Nature's Survival

by J.P. Medved

  Chapter 5

  We decided to go on the North Ridge hiking route. This was the route we went on last time, the route which caused me so much agony. I knew when my father asked me if I wanted to try that route again that I had to do it. It would only be fitting that I not only conquered the mountain, but also the trail.

  We stepped out of the car and were hit with a cold wind, almost like a warning shot that we would not climb that mountain without a fight. That it would battle us from start to finish. And we were just getting started.

  We did have to fill out some forms. I never liked this part, as those pesky little forms just delay my hike. But, it went by quickly today and we, at last took to the trail.

  ….

  You know, that first mile and a half to the Half Moon Pass was gone in a blur. I was so pumped to be finally back on Holy Cross again that I just wanted to hike.

  My father usually likes us to stop for water breaks every half hour, as it was easy to get dehydrated quick in these high altitudes, but on this day, we did not.

  As I look back on that moment today, I have to say that I regret not stopping more often to get some water. But, if we had stopped it would have done much more than simply hydrate us.

  While we were hiking up the mountain, it was about the trail the summit, and ourselves. If we had taken more water breaks, we could have taken in all that the mountain had to offer us. I am positive to this day that there had to have so many animals which in our haste to make it to the summit we didn't even see!

  But, there is more to the summit than just animals. It would have been great to just sit down for ten minutes, and enjoy all of the interesting fauna that a 14er has to offer. That would have been awesome.

  See, this goes back to what I said earlier about the journey and the destination. I had heard that quote, and all of those variations my entire life before, but it wasn't until after that mountain climb that I ever sat down to actually think about the quote. This was just an example of how not to savor that journey.

  When we finally did stop for water, we were about to approach the Half Moon Pass, I finally got around to asking my Dad if he remembered to bring the ponchos.

  I said, “Dad, you remembered those ponchos, right? Just in case it rains.”

  And he responded, a worried gaze now pasted on his face, “You know what, David, I actually forgot those ponchos. In our hurry to get hiking I must have left them in the car.”

  We both new it was a grave mistake to leave those ponchos in the car, as if it started to rain, we were toast. But, it was too late to go back, we would have to get lucky, but as we have found out throughout our lives, luck was just not on our side that day.

  As we were just finishing up our water break, the first rays of sun were now shining down on the mountain. It was quite a sight. People from around the world say that they have moments in their life when they were just happy they live where they live, well I can tell you first hand that the moment when those sun rays peaked through the clouds and shined down on the mountainside, much like it had when I had taken my walk earlier this week, I can truthfully say that I knew that this was where I belonged.

  We didn't have too much time on our hands, though, so after a little bit of water and a granola bar, we were off again.

  Throughout much of the early stages of our hike, my father talked to me a lot about preserving the environment. This was, as you can guess, one of his biggest passions in life. When he saw litter, even if it is the smallest of things, it drives him crazy. I think a prime example of this is when he saw a man throw his napkin on the ground as he was walking to work one morning.

  He told me he said to the man, “What the hell are you doing, pick that napkin up!”

  And then he said the man responded, “I don't see a trash can! What's a little napkin gonna do to this world!”

  Well, I bet you can guess how that one went over. My father ended up just picking up the napkin himself, the other guy continuing on with his day as if he didn't even know he dropped the napkin.

  He talked a lot about how Wilderness areas, National Forests, and National Parks are, to him at least, sacred land.

  As he explained it to me, “We live in a huge country, David, but do you ever think to yourself just how much of the country is urbanized. Or how we, the people of the United States of America, have encroached on the ground of so many living organisms. You know a lot of people move out to areas such as where we live for the “view”, or a “change of pace”, but those are the wrong reasons to move here. My great-grandfather moved here 200 years ago to make a difference. To preserve this land, and through the generations, we, as a family, have done just that. We have fought for laws and restrictions to be made, protested against others, and shown, at least the community, that we really do care about the world in which we live. If this place isn't sacred, if this place is not the doorway to heaven, then, I don't know what is.”

  “Wow”, I remember saying, “I never knew how deep that tradition has run in our family.”

  “Well, son, now you know, and one day, it might be soon, it might be far in the future, I am going to call on you to carry on that tradition.”

  It was conversations such as these that allowed us to really bond during the beginning of the hike, to show that we can have a pretty gosh darn relationship.

