Ain't No Mountain High Enough

Chihuahua Desert, 100+ degree heat, the Chisos mountains, several thousand feet of elevation and descent, 12 litres of water and all our camping gear on our backs, and twenty miles over the course of two days combined to create what was probably the most physically and emotionally intense experience I have ever had.

I learned a great deal about surrender during this hike. Several miles into the desert, there isn't much option of turning back, nor is there the option of stopping. I was incredibly exhausted through most of the hike, the inclines and declines were difficult for everybody in our group, and often times I had no will to keep on moving, but had to because dehydrating in the desert is far less pleasant than hiking.

But oh, it was amazing. The view is spectacular, and being so far away from civilization and the noises of people was liberating. I cried freely often, releasing my old inhibitions about letting people see or know when I needed help, as a large group we all suffered our own pain and grew closer because of it. I had a few experiences that touched me with the realism of it:

On the first day, we missed a cairne and went off trail. Half an hour later, I started worrying, and shortly thereafter our little group realized that we were certainly quite lost. We were just preparing to blow our emergency whistle when by sheer chance another member of our group, in a different trail party happened to find us.

On the second day, I was leading my group, being aware of the markers and setting the pace. I walked up to a bush and it rattled at me. Rattle snakes are common in chihuahua, and deadly. We passed without harm, but it still gave me a fright.

Last night, we were unable to find our backcountry campground and, as the light faded, decided to camp out on the trail itself. My head was against a pile of rocks, and my feet were at a prickly pear bush, and I was terrified that I would encounter scorpions or spiders. Instead, a wandering Javalina encountered our party, it's fearful brays waking us all up as it passed through our campsite. We all waited, tensely whispering back and forth, waiting to see if it would choose to wander away or attack us. It wandered away, and we continued on our way.

There were also several funny experiences:

On the first day, Woody pocketed a prickly pear fruit, forgetting that it was covered in spines. He had to cut out his pocket, and went the rest of the hike that way.

After two days backcountry, we stopped by the lodge for milk. All of us stared in wonder at running water, tents, and toilets. It was with amazement that I washed my face, after two days of intense water conservation.... It was just two days, but possibly the longest two days of any of our lives.

At one point yesterday, my group was very very weary, and we were gradually becoming slower and slower as we pushed forwards. Eventually, we all collapsed on a rock face to sit for a moment (but not too long, stopping in 100+ temps in the middle of the day is a stupid idea), staring at the sky. It was then that we noticed those nice birds we had been observing were actually a group of turkey vultures, and they were circling us. Yikes!



In other news, I've gotten over my fear of bugs mostly, I learned how to use the potty in the desert (no room for inhibitions when in this situation), I drank a mouthful of ants (ooops), and I'm having an incredibly phenominal experience in the desert.



Lastly, I would like to give a shout out to my mom, who is awesome (happy mother's day!!), and thank her extensively for the 3Litre camelback bladder, without which I probably would have died in the desert. Or something close to it...