"Withstanding"
By Cameron Robello
He left a piece of himself on those
hills. The hills that laugh as you think
you’re approaching the plateau, only to be physically destroyed when the grade
increases through the starlit morning fog. Continuing up into the sky,
determined to rise above the ominous mist, his heart beat wildly. His dank
respiration clouded his glasses, which he pulled from his face and let dangle
around his neck. Under the unusual circumstances, he could see farther without
them.
The berms on the side of the
pathway had been his way of gauging how close he was to a gentler incline.
They’d creep up until they towered above the path. Falling boulders were a
possibility, but the real concern was a flood. The fog was thick and dark. The
morning was wet and cold. Markings in the dirt suggest water frequently flowed
down the path, and the ground was smooth and even.
Generally, the berms gradually
dropped off until they were a humble bump in the road, solidified by decades of
rain and moisture. But in this instance, while pushing through a particularly
steep portion of the climb, the berms completely disappeared. There was a short
break in the fog. Deadly steep drop-offs hugged the beaten pathway. He
continued, carefully placing each step to ensure his balance – and just as fast
as they left, the monstrous berms returned.
It had been a day since his last
drink of water when he reached the top. He dropped his 90-pound pack and walked
down a level dirt path to a small concrete building, using a light on top of
the building to lead him there. He stomped the morning mud from the bottom of
his boots and pulled an empty canteen from his pocket. It was filled, then
emptied in a pair deep draughts. Then it was filled and emptied again.
He walked back up the path
following his footprints, which led him to the highly reflective strap wrapped
around his pack. Now that he was done with his grueling ascent, the cold began
to seep into his skin. His clothing was drenched in sweat and was worsened by
the unforgiving mist. Moisture condensed on his exposed hands, numbing them
further. He reached into his pack and pulled a pair of black leather gloves and
put them on. Then he grabbed a small dry cloth and wiped his glasses clear.
The sun began to rise, drawing
additional moisture from the ground. Now, instead of a dark fog, he stood in a
lighted cloud, briefly cooled further by morning phenomenon. Shivering, he
removed his clothes, drenched with sweat, and removed a fresh set from his
pack. He put a copious amount of foot powder in his change of socks. He
switched clothing and stuffed his soiled clothes into his pack, along with the
glasses cloth and foot powder, and sealed it up tight.
He walked back to the concrete
building and took another series of deep draughts from his canteen. Through the
thinning veil of fog, he could see a small animal – perhaps a squirrel – rustling
with foliage in a few yards away. It stopped moving, sensing something. Just
when it began to scurry away, a hawk swooped down through the blanket of
moisture and plucked the animal from the ground. Nature is amazing, the hiker
thought, and stuffed a full canteen in his pocket.
With the pack back on his back, he hiked down
the hill carefully. Get moving too fast, and all that extra weight on your back
will seize any excuse to take you down to the ground. And then you’ll slide down that hill. Or if you’re
feeling western, you can roll. Yeah,
roll. All it takes is an innocent miss step, and you’re a tumbleweed.
Help!
I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!
He arrived home after
the sun had passed the mid-point in the sky. There was much more training in
his future, but this day was done. Relieved, he unpacked his pack and laid it
out in the sun to dry, then immediately prepared a hot shower. He then put two sets of sweaty clothing in the wash, along
with his dirty laundry for the week.
In his shower, he took a second to collect his thoughts. His legs hurt, his back ached, and he was exhausted. But there was much more training in the future. Determination now, he knew, would make all the difference when the time came for a real performance.
He didn't know was when said moment came, there would be no hill.
In his shower, he took a second to collect his thoughts. His legs hurt, his back ached, and he was exhausted. But there was much more training in the future. Determination now, he knew, would make all the difference when the time came for a real performance.
He didn't know was when said moment came, there would be no hill.
It was flat.