  We hiked for a bit longer until, out of the blue, we got a glimpse at the summit of Holy Cross. Standing tall in the early morning sun, it was quite a sight. On top of it's vast thrown the summit sat up, seemingly touching the clouds, looking out over the vast valley below.

  It was around that time that I realized that someone else was with us, I looked behind me and saw a couple, probably in their early 50s, hiking up to the point we were at. My father, always excited to see people who share his passion, jumped at the chance to have a nice hiking conversation with the couple.

  “Good morning”, my father said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

  “Hey, how are you?”, the man said as he was approaching us, “hiking up Holy Cross?”

  “You got it. This is my son, David.”

  “Nice to meet you, David. We, too, are hiking up the mammoth. We decided to do it for my wife's 50th birthday.”

  “Happy Birthday”, my father said, “there is no better way to celebrate a birthday than with a trip up a Colorado 14er.”

  “You go that right,” the women said piping in, “this truly has been as special morning, and I can't wait to see what is to come.”

  It was around that time the man reached into his bag to get a granola bar. He and my father talked for a little while longer, discussing how tough it was to hike a 14er, sharing life stories about climbing mountains, before I had to nudge myself in to tell them we must get going.

  “My son is right, we have to keep moving, you have a nice hike.” my father said.

  “Have a good one.” the two responded in unison. But, just as they were saying that the man threw his granola bar wrapper on the ground, and right then and there, my father turned around.

  He screamed, “What did you just do? Pick that up!”

  And the man responded, “Calm down! Don’t worry about it! Look sir, you need to get a grip.”

  I knew that as soon as the man did not immediately apologize for throwing the wrapper on the ground it was going to be a long wait until we could go again. My father stood there lecturing the man about the family history, what that granola bar can do to the environment, and so forth for what seemed like an eternity.

  This is the thing about my father, he can get so wrapped up in such little occurrences. On one of the few times we went to Denver, we went out to a pretty nice restaurant. Well, when my father did not think the food was coming out fast enough, he got himself into a shouting match with the waiter. All I could do is bury my head in my hands, and pray that he would gain control of himself fast. Because, when my father sees something unsatisfactory to him, he will let you know about it.

  In any case,
a little while later my father finished his rant, and we were finally hiking towards our final destination. Well, I wouldn't call it hiking, more like stomping, as my father could barely control his emotions as we continued on.

  The hike was never the same after that. I partly blame the guy who threw the wrapper on the ground, but I am not going to pretend like my father is some God or anything. He does have his faults too. He needs to learn to control himself better and not get bent out of shape when things don't go exactly the way he wants them to go. In any case, at the time I thought, at least we were moving.

  We were somewhere on the Notch Mountain, the northwest shoulder to be exact (in order to get to the summit of Holy Cross you must climb here first), when disaster struck, again.

  My father's show somehow came done and as he took a big step, it came flying off his feet and down below into the unknown. At that moment, a heavy wave of depressed thoughts entered my head. Here we were, trying, once again, to climb this darn mountain, and something derailed us, once again.

  I asked my father, “You want to just turn back?”

  And he, as passionately as I have ever heard him say anything said to me, “No!”

  One word. He only said one word, but that word had so much power. As he said it, you could see it in his eyes. There was a passion there that I had never seen before. A willingness to do whatever it takes to take down the mountain. With or without the shoe we would go on, and it offended that I even asked the question. For the first time in a long time, my father was turning his anger into determination. And for that, I was proud of him.

  We hiked a little further, my father seemingly running as he was in his groove, until we got to East Cross Creek. The sun now hanging high over our heads, and my father decided that this was the perfect time to settle down, eat something, and enjoy the rushing water at the creek.

  The first words out of my father's mouth were, “David, there is something you must know about me. When I have a deep desire to get something accomplished, trust me when I tell you, I will do it. I could tell by your facial expressions that you were, at first a little hurt that I said it, but then you understood. Look, shoe or no shoe, we are going to complete this hike. And when we reach that summit,” my father said pointing in the general direction of the summit, “we are going to pump our fists and scream like there's no tomorrow. And nothing will stop us from having that moment. Nothing.”

  I sat there for a few minutes, letting those words sink in, taking just little nibbles at my sandwich. After a little bit my father said to me, “Come on, we must go on”.

  And with that we were off, the summit getting closer and closer with every step.