Sunday, July 2

We woke early on Sunday (around 6 am) for what ended up being the hardest day of physical activity of my life. (Yeah, it even beat that marathon I ran when I was 12 or so, for those of you who are willing to believe the truth that it actually happened.) It also turned out to be one of the most rewarding days of my life. Here's the short version...

The South Sister is among Three Sisters in Central Oregon. The South Sister is the tallest of the three and stands at a proud 10,358 feet. And yes, I felt each and every one of those feet. The trail to the summit is about 6 miles long and gains a ridiculous 4,900 feet in elevation. Yeah, that basically means that it's long and steep.

We began by reading Psalm 121: "I lift up my eyes to the hills --where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip..." We found those verses to be true as we began our journey.

The first 1 1/2 miles took about 1 1/2 hours and was straight through the woods. We were on the trail by 6:30 but had pretty much lost the trail by 6:45. You see, we weren't expecting the snow to be so far south in the woods. Yet snow there was and trail there was no longer. We tried to find our way for a while, but then we heard someone coming up behind us. It was an older gentlemen who we promply named Captain Red Coat. Captain for his age and seeming knowledge of what he was doing and Red Coat because, well, he wore a red coat. We began to follow him, but a minute later some young climber came flying by. Literally flying. He was jolly and pleasant and moving at an alarming pace, quickly going by not only already-winded Blom and I, but also sailing past the Captain.

After this first section, we came to the top of the tree-line and found that there were not only beautiful views of the mountains around us (including the one we wanted to claim), but that there was also a nice stretch of pretty-much flat ground for us to cross. It was glorious. The sun shone and the mountains rose and Blom and I skipped with glee. (Well, you might not have called it skipping, but there was certainly a new spring in our step.) Our goal was to keep Captain Red Coat in view just so we could get an idea of where we were supposed to go next.

After this nice middle section, we again began an uphill battle that would continue for several more hours. First there was snow that we were climbing, and we thought it was pretty difficult. Yeah, we were wrong, because we discovered that the real difficulty began once we were done with the snow. Once we had been going for a total of about 4 hours, we climbed another little hill that had been blocking our view of the summit and saw that the remaining part would be done on dirt and rock. We thought the summit didn't look all that far away. Yeah, wrong again. We began the trek, and let's just say that these were 2 hours of misery. This was where the climb was no longer fun and I began to loathe the Sister. I wanted to kill her or wanted her to kill me. Either way would have been fine, but it seemed the latter was likely to win over. We would move for thirty seconds and then stop for fifteen. Over and over and over again. Meanwhile, that seemingly close summit seemed further away than ever. I wondered if this could be worth it, and figured there was no way it was, but for some reason, I kept going anyway. And through the pain, there were moments of great laugher. For example:

STEPHEN: I think I have a hernia.
BLOM: I think I'm having a heart-attack.

Maybe it was the lack of oxygen, but I couldn't stop laughing. When making a hike like this one, a good hiking partner makes all the difference in the world, and I can say that I had the best. On top of the agony and the falling rocks, it was during this final stretch that the young jolly guy came literally running back down the mountain. When he passed, it was all I could do to keep myself from reaching out my foot to trip that jolly little I-bet-he-has-no-friends-otherwise-why-would-he-be-doing-this-alone and take him to the ground.

Finally, after about 6.5 hours, we were at the summit. And yes, it immediately was clear that it was all worth it. The skies were clear and the views ridiculously beautiful. I smiled, Blom smiled, and I think God smiled too. Right at the top, we were also accompanied by a few hundred butterflies which were apparently in some sort of migration at the time. Yeah, it was pretty amazing. We rested and took pics and stayed up there for a half hour before we began the climb down.

Thankfully, hiking down is nothing like hiking up, and it was rather enjoyable. Plus, we were getting more and more oxygen as we went. I was elated. Once we got to the snow, we could slide on our butts down the steep sections, which was of course delightful. Every once in a while, I would look back at the beast I had conquered and let out a scream of pure joy. Once we got back to the woods and another steep downhill climb, my feet began to cry out against me. They say that one of the greatest blessings in nature is to get away from the sound of humanity. For me, I think I may have rejoiced more when we began to hear cars and knew that we were so close to being done. All in all, it took us TEN hours. And yeah, others do it so much quicker, but I don't care. Let them. We had an agonizing, yet surprisingly joyful, day out on the Mountain and came back heroes. We hugged at the bottom, removed our socks and shoes, and then dreamed of the rest that was to come that evening.

South Sister, you and I have met. And there were moments when I hated her. She wouldn't allow me to give up, because she simply kept calling me to take one more step. And each step was worth it. Perhaps she knew more than I how it would feel to accomplish the climb in its entirety. I know there's a song that says "you can reach the peak but that's not the point," basically saying it's more about the climb than the actual finish. Yeah, while I see the truth in that, I also say that the peak is pretty dang good.