Prelude to The Way Back

While playing solitaire, as I was watching late night reruns of Gunsmoke, and opening my second bottle of wine, I received an alert on my phone. A reminder that simply said: “Sully backpack trip.”

Last summer, before all of this mayhem, Walt , Sully and I had gone on a five day backpack trip into the western sierras that had really been - well - perfect: The weather - the environment- the camaraderie, all perfect! We spent the five days hiking into the back-country - climbing up mountains and discussing everything from tree types to the speed of light. (To be honest, Sully and Walt discussed all of those scientific things ... I just enjoyed them.)

Sully: a wildly passionate biology teacher who knows the name of every tree, plant and rock formation - and at night can take you across the zodiac on a mystical journey bringing science and mythology into a delicious union.

And, Walt: a good friend with whom I have had numerous adventures. Curious and quick witted, Walt has a way of keeping the party moving. The annoying fact that he has the stamina of a billy goat is balanced with his willingness to go out of his way to make things easier for the other guy.

And Me: the other guy who only knows that trees are pretty to look at ... and that the speed of light comes too early in the day!

The trip had been so perfect, I had committed then to organizing another trip with Sully and as many of his four offspring as he could convince to come along the following summer. Sully had been so stoked he even wrote in the climbers log on top of Madera Peak: “I told you I would get you up here!” Well, next summer was not only here ... the trip was scheduled for next week!

Next week - CRAP!!! I was in no shape to go ... and not just because of my emotional and spiritual lethargy. A five day pack has physical implications. Second bottles of wine, high scores on solitaire and reruns of Gunsmoke may pass the time, but they are no way to get prepared for the back-country.

Still, a commitment is a commitment - the next morning I called Sully half hoping he would cancel the trip, but in his “Sullyesk” way he was more passionate than ever. He had convinced his two boys, Aiden and Brody, to go and he was excited about the prospect of their first wilderness experience. So, like it or not, the next morning I dug into my gear box in the garage and began pulling gear for a four person excursion into the Ansel Adams Wilderness.

The morning of the trip I packed up my truck and headed out. Even though, for me, the wilderness has always been a truer cathedral than anything built by man, this time I had no expectations. I left for the trip because I said I would. I wasn’t feeling good; I wasn’t feeling bad ... I just wasn’t feeling anything.

I hadn’t seen Aiden or Brody since I had gone hunting with Sully seven years prior. The boys came along with their b.b.guns back then. Aiden was 12 at the time and Brody 8 or 9. They were a lot of fun at that age; but, I remember, even then, how different their personalities were. In the nature vs nurture debate it was Nature - 1, Nurture - 0.

Remembering back to that hunting trip brought a smile as I parked in front of the house. The smile changed to open-mouthed shock ... I was not prepared for the two brutes who met me at their front door with handshakes and rib-cracking hugs. Aiden was about to enter his freshman year of college and Brody his junior year of high school. Both played water polo in high school and it showed. My entire teaching career had been working with young people their age which fit into my comfort zone, and their size and strength had me scheming ways to have them carry the heavy stuff up the mountain. I began to perk up a little ... but guarded. What if they couldn’t handle my sarcasm? - What if they complained about the food - or the bugs - or the dirt? What if they were absorbed with their technology? OH NO! What if they were millennials? I would end up slitting my wrists in the backcountry for sure.

#Healing #Grief #Depression #Loss