Yesterday afternoon I went for an exhilarating, terrifying, exhausting hike with the kids. I made the mistake of judging the trail based on what the base looked like, instead of checking a trail guide. When I later checked the trail guide, I found that this trail is rated “moderate/strenuous”.
Yeah, that’s about right.
It starts as an intriguing set of steps carved into the side of a mountain, and turns into a series of kinda-sorta-steps/flattish rocks and narrow dirt pathways on the edge of a cliff.
I inherited an irrepressible wanderlust from my grandfather, and so I was continually driven to find out what was around each corner of this winding trail. Well, the views were spectacular, when I was brave enough to stop and look at them. But when I was walking, I was ONLY looking at my feet – one foot in front of the other, don’t look down, don’t look back.
If you don’t know me well, you don’t know that I’m very prone to falling. I blame it on a curve in my spine, which messes with the alignment of my hips, making one ankle curve in and the other curve out. From the time I was a teenager, I’ve turned an ankle once every year or two, usually leading to a nasty fall and a sprained ankle. And most of these falls came while walking across flat, even terrain without obstacles. So, yeah. Maybe hiking mountainous terrain is not the best idea.
But I can’t resist.
My sure-footed daughter had no fear climbing these steps on the side of a cliff, and my son wasn’t slowed in the slightest, despite his inappropriate footwear choice. But I know all too well that if I turn an ankle, the best case scenario is a painful walk back down. The worst case scenario is a much faster descent, tumbling down the face of the mountain.
I carried on for about 12 or 15 miles, my heart pounding both from the exertion and from a healthy dose of fear. Now, mind you, I’m SURE it was at least 12 miles, but my GPS says it was only a mile. Damn thing must be on the fritz.
Once my legs had turned to pure jelly, I decided to rest and recover my nerves for a while, since it was going to be lot tougher to Not Look Down on the way down.
The kids continued on for another few minutes, but thoughtfully turned around before long so I wouldn’t be sitting alone all afternoon. Although I wanted them to enjoy themselves, I was VERY happy to see them come back in to view. Its tough sitting on the side of a cliff, knowing your kids are out of your site on the side of the cliff, without thinking of all the things that might have gone wrong. I spent some time enjoying the view, checking out the local flora and fauna (what’s the different between flora and fauna, anyways?), and watching a red squirrel.
And that took up the first 5 minutes. Drink some water, eat a few cashews. Try to decide the best place to pee on the side of this cliff – knowing fully well that 1/2 the people across the way on Cadillac Mountain have binoculars or zoom lenses. Decide that I can wait.
15 minutes have passed. Compose text message to the kids, trying to sound casual while still asking if they are alive and unharmed. “So, having a good time? Anything interesting happening up there?”. Decide not to send text. 25 minutes have passed. Walk a few feet up the trail, peer around the bend to see if they are coming back yet. They’re not.
Dial kid 1 – no answer. Dial kid 2 – no answer. Cell phone signals are sketchy up here on top of the world. Discover that all of my games on my phone got lost when my SD card went bad a while back. Tell myself to RELAX, enjoy the downtime. I’m not doing a very good job of taking my own advice. Finally, after 6 or 8 hours (ok, 30 minutes), I hear the tell-tale whistling that tells me: A) Tyler is nearby and, B) Tyler is relaxed, meaning no one has fallen to their death. Yay!
So all that’s left is the terrifying descent.
But just the relief of being back in site of the kids and knowing I’ll be there to heroically (and gracefully) dive through thin-air and grab hold of the ankle of a falling kid with one hand while simultaneously grabbing hold of the one-and-only tree within site with the other hand gives me great comfort, and I’m much more relaxed on the trip down. Don’t pop my bubble – I know it’s just a “mom fantasy”. I know its not reality, but I’m clinging to it anyway, cuz those types of fantasies keep me sane.
I hug the wall on the narrow shelves, watch each step carefully, slide down big steps on my butt when necessary, and in a remarkably short time we’re back on the ground, exhausted and happy. Knowing that I made a once-in-a-lifetime hike (cuz I’m NEVER doing that one again!), and made some great memories with the kids. It was a good day.
Kimba
Photos: Martin, Kimberlee. August 2016.
© Kimberlee Martin, 2016. All rights reserved.