Scaling a Peak

The summer was especially beautiful that year; hot but not too much, sky deep blue, sometimes dotted with sparkling white clouds. It was an ideal time to spend a week in the mountains. The hike to the SuperFine Hikers camp ground was long and tiring. But the limbs were raring to go again after a hearty meal of beef stew and freshly baked buns with loads of butter followed by a huge piece of apple pie with whipped cream. How did the cook manage to prepare such delicious dinners for six days of our stay in the remote camp remains a mystery to this day.

Every morning, sixty campers were offered four hikes of varying difficulty to chose from. Being short and fat and prone to run out of breath on even a hint of ascent, I chose the easiest of these. Most members of the group were keen long timers and there were no more than four or five modest enough to go on easy hikes. Experts set out to break records for quickest ascent to the toughest peaks, glance momentarily at the view of the valleys and rush down. We took our time as we strolled along the streams, stopping every few minutes to take a sip of clear liquid from the bottle while admiring the glorious views of the mountains above. The only record we established was done unwittingly on the first day; for taking longer on a five kilometer both way excursion than any previous group had taken in fifty years of the SuperFine Hikers. We beat the previous record of six hours twelve minutes comfortably by forty two minutes.

Not much happened during the camp that was remarkable. If it snowed or rained buckets flooding the tents, every detail would have stuck to the grey cells. There is nothing interesting in the cloudless, warm, sunny, mildly breezy, mosquito free days. I would have forgotten that I even went to Sun Rise Camp if it were not for what I remember as an amusing incident now but may not have been if the gods were in a foul mood that day. It was our fourth day. Robbie, the leader warned us in advance that although the easiest hike was long and had beautiful views, it had one rather steep descent on a scree slope. When I expressed alarm he assured me that I would be able to manage now that my fitness level had improved after thirty kilometers of walking. I was not happy at the prospect but I was won over when Robbie promised to help me if it became necessary.

We set off, my backpack loaded with peanut butter whole wheat sandwich, four cookies, one apple, one flask of weak tea and a big bottle of impure water, the impurity shall remain my little secret. With our sun hats, tough boots, brown shirts, blue jeans and walking sticks we would have made quite an impression on viewers if there were any. But their absence did not bother us because we had not gone into the wilderness to impress the strangers.

Five hours of the hike were uneventful except for the short nap during a long lunch break. The break was interesting because I dreamed that I was sleeping in my comfy bed at home, not lying on the bare rock with my head on the backpack. Perhaps due to the wishful dream I felt more refreshed than I ever feel in the morning at home.

We must have walked an hour in a single file on a narrow trail in the thick forest, long enough to forget the dream and comforts of home. On Robbie’s orders we sang the marching song of SuperFine Hikers - Yippie I O, here come the foolish but brave o - to keep the bears at an arm’s length. Then, without warning, we were out of the trees. We turned to our left, walked a few more minutes and stopped, I presumed, to look at the view. My admiration for the bright snowy peaks in the distance, their majesty enhanced by the glorious blue of the sky, turned into dread as my eyes slowly moved down and focused on the cliff a few feet from my feet. “Is this the scree slope we are supposed to go down?” I asked no one in particular.
Robbie turned around, looked at me with great sympathy and said in a consoling tone, “Yes that is it. It is not as hard as you think. You walk down leaning forward a little and the scree does all the hard work for you.”
“No way am I going down this cliff. I promised my wife I won’t do anything dangerous. And there is nothing dangerous if this is not.” I said with some firmness.
“Only option is to go back; not much of an option if you ask me. Look, Jennie is already halfway down,” Robbie said pointing to a dainty young lady sliding down as if she were a swan gliding on water.
“Jennie is fit, not fat like me. I have never been on a scree slope; leave alone a cliff like this one. You go ahead. I will retrace my steps and get back to the camp, late but in one piece.”
“I can’t let you go alone. Rest of the group is already most of the way down. Come on, hold my hand. We will do it together.” Robbie shook his body to balance his backpack, heavy with all the medical and other stuff a leader has to carry, and extended his hand towards me.
I did not fancy walking back for another five hours, longer if I got lost. So I grabbed his hand and gingerly walked towards the dreaded cliff.
“Hold my hand tight, take small steps, lean forward, do not pull,” Robbie offered final bit of advice.

We took our first tiny steps on the slope. I must have leaned too far forward, then leaned back to correct it. It is getting late; I should skip the details, they are really of no interest, and relate what happened next without ornamentation. I slipped and fell on my back taking Robbie with me. As we fell our hands became free and my eyes were shut tight. When my eyes opened, I was not on a hospital bed, as you would rightly assume, but on the soft ground at the bottom of the cliff. The feared descent could not have lasted more than a few seconds. Robbie was lying there too, a few feet away. Jennie offered me her hand and pulled me up on my feet. Robbie did not need help and got up on his own. We dusted our clothes and checked our limbs. Everything was in order.

On our way back, Robbie and I fell behind musing on our good fortune. At the camp entrance, a large crowd had gathered to greet us with cheers as if we had scaled a major peak.

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