When the Smoke Clears

Well, the weekend was long, drawn out, and full of people… peeps, as the wannabees say today.

I was faced with a challenge: a blogmeet I really wanted to attend and a mountaineering unit that had an FTX and really needed me for medical coverage. Could I manage both?

Why, yes. Considering the one day at work in which I was actually in three meetings at the same time, I can do it. Thing is, this time I would have to do it without electronic gadget assistance.

Friday the blog-sis Chou came up for a visit. I was able to take her to lunch, show her around the town square that Bou barely recognized, then a tour of the cabin while gathering my equipment, and swing back by my office for a little bit of business and a chance for her to grab some internet. Bloggers sure do love them some internet tubes.

I could tell she liked my office and workplace: lots and lots of young men in uniforms. What was also interesting was that I enjoyed her company. You never really know what you are going to get when you meet someone for the first time though you have written to each other and read each other. She was fun.

Next I was able to drive her to the hotel, the Chalet Kristy. Making sure she was fine, it was time to head back towards the mountain which was only a few miles away. I had just enough time to change into uniform (sorry, Chou) and get my bags pulled together when the unit started showing up. Great timing.

This was quickly followed by the scramble to get “on line” (not the same as online) and off we went. I’ve been impressed with these men before but this newest group… just amazing. Not a single one was attempting to slack off in the slightest, no matter the pain. And there was pain. Serious pain. Their instructors pushed them just to their perceived physical limits, then pushed them a little farther to show them they could overcome their minds. I know my position, to watch for safety issues. I felt so bad at one point as my entire group was actually screaming from the pain of the leg cramps. I was traveling right behind them, but no one was making me carry any extra weight beyond my gear… and my medical gear… including several liters of fluids. (Hmm… maybe the reason the instructors like having me around is in the realm of “hey, if the old guy can do it, what’s your excuse?”)

The big difference between those men and myself though? Aside from their true grit, determination and mental toughness: Recovery. Pure and simple. They recovered so quickly. After finally making it to the campspot and with 20 minutes of securing their gear, they were just fine again. Time to go do some rappelling… and on and on into the night (while I was receiving text messages on the side of a mountain at 2 am.)

As dawn finally came around, it was time to move to the part I don’t like so much due to the fear of heights… the Uppers. It’s mostly the part of getting there where there is a section on slippery rock at a severe angle where a cable has been installed to keep you in steady contact with earth.

But this time I noted my testicles didn’t throb when I looked over the edge. That’s a step.

Once noon hit, they were mostly out of the dangerous stuff so I headed back down the mountain. Down down down. All the way down the goat trail then the 1.5 mile walk from the base to where the jeep was parked. Finally back into town to the blogmeet where the good Zonker let me shower and change out of uniform (sorry again, Chou) before meeting everyone.

Then off to lunch (unfairly paid for by the impressive Dax) where I started running into all the Blown-eyeds. I was happy I made it. Unfortunately I was so worn out I knew after the first drink post-lunch, I would need to sleep. Otherwise, I would sleep, but in public. So the kind Zonker and a man I actually missed, Redneck, let me use their cabin.

Out cold. That’s what I was.

Luckily I woke up again not too much later and was back out hanging, drinking and planning on dinner. We ate well again, though I may have struck fear, or at least disgust, into everyone besides Elisson as I chowed on a hunk of roast beef VERY rare but complaining it was a bit overcooked.

As I explained, there’s no point in eating an animal if you cannot taste its flesh and drink its life-blood.

“You want some of my fish? I can’t eat it all” some sweet Canadian offered. (Update: okay it was chicken. Sure, I don’t eat raw chicken, but it needs to be just barely cooked through. Still, I thought it was fish sticks.)

Cooked fish? EW! Fish should only be eaten raw. Sick people.

More on the bloggers later, that’s a whole different post, but in the end, I had to leave the crowd, drive back to the mountain and start a hike back up towards the men. It was almost time for the midnight run back down.

As I stood there at the base, a mile of steep terrain ahead of me, a bright, almost full moon alighting the night sky, I could see twinklings of green just barely. I knew the night rappel was under way, chem lights attached to the harnesses of each soldier. It was a silent night out there and I could hear a faint echo of “Mountain!” as each got off the ropes.

Amazing men. Just amazing. I thank them for the honor of including me, and allowing me to look after their health.

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