Nobody would ever call me a mountain man.
The farthest above sea level I’ve ever been — not counting airplanes — is a little above 12,000 feet. I can’t claim too much credit for that, though. It was in 1988 in Rocky Mountain National Park on a paved road and I drove there in my Pontiac Fiero. I did follow instructions when I got out of the car at the visitors’ center.
“DO NOT RUN. YOU WILL FAINT.”
I did a little better 17 years later in the southern part of the Sierras, climbing to 11,709 feet at Kearsarge Pass with my wife and son and then camping for two nights in Kings Canyon. As out of shape as I was at the time, it was amazing that I did it. There were two catches. First, my son, who is an amazing athlete and was 20 at the time, carried my backpack as well as his own for at least half the ascent.
Second, on the early part of the hike back, I had some altitude sickness and made several calls to Ralph and Huey. Also known as praying to the porcelain God or riding the porcelain bus. Yes, I was in a fraternity in college.
Even with the additional help, I felt pretty good about making it. The only physical accomplishment I can compare it to was my 12-mile hike in the heat of a South Texas summer in 2010. Not too shabby.
I can’t do that stuff anymore. I’;m 70 years old and have a degenerative disk in my back and a missing ACL in my left knee. I can have the knee replaced and probably will at some point, but I think I’m stuck with the back.
As far as mountain climbing, I have two female friends who put me to shame. My friend Susan from college climbed to the Mount Everest base camp in Tibet, which is 16,900 feet above sea level. My friend Nancy from my mid 20s, climbed to the top of the tallest mountain in Africa. Mount Kilimanjaro is 19,341 feet above sea level, and they even made a movie about it with Gregory Peck.
Compared to them, I felt like the guy in the audience at a Tim Wilson comedy show. Wilson asked him if he’d played Little League baseball. The guy shook his head.
Wilson looked askance at him. “You a puss?”
I didn’t play Little League either.
I’ve never talked to either of my friends about their mountain climbs. I’d be too afraid they’d look at me askance and I’d have to say, “Yeah, I’m a puss.”
No apologies necessary. It’s all about being outside, enjoying the beauty and challenges any hike or climb offers you.
My trek up Kilimanjaro was my first time I had summitted a mountain – and what I remember was being so wrapped up in the wonder of what I was seeing, and desperately focus on putting one foot in front of the other – especially as I got to the top. The sense of accomplishment, the beauty for the morning sunrise, and the tremendous appreciation for our guides still brings tears to my eyes.
Good for you, my friend.