Climb the Mountain

She wasn't built for the trail, but somehow belonged there more than anyone else. In many respects, she had been pushing through the wilderness long before I ever considered taking the trip. I have always been one acquainted with the night, but never more than acquainted. She was like a moth flapping wildly through tarry darkness, hearkening to any shard of light that broke the night. On this night, it happened to be mine.

"Can I borrow your flashlight?" she asked me.

"My flashlight?" I stood from where I was opening my backpack. "Did you not bring one?"

"I have one, but it's not as good as yours. And I've only got one extra set of batteries."

I tried not to be as harsh as our wilderness environment demanded. "I need to help finish setting up the tarp and then I cook dinner. While I'm cooking, I'll let you use it."

"What do I do until then?" she lamented.

"Learning to see in the dark might be a good idea," I said, discovering my headlamp in the top flap.

"Oh gee, thanks for your concern," she spat, "maybe I'll get some nicer person to give me their light."

"Don't take it personally, Erin." I turned on my light and angled the halogen ray to the dusty soil at our feet. "If you let your eyes adjust and use light coming from everyone else, you'll be able to see alright."

She left me, presumably to solicit light from the other members of our 13-person group. I didn't wait for her to disappear before continuing my assigned task. The tarp went up with speed and accuracy. Our guides praised us for doing so well on the first night. Symphonic belly growls hastened me to prepare dinner for everyone, my own stomach adding to the tune. I expected Erin to come for my headlamp but it never happened. Our blind moth had found a comfortable patch of darkness, and made her nest for the night.

* * *

We broke camp, and we hiked. We set up camp, and we slept. Break camp, hike, set up camp, and sleep. Break, hike, set, and sleep. The cycle repeated itself four times before we arrived at base camp. I had already changed my batteries twice in the process; the halogens ate them like darkness eats a soul. It was a joyful occasion when we set up camp on the fourth night. Our guides informed us we'd be staying for at least three nights, heralding new adventures ahead. We enjoyed a campfire that night, and a needed reprieve from strenuous hiking. Inevitably, the conversation shifted to individual backgrounds.

"I'm from Florida," I said, whittling the edge of a stick, "Orlando."

Across from me, Jason, from Winston-Salem, chuckled. "You mean Disney?"

"Well," I laughed, "yeah, they do exist, but I try to have life outside of that."

One of our guides asked me the first half of 'the question' through the noise of a crackling fire. "Why did you decide to come on Outward Bound in North Carolina?"

I peeled an errant shard from the steadily sharpening point of my stick. "I'll be starting college up here soon. It's a good opportunity to get used to the weather – the atmosphere."

Jason smiled. "Carolina's got a lot of backcountry, but it isn't this wild all the time."

"I'd hope not," I laughed, "life without showers stinks."

The group groaned at my terrible pun. The same guide added the other half of the question. "What do you intend to get out of your journey?"

I smiled cryptically, twirling the stake between two fingers. "I suppose a little peace of mind. Perhaps shake off some old skills I learned a while ago." I did not want to tell the group the true nature of my past for fear it might be an alienating factor, or worse, force me into becoming the unofficial leader of the group. My true goal had been to learn to follow, for I had led a great many times. The truth might have come out, if not for the timely entrance of Erin.

"Erin!" I exclaimed, diverting the attention from me, "Nice to see you joined us!"

She nodded, and flashed a brief, tight smile. "Thanks."

Erin sat at the furthest edge of the circle. As she came into the firelight, I noticed for the first time that she was wearing a knee brace. It's hard to miss knee braces because most are terribly ungainly, if not downright painful to the eye. The brace Erin wore had both characteristics, its hinge a dark shadow against her otherwise pale skin. Firelight accented its unforgiving angles and made them dance in whimsical patterns. It was the first time any of us had seen it, our curiosity quickly turning to concern.

A female voice spoke from the now oblong circle. "Where'd you get the knee brace?"

"My backpack." She responded in such a way that made my ears cup forward – metaphorically speaking of course.

"What happened?" I asked, shaving a final shard from the stick. I tried to work my tone of voice carefully so that it neither seemed patronizing, nor indifferent. Based on her reaction, I'd failed.

"If you must know, I got into a car accident a month ago and tore several ligaments in my knee."

My concern turned to surprise, along with everyone else in the group. "Tore several ligaments?"

