Dramatic title, I know.
Don’t worry. This isn’t about Kathy Bates breaking somebody’s ankles with a sledgehammer. (Shudder.)
This post is about this other crazy bitch…
Yep, you’re reading that right.
Misery Ridge Trail. Most difficult.
And, we hiked it.
Wondering if the trail lived up to its name? I would have my ass and legs tell you, but we’re still not on speaking terms.
At around 3,000 feet in elevation, the huffing and puffing as you climb this steep trail humbles even the savviest hikers. There was seriously a moment when I wanted to stop, turn around, and give up.
Yet, determination came from somewhere inside. I thought of nothing else but making it to the top. Everything faded away and it was only me, Mr. H, and nature—bound together, beneath the bright sky.
Eventually, we conquered that damn rock.
We were still in Oregon—Smith Rock, to be exact—but it seemed like Mars. The high desert was so different from the mossy wonderland we were used to.
In central Oregon, there is still a hint of what lies on the other side of the mountains. It’s half desert, half forest.
And, holy shit is it gorgeous!
A climbers paradise, every time you look up, you see one human or a whole group of humans hanging on the side of the giant rock.
They move with slow precision, choosing each movement as if their life depends on it.
Because it does. One false move is all it takes for these daring climbers to have a really bad day.
Which is why medical huts with crutches and stretchers are strategically placed throughout the park.
At the start of our adventure on Misery Ridge Trail, it was all about this deep internal discovery. What we were truly capable of when fatigue and doubt set in.
After all of that was done and the trail leveled out, our breath slowed and our smiles returned. But we were different, walking with a newfound energy, almost bouncing the rest of the way.
Hell, I even skipped a few times. And obviously, a Yoga tradition was a must.
There were times of difficulty, but we never gave up. There were times when I slipped and his hand was right there.
Climbing that rock together was a bit of a defining moment, a beautiful misery where it was only us against the rest of it.
Kind of like life. Hmm…
How about you guys…any defining travel/sport/adventure moments that changed you in some way?