A Barren Peak pt. 1

We woke at 4:30. Downstairs there was a slew of food waiting. All placed out at the table. My mom was messing around and Brian was trying to put everything together in his mind; like trying to stuff a tent in a bag. Not literally, just with what was floating around in the air. We left and I snapped on the lights of my car in the dark and we rode to tacos and then the freeway.

I munched on chicken tacos while we drove towards the mountain. The night was cold but pleasant. There wasn’t a soul on the road at that time. I listened to my music; the droning guitars and placed myself outside of who I really was for a while. Just enjoying the air and alone. The silence. The ending of something. The mountain would be the most difficult thing I thought to myself. For a moment I was back in. I adjusted the knob on the CD player and then back. In. And the great black that surrounded us. It wasn’t murky but crisp and clean. It echoed like a day that knew it was its own. And in this day you may humbly walk through. But if you cross the night it will leave you forever and there will be nothing of substance in it anymore. The night shook at the time when the sun would creep beyond the mountains. And ever through the hike it would slowly chase us. Like we were honored guests of the dark. It was protecting us from the burning of the new day. It was a companion, and I knew it and cherished it. At the base where the mountain was sagged and in its end we parked one car.

Here Brian stopped. We had gone through a series of small canyons and were now at the end of the climb. Brian parked his car, retreated to the back, placed all his gear in the backseats and with a smile he entered the front. We drove about 30 minutes away from this spot to the beginning and disembarked. Brian drank some strong liquor to challenge the mountain. He smiled again but I turned him down. Waiting for the fear to slowly creep in my bones. My bones is rattling I would tell myself. It’s a scary fucking thing. To be at the mercy of the mountain. When you are up there, there isn’t anyone or anything and all but down is the escape. You can either sign an agreement and make the way to the end or put on the loudest thing you brought with you over your ears and dive hoping to god that he picks you up and places you in heaven before you come crashing down a mess of pine trees and then hell.

The start of the climb is an avalanche chute. It has to be like 2 miles, 3 tops and it shoots straight up the side of the range towards the face of the highest peak. It continues, as you move further and further up to get steep. I remember watching Brian’s feet to make sure I knew how to place my footing. It is a long way down through jagged cliffs and then a running stream. I didn’t want to fall.

The chute starts with a climb through gravel along the ski run in Lee Canyon. Then at the top where the chute starts is a mountain stream. At this time some of it was frozen over; the water had splashed on rocks and broken bits of shale. I wore my shemagh to cover my face and a warm cotton shirt. My legs were stiff and we had to watch our footing so we wouldn’t slip. Icicles lined some smaller cliffs and outcroppings and they were beautiful to see. Frozen and stiff like my legs. They were tough as nails. I couldn’t break them with my hands and the cold made me shiver. They were clear like diamonds. The water was so clean that the ice was solid and made me think of ice up in the artic. The running water was the only thing that cracked the silence. But it’s a stretch. Because at some point it just becomes part of it. The wind can be a loud man. And so can water. But when you are alone there is nothing and it becomes part of the stuff that makes you know there isn’t a man around.

I loved to look at the green ferns and the creeping plants that lined the sides of the stream. All along the edges was more shale and sharp stone. I asked Brian why the rock was so sharp and jagged here. Everything I touched scratched my hands and made me wince. He told me that these mountains were young. Still children out of formation and the wind hadn’t been given enough time to smooth and shape them. Instead they were hot like our blood and shoved their fingers and fists straight up in the air towards the sky. The jagged outline that ran across the sky and the bright sun that tried to tame them. In a million years maybe they will quiet. But now I cut my hands and steadily followed Brian up the chute. Climbing up the cliff faces and pounding my boots sideways in the ground to hold me from falling back and tumbling on the vertical slope.

At the top we took our long rest. We threw our packs down and there was a view of the mummy. His great head. Then bulging stomach and later as it extended perpendicular to our range, his legs that shot out and cut across. The road below twisted like a snake and there was no one. The only living soul was next to me and we were both quiet. We unpacked, ate sandwiches and drank water. The sun started to catch up with us. Gracing the top with its yellow rays and beckoning my body to sleep and wake up in the afternoon. But it was already ticking to fast and we had to pack. Listening to the beat of our hearts. We looked out and stared at the peak that was 5 miles away. I sighed but Brian pressed on and his spirit woke me up and I gathered all my stuff and stumbled down another face until we made our way to the thin mountain trail and started the second part of the climb.

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leave your perch.