“The Mist.”
Lightening
in the distance,
Dark
clouds rolling in,
We
exit through the keyhole;
into
the field of boulders.
Plunging
downwards towards the base,
no
longer can we see.
Behind
us is the peak?
Ahead
of is what?
Climbing
over rough terrain,
becoming
disoriented;
Following
the path?
Hail
falls upon our heads,
small
at first.
Coming down faster and heavier!
Quickening
our pace;
turning
on our headlamps;
but
we see only “feet” ahead.
Consider
turning back,
to
find shelter;
but
to no avail.
We
are disoriented at the least.
Clouds
part slightly,
glimpsing the great peak.
heading directly away from it, hoping the entrance to the field lies ahead.
Again
the mist closes in,
the
hail begins to fall,
wandering
off course…
Must
have walked for an hour and a half!!
The
clouds begin to dissipate.
Find ourselves halfway up another peak!
But,
“There is hope”.
We
have glimpsed the path,
and
can see where the horses were tied.
We
wander in that direction,
slowly,
carefully climbing countless four-foot obstacles in our way.
Ten
minutes more, and five more after that..
The mist finally parts for good!
Find ourselves standing near the entrance to the field of boulders.
Soaking
wet, exhausted, but as the scene unfolds we are once again happy.
Reminded of why men take such risks,
we
are standing near a stream of water running downhill, forever..
The
grass is dripping with fresh water,
we
are standing amongst a blooming field of yellow, purple, and red flowers
at
twelve-thousand feet!
The
clouds part further;
we
now can follow the path.
Looking
ahead we can see for miles!
Exhausted,
but happy, and glad we were that we did not die that day.
Only
lost in “the mist”, were we.
- Nick
Whittemore
July 30th, 2014
---- Based
on events on Longs Peak, which happened on August 22nd, 2013. ----
 |
| Before descending from Longs, as the clouds roll in. |
