LJ idol: week 8 traveling travesty
“I think we’re lost.” She said, worry straining her voice.
“Are you telling me that you think we’re lost on a mountain?” I asked, feeling panic rise in my stomach.
Our group had been climbing the mountain all afternoon, although it had seemed like eternity. We were hot, tired, and hungry. I was 15 years old, and I was on one of the annual challenge trips I took every summer. I was involved with a group called Chat and Party, which is a group of blind children in middle and high school who do activities together and have meetings.
Of course, I have since graduated from the group, but I still look back on the trips we took with amazement and wonder. How did we kayak across the San Francisco Bay? Where did I find the strength to participate in a 280 mile bike ride at age 13? And, of course, how did we ever climb that mountain?
We were in Washington State that year. It was beautiful. The idea I held that it was always raining in Washington (which I probably got from Twilight) was proving to be false. Our group had already been white water rafting and rock climbing, but hiking up this mountain proved to be the most challenging.
I don’t remember how many miles it was; nor do I remember how long we actually climbed the mountain. All I know is that it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. Picture it: 15 or so blind teenagers ranging in age from 11 to 18 climbing up a steep, curvy mountain. I’m sure you never want to experience that for yourself.
The summer heat rained upon us without end as we climbed higher and higher. I followed the group, chatting with different people as we ascended the mountain. At first, it was tricky, but fun to carefully place my feet one in front of the other. I had a stick to help me keep balance, and to this moment, I cannot remember if I had my cane with me. I was never really fond of my cane as a teenager.
Eventually, I grew tired. This is when we hit the switchbacks. For those of you who have been fortunate enough to avoid hiking in your lifetime, a switchback is a stretch of the path that turns directly into the next part of the path in the opposite direction. They are tricky to navigate. At this point, we broke into little groups. I was with three other girls, and we followed one of the group adult leaders for a while. We plodded along talking about nothing and everything until we reached the snow.
“What? Snow in the middle of July? No!”
At least that’s what I thought when we heard that there was snow ahead. It turned out that we had to climb over the snow in order to cross the paths. I froze when I heard this doomful sentence. We had to do what?
I stood at the edge of a snow bank, but it wasn’t a friendly snow bank for playing in; no, it was dirty and slippery. My friends and I had to crawl over the mass of snow on our hands and knees, with the edge of the mountain only a hand’s reach away. I was absolutely terrified!
The snow wasn’t the worst of it though. The worst part was…
“I think we’re lost.”
I couldn’t believe it. We had fallen behind on a switchback. My friend, who has more vision than I do, couldn’t see the group anymore. We stopped, and the two with the most vision tried to look for everyone else, but it was for nothing. We couldn’t find them.
“Ok, let’s retrace our steps.” Said one of the others.
“But how are we ever going to find our way with all the switchbacks?” I asked.
We retraced our steps anyway, and I tried not to panic. I forced away memories of books I had read about kids becoming trapped in the wilderness. That would *not* happen to me.
Looking back on it, we were probably only lost for about a half an hour, but it felt like forever to a 15-year-old with an over active imagination. The youngest member of our little group was actually the one to find our way back to the others.
When we made it to the top of the mountain, I almost felt like it was worth it. We threw rocks off the edge and shouted things. I think I sang high notes at the top of my lungs, and I distinctly remember taking out my cell phone to see if it worked up on the mountain. It did not.
I’m glad I climbed the mountain. It was probably one of the most challenging things I have ever done, but it is also unforgettable. Would I ever do it again though? Probably not.
* * *
This is my entry for week 8 of lj idol. Thanks for reading, and as always, thanks for the support!
“Are you telling me that you think we’re lost on a mountain?” I asked, feeling panic rise in my stomach.
Our group had been climbing the mountain all afternoon, although it had seemed like eternity. We were hot, tired, and hungry. I was 15 years old, and I was on one of the annual challenge trips I took every summer. I was involved with a group called Chat and Party, which is a group of blind children in middle and high school who do activities together and have meetings.
Of course, I have since graduated from the group, but I still look back on the trips we took with amazement and wonder. How did we kayak across the San Francisco Bay? Where did I find the strength to participate in a 280 mile bike ride at age 13? And, of course, how did we ever climb that mountain?
We were in Washington State that year. It was beautiful. The idea I held that it was always raining in Washington (which I probably got from Twilight) was proving to be false. Our group had already been white water rafting and rock climbing, but hiking up this mountain proved to be the most challenging.
I don’t remember how many miles it was; nor do I remember how long we actually climbed the mountain. All I know is that it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. Picture it: 15 or so blind teenagers ranging in age from 11 to 18 climbing up a steep, curvy mountain. I’m sure you never want to experience that for yourself.
The summer heat rained upon us without end as we climbed higher and higher. I followed the group, chatting with different people as we ascended the mountain. At first, it was tricky, but fun to carefully place my feet one in front of the other. I had a stick to help me keep balance, and to this moment, I cannot remember if I had my cane with me. I was never really fond of my cane as a teenager.
Eventually, I grew tired. This is when we hit the switchbacks. For those of you who have been fortunate enough to avoid hiking in your lifetime, a switchback is a stretch of the path that turns directly into the next part of the path in the opposite direction. They are tricky to navigate. At this point, we broke into little groups. I was with three other girls, and we followed one of the group adult leaders for a while. We plodded along talking about nothing and everything until we reached the snow.
“What? Snow in the middle of July? No!”
At least that’s what I thought when we heard that there was snow ahead. It turned out that we had to climb over the snow in order to cross the paths. I froze when I heard this doomful sentence. We had to do what?
I stood at the edge of a snow bank, but it wasn’t a friendly snow bank for playing in; no, it was dirty and slippery. My friends and I had to crawl over the mass of snow on our hands and knees, with the edge of the mountain only a hand’s reach away. I was absolutely terrified!
The snow wasn’t the worst of it though. The worst part was…
“I think we’re lost.”
I couldn’t believe it. We had fallen behind on a switchback. My friend, who has more vision than I do, couldn’t see the group anymore. We stopped, and the two with the most vision tried to look for everyone else, but it was for nothing. We couldn’t find them.
“Ok, let’s retrace our steps.” Said one of the others.
“But how are we ever going to find our way with all the switchbacks?” I asked.
We retraced our steps anyway, and I tried not to panic. I forced away memories of books I had read about kids becoming trapped in the wilderness. That would *not* happen to me.
Looking back on it, we were probably only lost for about a half an hour, but it felt like forever to a 15-year-old with an over active imagination. The youngest member of our little group was actually the one to find our way back to the others.
When we made it to the top of the mountain, I almost felt like it was worth it. We threw rocks off the edge and shouted things. I think I sang high notes at the top of my lungs, and I distinctly remember taking out my cell phone to see if it worked up on the mountain. It did not.
I’m glad I climbed the mountain. It was probably one of the most challenging things I have ever done, but it is also unforgettable. Would I ever do it again though? Probably not.
* * *
This is my entry for week 8 of lj idol. Thanks for reading, and as always, thanks for the support!