"Yeah, but they are better so—"

"Forgive me, Erin, but torn ligaments are no joke. They take much more time than a month to heal."

"Well, I had scheduled the trip beforehand and I wasn't going to back out when it costs so much. I should be able to make it."

The first day we were there we walked straight up a 45-degree incline with forty to fifty pound backpacks. To this day, I still do not know how she managed this long. "What makes you think it's going to get any easier?"

She became curt. "It's my knee and I don't need you to tell me what to do with it."

"But this is our trip," I said, directing the sharpened end of my stick toward her, "we have to be concerned for each other because it all depends on us out here. I just want to be sure we can depend on you."

My two points hovered in the air as surprise turned to frustration. There had already been times when we had been forced to go off the trail and bushwhack our way through true wilderness. Her knee was a liability, a weakness that could put a damper on the entire group and force us to perform a dreaded extraction. Whether the group agreed with my blunt opinion or not, the fear of having to carry someone out of this place rattled our senses. It might put all our lives in danger with the kind of wilderness we were going through.

Before the silence lingered too long, one of the guides diffused the situation. "Concern is good, but we have to respect Erin's decision to continue on. When she's had enough, she'll let us know."

We dropped the subject out of politeness. Neither Erin, nor I, had much more to say on the issue. I'm sure both of us were left with lingering doubts that nibbled our minds through the night.

* * *

The group learned rock climbing for the next three days. I first experienced it while traveling through the Rocky Mountains five years past. Excitement and adrenaline pushed me through the process with vigor as we wriggled our way through the climbs. The learning was not without its sense of tension. Everything was leading up to the third and final day of climbing where we would face a challenge reserved for only the most stalwart of groups: Table Rock.

The Table Rock climb is 450 feet of multiple pitch composite rock, cleanly thrust toward the heavens like a titan's accusing finger. From a distance, the tan surface looks over the countryside with authority and stature. Pressed against it bodily, the flecked rock challenges perception as you search for the right foothold. We knew it would be dangerous. We knew it would be difficult. But we were determined to meet the challenge – at least, most of us were.

Erin was not the only one who struggled during the learning process. Rock climbing required more athleticism than some had to give. Heart was another matter. Most pressed on and eventually succeeded where Erin tended to give up. The guides tried to convince her not to attempt the climb unless she was certain, but Erin doggedly pursued the chance, not to be left out. I was halfway up the 'intermediate' side of the rock when I heard her scream.

"Oh God, I'm falling! AAAAGH!"

I nearly slipped off the rock as the shards of my shattered concentration came to rest around me. The voice of Erin's belayer echoed faintly to my ears. "You have to keep climbing, Erin!"

"No!" shouted the harried response, "Pull me up!"

"We can't!"

"Pull me up! I can't climb!"

"You have to try!"

"No! I can't! I can't—" She was hysterical, and the haunting sound of helpless sobs added to the agony. Erin was climbing the 'beginner' part of Table Rock, separated from my 'intermediate' by the area designated 'expert'. From the sound of her voice she was more or less even with me, give or take a few feet up or down. At least fifteen feet separated us, including a trochanter of rock that shielded her from vision. The screaming continued.

"Erin, listen to me!" called her belayer, "Put your hands and feet on the rock and get a hold."

"I can't climb, pull me up!!"

"Erin, you have to—"

"No! No! No! I can't! Do you understand? I can't!"

"Erin, we can't hold you here forever, you have to keep coming. It's only another ten feet, you can make it!"

Erin didn't respond. Her sobbing intensified, becoming the ragged gasps of hyperventilation. The belayer tried to calm her, but Erin was gripped by panic in such a way I had never imagined. In a moment, I decided to do something stupid.

"Four feet right!" I shouted up to my belayer.

The two belayers shifted four feet to the right before calling down at me. "Climb on!"

I moved four feet to the right and shouted up again. "Four feet right!"

My belayers paused a moment, moved, then shouted down at me. "Climb on!"

I pressed myself next to the trochanter, assessing it as best I could. Then I called upward again. "Four feet right!"

The first belayer called back. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Erin needs help!" I shouted, getting a handhold on the rocky separation.

"You are crossing into expert climbing," came my warning, "you need to get back on course. Erin has to do this on her own."

"She's dangling on a 450 foot mountain, and calling for help. You just want me to ignore that?" I could vaguely hear Erin scrabbling on the other side of the separation for a hold. Suddenly there was a great scraping sound and a comparably loud crash.

