We just lay there a few moments, too weary and cold to move. Slowly I became aware of my surroundings, the scratchy rock beneath my back, the tuft of wild grass at my feet. We were perhaps three-fourths the way to the summit.
I looked down from where we had climbed and noticed how much closer everything looked than it actually was. The trees below us hardly seemed any great distance away, but we had just expended nearly all our strength to make it from there to here.
As we gazed around, unexpectedly we saw it. Running off the ledge was a rough path. I sat up. I was having a hard time thinking clearly, and suddenly I wasn’t sure what to do. Should we take it? Would it evaporate as our previous trails had done?
In our muddled state, we did the best thing we knew to do. We stood and prayed. I simply asked God, should we take this trail? I felt a warm presence at my back, gently nudging me forward, and I knew that God had answered my prayer. I told Laura, and she said she had gotten the same answer.
Within a quarter mile of walking we spotted a small stack of rocks, balanced one on top of another. A quarter of a mile farther we saw another such formation. These were markers from some other hikers. Someone had been here. It was a real trail.
Then we saw the thing that will always make me marvel. It was a three-foot wooden post that was the only official marker on the main trail. The small trail we had found had brought us to that very spot. We had found the main trail at last!
The descent is a blur in my mind. I remember we veered off the trail a couple of times, but found our way back. After we were below the timberline we entered a mist of clouds, but the temperature was warmer. When we heard the river for the first time, I made a joke about it just being the wind in the trees. We finally saw the bridge, and then Laura’s car. We were safe.
Before leaving we took time to write in the hikers’ log the time that we returned, and added, “Trail hard to find on the way down” next to it. In the car was a delicious gallon of water and energy bars. We blasted the heater the entire 45 minutes to my house, arriving at 6:00 am.
That experience changed my life in many ways. Soon after that I moved to Portland and went back to school to get my master’s degree. I became much more active physically. My faith in God grew stronger. I pushed myself to try harder at everything.
I feel that my mountain experience taught me how to live deeper and fuller. Through it I had been forced to exceed my expectations, and my eyes were opened to vast more possibilities. I would never want to go through that night again, but I will forever say that my experience on the mountain blessed my life.
I would say that the main "aha" moment for me during all of this was just the faith building. I can distinctly remember having several conversations on the camping trip leading up to this hike. They revolved around what we would or can do when there is no "Plan B". What do we do when all other options are gone, or we have no options, do we really trust God with our everything as much as we say that we do? We so routinely plan ahead to make sure that we have that safety blanket, what happens when it is snatched away?
ReplyDeleteThat night on the mountain, we had no "Plan B". No alternative rescue plan, no security blanket. We had nothing. We had to fully rely on God.
I have had many opportunities since then to be in that same position of having no plan B, and just having to completely rely on God to help me out. I routinely think back to those cold, exhausting, terrifying times up on the mountain. God didn't let me down then, He most certainly won't let me down on these other times either.