It was late winter in Flagstaff, Arizona. At fifty five degrees and a clear sky, it was t-shirt weather in March. I was hiking with two friends who were icons of creativity and mental freedom for me. In northern Arizona you have to look up to see the horizon. Something about that brought more than just a few moments of awe when taking in the clearest of blue skies trimmed by the San Francisco Peaks. Having been a college student there at Northern Arizona University is one of the greatest privileges I've had.
Hiking on a ridge, Kevin, Jeff (aka 'Spin'), and I were reveling in the oddity of walking around in short sleeves when it was below freezing a week earlier. We came on the usual outcropping of rocks found in these parts. So, we took to a little climbing. As much as I enjoyed hiking, I was far from being a natural outdoors-type. Kevin and Spin did this kind of thing on a weekly, if not daily, basis. We climbed, hiked and finally came upon a unique rock formation. Two huge flat-sided rocks sat right next to each other. Looking up, we could see that it would be possible to use these rocks to climb up to a small ledge then shimmy up another mound of rock in order to get up to a plateau where we could walk among some Ponderosa Pines.
Kevin went first, crabbing up between the two rock faces, back to one face, feet pushing up against the other. Kevin made it to the ledge quickly, got a toe-hold and was up on the plateau, shouting down climbing advice within a couple minutes. Spin took off between the rock faces, ratcheting himself up. Before he got to the ledge, I got myself in between the massive rocks and began crabbing upward. I wanted to see for myself just how he would get from the ledge to the plateau with that dome-like mound as an intervening obstacle.
Spin and I were on the ledge together. It was maybe three feet wide and a little more than a boot's length deep. Spin climbed up a ways and then took hold of a woody root jutting from the vertically oriented earth in front of us. He grabbed hold, found a place for his right foot to securely push from and was up on the plateau. Kevin and Spin were looking down giving me encouragement. The dome-mound seemed huge, like part of a great sphere erupting from the formation. The obvious approach seemed to grab the same root as Spin and follow along. And that is exactly what I did.
When I grabbed the root it felt firm. But with some pulling, it broke free. I was a little less than half way up the dome at this point. I was laying flat on the surface with no toe-hold or anything to grab with my hands. It seemed the stress Spin put on the root, loosened it up. Gravity began to have it's predictable effect - I began to slide down the face of the rock. In my mind the distance from where I was to the ground where I began my ascent became measured with precision. "It's something like thirty feet to the ground. Dave, as you're falling you might be able to get into that 'crab' position and keep from meeting land. If you can't you'll probably break a leg, but you'll live. Don't worry. Screaming in pain will be appropriate. No one will think less of you for it."
While I was working out this thought experiment, Kevin and Spin were yelling out, "Flatten out, Dave! Spread out your arms and legs! Get your center of gravity low next to the rock!" As it turned out, that was good advice. I slid slower down the rock face. But still, I was getting mentally ready to be a broken mess down on the ground. As I slid over the peak of the dome to the more vertical part I picked up speed. Then I stopped.
I'd forgotten about that very excellent ledge that served as the base to begin ascending the dome. My feet landed firmly, securely on the ledge. My heart raced and I was shaking. "You okay, Dave?!", shouted Kevin. "Shit!", yelled Spin, with a big smile on his face. Honestly, I don't remember what I said in response. But now my work was to figure out a way up the dome for myself. I gathered myself and looked up at the blue sky. It was nice. Then as I looked at the rock face and what was available, I saw a rock jutting out a little to the left of where that stupid root was. I shimmied up a little way and checked how well attached the rock was. I grabbed on, found a place to leg press up and then I was on the plateau with my cohorts. I was shaky and drained of energy from the adrenalin surge.
The plateau was expansive with Ponderosa Pines soaring upward. The rest of the hike was more leisurely. Walking in a Ponderosa Pine forest is like walking through a strawberry field. The closer you get to a Ponderosa, the strawberry fragrance intensifies. Getting your nose right up to the bark and inhaling deeply is wonderful. Maybe the Ponderosa inspired the tree hugging phenomenon?
Thinking back to this experience, the lesson is obvious. Not to be too allegorical, but at many key points in life, making your own way and not following what seemingly worked for someone else is what is called for. I've been more than guilty of seeking advice, over thinking things, and trying to find the best role model to pattern myself after. But, when it comes down to it, looking within, making a choice and moving forward has gotten me farther. Trust yourself, ok?