"AAAAAUGH!" The scream had changed from panic to pain. "My knee! My knee! Oh God, my knee!"
Above, there were audible grunts as the climbing rope slapped the rock face with the added weight. I could hear the tones of her belayers trying to figure out what they were going to do. Though the words were unintelligible, I could hear the mild panic creeping into their voices. Just what we needed.

I tried to call to Erin from around the rock. "Erin! I'm on the other side of this separation. Talk to me, what happened?"

She seemed momentarily relieved to hear a nearby voice, though the relief became shameless fear. "I can't move my knee! Oh, God, I'm gonna die – I'm gonna die – I'm gonna die—"

"You're not gonna die!" I said with a growl, trying to banish all semblance of fear from my voice. I shouted upward to my belayers. "Four feet right!"

"Four feet is going to put you right in the middle of that separation and it is almost sheer! It is very hard to maneuver!"

"Her knee just went out!" I shouted, beginning to get angry, "Now move me the hell over." Whether by choice or my force, they moved, and I crossed into a section I had no business being in. The handholds became no larger than cracks, many doubling as footholds. God knew I didn't have a clue of what I was doing and wasted no time in proving it. About a foot into the expert area, I slipped.

I had never slipped before, and it was an experience I did not want to repeat. The fall was maybe a total of six inches, but it slammed the situational reality into me like – well, kind of like the rock slammed against my face. I clutched the partition, heart and body working way outside normal parameters, and continued on. The fright that had gripped Erin grabbed hold of me in the same way, and I struggled to catch a breath. For a brief moment, I couldn't hear her sobs.

"Erin!" I shouted, trying to regain control of my faculties, "Erin, I'm right here. I'm coming."

"Hurry!" she pleaded.

I tried to hurry, but my body wasn't agreeing with me. The crack I had managed to wedge my fingers into was sharp, and I was certain I was hanging by the bones. What the hell was I doing over here? I inched further on, holding on to the point where my muscles trembled.

"That's it!" My belayers called down at me. "We don't have enough room to safely belay you any further."

I frowned, the only muscles not being strained at the moment. "Erin, I can't make it any closer. The belayers can't get me over this section of rock."

"Oh God, Oh God, I'm gonna die."

"You're not going to die!" I yelled at her, half taken by the adrenaline. "Get a grip and grab hold of the rock."

She seemed stunned by my close outburst. "I'll fall again, I know I will."

My arms were quivering with exertion. "Then we'll fall together." I said.

Erin seemed to quiet herself, and I could hear the sounds of scuffling on the other side of the wall. She may have given up in the past but this time she had other plans. This second wind seemed to be the charm.

"Work you fucking knee! Work!"

As I clung to the rock, I heard her curse and cry her way up the angled slope and it was a hell of a thing. Stranded atop the rock, she found the will to overcome her physical injury to get over the top. I took the opportunity to get back where I belonged – on the intermediate course. The details of our respective climbs were unremarkable save Erin's occasional flurry of explicative at the rock. She made me wonder what corrosive corner of her soul she found such words.

* * *

Mother Nature was not happy that night. Imagination led me to mistake the storm for a very large child throwing a temper tantrum. The rain came in neither sheets nor blankets. Entire beds flew from the sky at us at impossible speeds. It was an invisible rain, dark and ominous like the insides of a stormy soul. Brilliant arcs of lightning accented nature's fury only to give way to resounding thunder that echoed back and forth through the mountain valley like an unseen beast. We barely managed to get tarps up before the tempest forced us to dig in for the night. In the midst of the mist, Erin and I huddled under an offensive blue tarp. It smelled like the ages, and I wished I could hear some of the sordid tales that it had seen through the years.
Since we were close to base camp, we were able to get Erin to the staff doctor without too much trouble. Fortunately, her knee hadn't actually given out. The doctor said it would have been impossible for her to move had it really gone. Our visit also yielded a new development. Given the option of staying off the trail or going on, Erin decided to go home.

This would be her last night.

"I never got a chance to thank you," she murmured to me over the patter of rain, "back there, on the rock."

"I did what I had to do," I said, throwing a dry stick into the frenzy of water pellets.

She looked down at her hands, eyes blinking as if trying to hold back the truth that was destined to come out. "I haven't been that scared since my parents died."

