Day 6, the climb down with Dave

February 22, 2010

…we were finished. Mountain climbed. Summit reached. Goal accomplished. The Heavens seen, and nearly touched. I had bonded with my brothers, and exhausted my endurance. My body smiled with relief, ever-grateful that there were no more inclines, no more hurdles, no more “more”. The day seemed to just be dawning, and I could look down on the face of the earth, and stare in awe.

The only thing left was the climb down. Surely it would be a breeze, filled with laughter, speed and joy, and no more pain.

It didn’t exactly go that way.

The mountain stared me in the eye, and invited me down it’s narrow face. James and Kelly swiftly moved ahead, at almost double the speed of Dave and me. Though my body had much relief to be finally on a decline, I still was recovering from the gruelling climb up, and moreso from the emotional rollercoaster that had befalled me on this last day.

I took my time, enjoying the view, snapping pictures, and reveling in the glow of the sun. Dave and I stopped every 100 yards or so to soak in the scene. As we headed down toward the crest of Stella Point, the decline became steep. The terrain was snow and mud, yet the warm sun gave us a sense of security that belied reality.

We “skiied” down the mountain, skating and sliding down from side to side in the deep powder. Other climbers watched us in wonder, perhaps questioning our sanity. As the snow faded, we reached the mud, and continued the same skating motion. We fell frequently, but it was always a soft landing, so we forged ahead. We could no longer see James and Kelly, though we knew they were eager to get to the tent for some shut eye, and we gave their absense no thought. Emmanuel stayed with us though, careful to make sure we did not progress too quickly.

On the trek down, Dave and I connected in a way that I never would have guessed we would. We started talking about exercise and nutrition, and I learned that he used to be a trainer, and had many great tips about healthy living.

Dave was an Army Reserve veteran, and even more amazingly, a cancer survivor. His battle with cancer had challenged him in ways that I could not understand, though the inner strength he had shown all week suddenly made sense.

Dave was adopted as a young boy, and was raised by two loving and compassionate parents. Sadly, he lost both his parents prematurely over the last 15 years. He was Colombian by descent, and after his adoptive parents passed away, he had searched for and found his birth mother, and reconnected with her and his entire extended family. He seemed to have a good relationship now with her, and she was able to explain the circumstances of her choice to put him up for adoption. The layers of this man kept peeling away, and “strength through trial” seemed to be the theme at each level. I’m sure his family knew far more than I of this fortitude that was ever present within this new friend of mine.

Dave loved the Lord, and appreciated all that God had given him, despite the deep pain that he had endured in his short 44 years. He also loved his wife. He often spoke of her as “very beautiful”, always over-emphasizing the “very” part. He seemed to love her more than he could often explain. I could only imagine the trials that they had endured together over the last 16 years.

His children meant the world to him as well. When he spoke of them, his face lit up with a joy that only a parent would understand. Each of his children seemed to excite him in a different way, and he relished talking about them and showing off their pictures.

As we discussed food and health, we transitioned into talking about our food vices, and we both began to laugh more and more. Dave loved Snickers, and his daughter Lauren would often buy one for him on special occasions. I couldn’t help but smile when he told me that story.

I told Dave about my weakness for Double-Stuf Oreos, and popcorn at the movies. We laughed at how many more food vices we had than we thought (well, it was really me who had the endless vices, I think for Dave it was just his beloved Snickers).

Dave and I grew up in completely different worlds, politically, socially, and historically, and we really had no business connecting like we did. But we laughed and laughed and laughed anyway. We both loved movies, and even moreso we loved quoting movie lines. We had gotten stuck on A Few Good Men, and every time one of us would recite a line, the other one would get a smirk and smile, and end up in stiches. James would join us occasionally, but for the most part, this was how Dave and I would bond, and we would revert back to it whenever we needed a laugh again. We’d often slip back into a tense moment when politics or social issues arose, but inevitably, Jack Nicholson or Tom Cruise would snap us out of it with one of those classic zingers.

“Colonel? Why the two orders?”.

I guess you had to be there.

I think of Dave’s wife and his children often, and I wonder if they know what a wonderful man they have in him. His desire to love and protect them is as strong as I’ve ever seen, and I pray that I will be able to have those same qualities one day for my family.

We continued down the mountain, and stopped as we saw a fallen climber. There were 8 or 9 people huddled around him, attending to what looked like a hurt leg. We found out later that he had broken his leg on the climb down, perhaps trying to skate as Dave and I had done earlier. We wondered how he would traverse down the rest of the 18,000 feet.

We stopped at our tent after about a 2 hour trek down, and we rested.

After more tea, we continued down the mountain again, and the terrain turned from snow to rock. Kelly moved ahead of us, and James, Dave and I moved carefully down the unsteady rocks together. About 30 minutes in, we came across another fallen climber. This time it was a porter who was down. He was on the ground, writhing in pain, with apparently part of his bone sticking out of his leg, though it was covered by his pants leg. He was in bad shape. The other porters already had him on a stretcher and were preparing to carry him down the mountain. We stopped and asked if we could pray for him, and James and Dave led us all in a quick prayer. The porter seemed grateful, though maybe surprised. We then continued down the rocks on our way down to the next resting spot, hoping and praying that those two fallen climbers would get to safety quickly.

The rocks were about as trecherous as you could imagine. Though I doubt anything could compare to the struggle of climbing up the mountain, these rocks seemed determined to take that crown away from the memory in my worn body.

Suddenly, for the first time in 6 days, my legs started to hurt. Then my knees started to hurt. And finally my feet. The climb up really only challenged my lungs, but this climb down would reveal my againg bones, and would force me to stop far more than I wanted to. Each step was careful, and one false move would have put us in the same situation as those other two fallen men. Our boots were put to the ultimate test.

About half way down, we all ran out of water, and though we knew we’d get some at the next stop, we suddenly realized how reliant our bodies are on this one substance.

We made it down safely, but it was about as physically difficult as any of the days on the way up. Our bodies hurt, especially our legs. We were ready for our time on the mountain to be over.

I was the youngest of the climbers by 4 years, yet I felt that I was hurting the most. Well, I guess I’ll have to go back to the gym once I’m back in NYC. I was the slowest on this trek, but I won’t let that happen again.

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