That's right - I'm not even calling this one an adventure. It was an experience. Last week, Dianna (one of the teachers) asked if Katie and I wanted to join her, Nick, and Anna on the "traditional," 2nd annual, Labor Day hike to the hot springs. She said it was 10-11 miles, over 3 mountains, and across a creek. Well, neither Katie nor I had ever been backpacking before, but it didn't seem too bad, right? As it turns out, it was closer to 12 miles, over 3 ginormous mountains, and across 2 rivers, with a 20 pound backpack. We left Friday after school, and were racing the sun the entire way. Beautiful scenery, and I enjoyed it until I saw the sun start to set. I didn't want to get stuck out in the dark. I had a flashlight, but it gets really dark. By the time I got to the top of the last little hill, and could see the river, I was so ready to the done. I could see two trails that headed in that general direction, and I think I ended up on the longer, harder one. I was sliding down a hill, walking along a creek bed at one point - pretty much bush-whacking my way across the tundra. It took me about 6 hours, and I was at least a half an hour behind the two who were leading, and I wasn't the last one, either. I crossed the last river in shorts and my "alligator" rubber boots. It was pretty deep in places, and fast-moving. The hot springs was incredible. It wasn't super-hot, but it definitely felt good after 12 miles of hiking. There's a little survival cabin that had bunks and a little wood stove. The plywood planks didn't lend themselves to a good night's sleep, but it was better than the ground. Between the five of us, we polished off 3 pounds of dried apricots, 4 pounds of trail mix, and numerous granola bars on Saturday. It was pretty incredible.
The hike back on Sunday was pure torture. I made it almost up the first mountain before I ran out of energy. After crossing the second river, I stopped and duct-taped my heels and toes for extra protection from blisters. It didn't do any good. Anna and I walked most of the way back together. It was much more pleasant to have someone to talk to, rather than myself and the bushes. About the time we reached the halfway point, it started to rain. Hard. So, there we are, walking up a mountain, above the tree line (no shelter at all), in a torrential downpour. My jeans were already rolled up to the knees (they got wet crossing the second river and I didn't feel like rolling them back down), my rain coat was doing me absolutely no good, and I was glad my camera (I've had it less than a week) was in my pocket and not still strapped to the outside of my backpack (it has not been a good year for cameras and water). It was still torrentially downpouring when we started down the other side, but had lessened to a drizzle by the time we got to the bottom and started up the last mountain. The last couple of miles seemed to last forever. I gave up trying to walk around the mud puddles. My shoes were already sopping wet; a little bit more mud and water wasn't going to hurt them at all. Anna actually took her shoes off and walked through the puddles barefoot. I have never been so glad to see home, although peeling duct-tape off my bloody heels and toes was no fun. I'm sitting here chuckling to myself about it now, but it really didn't seem funny at the time. God got us all back safe and free from serious injury, though, which is definitely something to be thankful for.
The hike back on Sunday was pure torture. I made it almost up the first mountain before I ran out of energy. After crossing the second river, I stopped and duct-taped my heels and toes for extra protection from blisters. It didn't do any good. Anna and I walked most of the way back together. It was much more pleasant to have someone to talk to, rather than myself and the bushes. About the time we reached the halfway point, it started to rain. Hard. So, there we are, walking up a mountain, above the tree line (no shelter at all), in a torrential downpour. My jeans were already rolled up to the knees (they got wet crossing the second river and I didn't feel like rolling them back down), my rain coat was doing me absolutely no good, and I was glad my camera (I've had it less than a week) was in my pocket and not still strapped to the outside of my backpack (it has not been a good year for cameras and water). It was still torrentially downpouring when we started down the other side, but had lessened to a drizzle by the time we got to the bottom and started up the last mountain. The last couple of miles seemed to last forever. I gave up trying to walk around the mud puddles. My shoes were already sopping wet; a little bit more mud and water wasn't going to hurt them at all. Anna actually took her shoes off and walked through the puddles barefoot. I have never been so glad to see home, although peeling duct-tape off my bloody heels and toes was no fun. I'm sitting here chuckling to myself about it now, but it really didn't seem funny at the time. God got us all back safe and free from serious injury, though, which is definitely something to be thankful for.
No comments:
Post a Comment