Her response was so quick, so pithy, that the impact of her words didn't resonate until I opened my mouth. "Died? What?" My stomach got that queasy sensation like I'd been snacking on day old sardines and warm beer.

"Yeah," She stopped, her voice breaking into a soft whimper. "I'm sorry, it's just that – dammit."

"Hey, it's okay," I said, "you don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I'm sorry I brought it up."
"It's just that, I never really got a chance to say goodbye, you know?" She began to sob. These weren't your normal, run-of-the-mill sobs. It was like she had the power to make her voice solid, reach deep into my chest, and grasp hold of my heart. I won't forget those sobs as long as I live, because it was the haunting sound of someone dealing with something heavier than any backpack.

"That morning," she cried, "my dad came in to the store where I was working." She paused long enough to snuffle and wipe her face. "He bought me a pack of cigarettes. He hated that I smoked but he bought them anyway, and he told me he loved me. I never heard him say he loved me before – God, I was always in so much trouble!" Erin interspersed sniffles between her sobs, drowning out the rain.

"I wanted to tell him I didn't mean to get arrested that summer. I wanted to tell him that I tried to quit hanging out with the wrong people, but I never got a chance to – he walked out of that door," she paused world's most dramatic pause, "and out of my life forever!"

Her head bowed, wet and dirty hands cupping to receive her forehead. In the forest, you can get away with such strong emotion. In my normal world this kind of thing would be seen as an act of weakness in the face of irresponsible grieving: Her, crying the tears of a child orphaned before its time. Me, leaking tears of forced empathy.

"They were supposed to fly to Rome together," she sobbed, taking another scoop out of my heart, "my mom was so excited. I'd never seen her happy like she was then! And she even told me to be good, and I'd made a face at her and acted like such a little brat! Like a little brat! I was such a brat to her!"

I wanted to say something, but the moment demanded that I let her continue. There was no need to force back that which she finally found the courage to face.

She sat upright and swung her arm around, nearly hitting me before letting it flop back into her lap. "All I wanted was to get away from home – get away from all of that. I thought this thing would help me. I thought coming out here would help me! I didn't mean to ruin your trip. I didn't want to ruin anybody's trip—"

"No," I said, grunting the hoarseness from my voice, "you haven't ruined anything. I mean, we had no idea."

"How could you know?" She sighed, leaving streaks of brown from her fingers as she wiped her face. "How could anyone know what I've been through? Your parents didn't die—"

I almost forgot that my heart was in her hands until she gave it another squeeze.

"And now I have to go back there – back to being alone – to being hurt – helpless—"

"Erin, you are not helpless." I almost growled. Man, I hate crying. "You may be lots of things, but you are not helpless."

She sniffed and looked up at me. I took that as my cue to continue.

"Look at what you've done. You've come this far up the trail, even managed to climb a rock face while injured. A helpless person may have climbed on that rock, but whoever that was that made it to the top was not helpless. That was a strong person, a person who has a lot of heart and soul. She made it up that mountain when the odds were stacked so heavily against her it wasn't funny." I was making a speech again. It's amazing what emotion will do to your sensibilities – must be why I dislike it so much. I found myself sighing.

"Look at it this way, you're at the end of one trail and the beginning of another. Yeah, it's going to be tough, but you gotta keep going when the climb gets hard. You've got the strength to climb home somewhere in you, find it – please."

Did I mention that I hate getting emotional?

She suddenly grasped me up in such a hug that I thought she was going to crush my ribcage. "Thank you, thank you!" Her tears had changed from despair to joy all in a matter of seconds. What a relief. I thought she was gonna kill herself right then and there. I was even more thankful that she had finished dissecting my heart with her sorrow.

"Thank you," I remember saying. And of all the things I said to her, I think I meant this one the most.

Erin became quiet, exhausted from her emotional outpouring. I remember sitting up most of that night, thinking through the encounter and Erin. That girl took me into her soul that night, sharing the frightful events that left her flagging in her own personal storm. It left me reeling, realizing there were too many damn things I took for granted in this world; family, friends, a future. The throbbing need called for me to step back and show how much I loved them, even if it didn't seem like an easy thing. A whole lot of deadly things existed outside of that tarp, bolts of misfortune that could strike at any moment. I looked at the sleeping girl curled up next to me and sighed. Amidst all the thunder and lightning, the dark rain fell on.