream and then someone else say 'I have a towel.'"
Someone grabbed my left hand and pulled me out. My hiking boots and socks and feet were, of course, completely soaking, and my legs and right arm were filthy up to my knees and elbow, and what could I do?
You guessed it. Keep walking. I was just so angry, not at the trail or at the group (who were my heroes that day) or with God or anything like that. I was just...angry. The Joker said if he'd been in my position he would have been crying and swearing and all that. I don't know whether I succeeded in not crying, but we finally made it to the campsite. Glove Love made me borrow a washcloth and I went and stood in the stream up to my ankles in cold water (still in my footwear) washing off the mud and telling myself, "I'll laugh about this someday..." (which is already true). My boots weren't dry until the day after solo.
That day my teammates were amazing, patient, supportive, etc. Most of all, though, God gave us all the strength to keep going, regardless of the obstacles. I learned so much from that experience.
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