By the time I got here, at 1:30pm, I was literally pleading with God for my life.
This path had narrowed to about a foot wide and looked like it hadn't even been used by animals
in a long time. Whattya think that incline is? 20 degrees? The path was even inclined, and
combined with how narrow it was, and the parched, eroding soil, a few times
one of my feet would slip off and I'd start to slide down this major incline, clawing for my life.
After dry-heaving and puking up foam, I finally gave up hoping the trailhead would come around the
next ridge, and lost the trail again a couple times after turning around.
VIDEO
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GOD, water is good. Got here about 3pm. Man, I could've died up there. Or rather, maybe a
hundred feet lower, wrapped around a tree. No water for four hours, lost in the wilderness on an empty stomach.
I weighed myself when I got home. I'd lost six pounds. I think my digital scale is screwy 'cause I weighed
myself just now, in the spirit of journalistic integrity, and now it says I've only lost one pound*. Anyway,
it was a serious workout up there. (*new update: just got back from the doctor, and it's officially 4.5 pounds.)
That night, my body totally spent, I really faced some stuff in my soul. I could tell you about breathing the very wind
and river, but you might not understand. Personal spirituality thing. Although, if you listen to the song The Little
People, from Kitchen Swing, you'll hear me
sing all about it. VIDEO
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