I arrived earlier
than planned to Guadalupe Mountains. Followed
a winding road and set
up my tent. Pounded in stakes, rock
against rock, hard and unyielding. I filled
up my two water bottles, and packed my pockets with trail mix, jerky and a
cheese stick. After orienting myself
with the pocket map the ranger gave me, I directed myself to the Guadalupe Peak
trailhead. I subtly acknowledged a few
fellow hikers milling about, some restless teenagers with their parents, a
serious wilderness couple and some runners.
But they veered off to other trails before long, and I was alone with
the heat, the stones and the dirt. Just
a few scurrying critters to keep me company and the majestic yucca cutting slices
into the sky. So I greeted the tiny cactus
blooms, crouching down low to get a magnified look at their tissue paper petals
surrounded by sharp thorns. I marveled at their uniqueness, their
resilience, the audacity of their delicate beauty. I busied myself trying to capture the stark
shadows and intense color with my
camera.

But
as I wound around and up the mountain, I became more obsessed with the
seemingly endless zigzag of the path and it’s teasing meandering. The details faded and I got lost in the endless horizon stretching impossibly in the distance. I played a game with myself trying to guess
which way the trail would turn next and how far until I finally reached the
top. But I was repeatedly humbled by my
inability to predict its mysterious pattern.
And each “summit” was but a mere stepping-stone for the next.
Several
hours in, my heart leapt at the sound of voices coming towards me, but when
they appeared I saw it was a huddle of experienced adventurers with their firm
muscles, sun leather skin, and scuffed hiking boots. I found myself too intimidated to interrupt
their heated conversation with more than a nod as I feigned confidence and
plunged determinedly ahead. But as the sun blazed overhead and the water
sloshed light in my last bottle, I began kicking myself for the impertinence of
my ego. Why didn’t I at least ask how
much farther to the top? My calves
burned with each incline and my mouth was cotton
as repeated admonishments about hiking alone ran on loop in my brain. Sweat slipped between my breasts, and my t-shirt
plastered itself to my skin, thin
and drenched. Blisters rubbed raw
against my boots like pebbles. So I sang softly to reassure myself and lose my damning
thoughts in the mesmerizing switchbacks stitching up the mountain.
When
I finally I snapped out of my daze, I saw an arrow pointing to the summit and
broke into an awkward lope. Standing
finally at the top with the wilderness unfolding as if I were stepping into a painting, I felt a rush well worth the
climb. All the insecurity and doubt
drained out of me as I huddled in the sliver of shade provided by a small metal
monument proudly declaring “tallest peak in Texas.”
It
was then that I saw it. A flash of light in my periphery out west. I turned and saw the thunderstorm threatening
off in the horizon. Heavy and ominous,
jagged bolts of lightening ripping through the darkened sky. And just as it registered that there was not
a worse place in Texas to be at that moment, my feet were already up and
carrying me by leaps and bounds down the steep slope I had so recently trudged
cautiously up. My body mutinied against my more methodical
mind, and took over. I could hear the crunch
of pebbles under my boots, slipped and found myself sliding down rocky turns on
my ass, skidding with scraped palms splayed to slow the fall. The sky inky grey like a fabric hastily
thrown over a lampshade. Colors hushed
and the breeze suddenly moist sifting through my salty hair. My lungs were burning but I could not
stop. Though my legs trembled with the
impact of each pounding step, I was lost in the momentum. Before I knew it, I was rounding the last
turn and saw the landscape roll out before me like a carpet, my campsite at
last in view in the distance. My strides lengthened into a sprint, leaping
clumps of grass and stones as hail the size of golf balls bounced absurdly off
my head. Laughing hysterically, tears
streaming down my face, I at last dove headfirst into my tent and sprawled
spread eagle across the bottom, as jagged stones jabbed into my back. Just a thin fabric separated me from the
world outside. But as the wind rocked me
to and fro I surrendered my life to the night and swayed to my own West Texas
lullaby.
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