The Climb

Don't ask me why, but I looked around before I stepped off the asphalt path onto the almost undetectable trail. Perhaps it is because stepping off the asphalt is like escaping ... slipping away from so-called civilization into a world seldom explored by people. As I thought about it, it is a selfish act. I don't want anyone to see me because I don't want anyone to follow me. I'm going up to a realm where the higher I go the fewer people I will see.

Almost immediately I pass through a line of trees and shrubs which hide me from any questioning eyes. Have you ever tip-toed past someone in a game of hide-and-seek and felt that excited tension in your stomach? It is so intense as I scurry to safety behind the trees. "I made it," I think to myself. I got away without being seen. At that point there is the sense of relief. You feel like a puddle on the ground as all of the tension in your body and the fear in your brain is released and runs out of you. At least that's how I felt. It was so intense and so overwhelmingly uplifting that I had to stop for a while to enjoy it and to regain my composure.

As I stepped out on the trail and looked up at the mountain I became giddy. I've never been stoned but I can't imagine a drug high to be any more enjoyable. Give me my 'far-away-from-civilization-enjoying-the-solitude-and-excitement-of-the-wilderness' fix and I'll be happy.

The path leads through acres and acres of high alpine meadows. From the magnificent color and rugged terrain you'd never guess of the struggle for survival that goes on here constantly. I am careful to stay on the path. A long-term trampling study that was conducted at Glacier National Park in northwestern Montana found that a single foot print on sub-alpine vegetation can take 50-80 years to recover. That time is almost doubled for the high alpine vegetation. Yes, some vegetation is lost when indigenous animals walk and feed on the meadows, but their presence is a part of the balance and helps the vegetation survive. For example, hooves and bear claws prep the soil for seeds and provides oxygen. Human foot prints just destroy. Nothing more. We are the destructive intruder into this world and I try my best to makes a minimal impact. Staying on the trail is the best start.

That isn't always the easiest thing to do. The local animals also like the trails and there are times when I must share with a big Billy or some other animal. I have had more times than I can count where I had to carefully step onto a large outcrop of rock and permit the animal have the right-of-way. They give me a wary glance as they pass but, for the most part, ignore me. I stand in awe.

As I move through the meadows I scan the horizon for large ungulates, bears, mountain lions and other animals for whom this is home. Up here I've seen the illusive and magnificent wolverine as well as the majestic grizzly bear. You don't see the mountain lion, but they see you. They are always in predator mode. I usually count on the marmot, columbian ground squirrel and other small animals to let me know if there is a predator in the area.

After the expanse of meadows I pass along a very open ledge. On my left is a steep outcropping of rock which creates countless small waterfalls as water makes its way off the mountain. There is one stream which is wide and deep enough to force me to ford. To my right the rocky meadow drops off sharply and disappears about thirty yards away where it drops two to three hundred feet.

The trail begins its steep ascent. I climb from one narrow ledge of bare rock to the next. I am well aware that I'm walking on some of the oldest rock on earth. I am on rock that is billions of years old. This is rock that, elsewhere, would be found many hundred of feet below ground, not the better part of a mile and a quarter up.

All round me are rocks that indicate that this area was once at the bottom of an ocean some eighty miles west. There are large boulders that show the cracks that form when mud dries in the hot sun. There are also those that display the ripples created by millions of years of wave and tides. Then there are the stromatolites. Stromatolites are the fossils of the oldest living organism on the planet. The cynobacteria that died and formed stromatolites are responsible for there being air on planet Earth. On a previous climb I had found stromatolites a few hundred feet from the top of the mountain. This day I discovered an entire band of them at about 7,000 feet which could be followed for quite some distance.

I found myself so immersed in ancient ancient that I almost expected to look up and see some animal from the Cenozoic period checking to see if I am edible as I began to climb over large outcroppings. It wasn't long before I had to stop after each short ascent to look for the next best avenue to the top.

Many climbers just go across a scree field to a saddle between the two mountains and then up to the summit. I don't like to try to cross scree. I don't feel I have the skill and that scares me. The one scree field covers several acres with an elevation change between bottom and top of at least sixty feet. If you start sliding out of control on that scree field you have a very long drop at the bottom.

Even before you get to the top of the mountain you have a panoramic view in all directions.

People ask 'why do you go up there?' I laugh as I stand looking out over the great wilderness. The cold wind is painfully stinging any exposed portion of my face. I can't imagine how it would feel to be up here on a rainy or snowy day. But I look out at the wilderness world which I love. I see everything that is good and beautiful and positive in the world. Here and in that wilderness I feel free and I experience peace.

Why am I up here? I look back down toward the civilization where I carefully sneaked onto the path that brought me here. Why am I up here? The answer was simple . . . because "they" are down there.