I had my first portering job today. Portering is Sherpa-esque in the fact that you hike up a mountain and carry other people's stuff for them. Christian asked me if I would do it for his clients camped up at the base of Mount Owen. And me, being the expert on that mountain in particular, agreed.
Which meant...getting up at 3 in the morning, driving and hour to the park to start hiking at 4:45 - alone, in the dark, alone, dark...alone. Mind you this was also the very trail that Daisy, Sarah and I encountered a bear a couple days back. So I set on my jolly way freezing cold, guided by the moon because it was so bright. I would walk a ways, then stop to see if I heard any movement in the bushes. Then keep on going, then stop. But it was actually one of the coolest things I've done. I've never heard silence so (I'm going to use the adjective silent here - I think it only appropriate) silent. And I got to watch the sun rise. And all the birds wake up. So I stayed on the trail for 5 miles, then veered off the trail into a boulder field. This is where it became tricky.
I tried to take the path of least resistance. That is, the path were I wouldn't get stuck in between two boulders or get stuck on top of a boulder with no where to go but to jump off, or step on the little boudlers and go sliding down hill. Unfortunately the path of least resistance was sort of down hill. So I proceeded down until I looked up, and realized what I had done. And with Tom Petty's "Oh my my, oh hell yes" song in my head (don't ask me why this song came to me this morning. I haven't listened to it in years, years I tell you) I had to remind myself to go up. I did the by saying out loud. Go up. And when I came to a cross roads of which way to go in the field, I said "up", and up I went. So I picked my way through the boulder field until I reached camp and the 3 merry men eating their breakfast.
We packed up camp, I put most of their stuff in my pack, and we headed back down the boulder field. It was much easier this way because Christian was picking the path, all I had to do was follow. So now I know exactly how the Sherpas feel when carrying people stuff up Mount Everst. I know all the emtions they go through, their physical exursion, and their devotion to the job. I know what it's like....
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4 comments:
two things: I just noticed on your blogger profile that you listed gabe dixon, amos lee and bela fleck as some of your favorite music... those all made me smile since we have some history behind those artists. I like to think of Amos's "Arms of a Woman" as our song...and I would like to thing that I am not alone in that idea. Anyway on to numero dos: If you were , let's just say hypothetically speaking, to have been gobbled up by a bear on that pre-dawn hike, would I have still gotten an etch-a-sketch in the mail?
was that wrong to ask?
It goes without saying that I would be devastated either way...you beat an etch-a-sketch any day!
Shelly probably wouldn't have gotten an etch-a-sketch in the mail because Laura's mother would have been shopping with a very heavy heart if her daughter had been eaten by a bear. Shelly would have gotten non-fun, useless, ugly things.
It is never wrong to ask or wonder about potential gifts or purely material things, even when a good friend has been eaten by a bear or moose. But there is happy shopping and unhappy shopping and an etch-a-sketch is usually a happy shopping destination.
But then I have to wonder if maybe an etch-a-sketch would perk us up if Laura had been something's meal.
In that case, Shelly would get one and maybe I would too, and other people. See, there is always a bright side to everything.
enjoying the beauty of synaptic chaos, as the prosaic description of your experience jumps so merrily to a childhood joy and to shopping excursions...all the while with undertones of morale about materials and positivie attitudes. and speaking of that, i will go from the meal jumping off place of this whole commentary and say that i finally finished the fine jar of honey-soynut-butter today, here at 'the fresh pot' coffee shop all day (i sort of felt like the sappy, i-am-a-sad-broken-heart-eating-nutbutter-all-alone girl, but, my indulgence was completely happy and no default), where i am getting around to all the things i kept meaning to do at your apt.
i like this whole blog thing. you write wonderfully. always have.
i am driving to sac either tomorrow or monday, can i call you from the road?
ps- i am dorkifying the entire city of portland... standard.
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