Mountains and Men

"I worried about rain and I worried about lightning
But I watched them off, to the light of the morning
Marking the slope, slung low in the highlands."
 - 00000 Million, by Bon Iver 



When my alarm went off at 7:00, it sounded strange. "What is that?" I thought, still so immersed in deep sleep and dreams that it felt as though I were climbing upwards towards the sound until it became distinct and real. I had slept poorly that night, thoughts which hailed themselves as important jerking me awake at what felt like every hour. I get that way before a race, or before Christmas; my mind knows something important is coming and runs through everything I could potentially forget.

I arrived at Casa Gabriel at 8:00 to cook the boys breakfast. You see, it wasn't just an ordinary Monday, it was Carnaval, a vacation day. To celebrate, we had decided to climb a mountain. The city of Quito rests on the side of Mount Pichincha. Even on a very clear day, it is difficult to see the peak, so I knew it would be a challenging climb. The evening before, I made twenty ham and cheese sandwiches and bought other snacks. However a normal Ecuadorian lunch is much more filling (soup, rice, meat, vegetables, and fruit juice), whereas breakfast may consist of a simple roll. So I decided to make them eggs and sausages, filling them with protein before the hike.

As I cooked, the boys passed in and out of the kitchen, watching me curiously and asking questions about the day. When we finally sat down to eat (because I forgot that cooking a batch of 40 scrambled eggs is much more time consuming than making a couple just for myself), I picked up my glass for a sip of juice and found that my hand was shaking. It's one of my tells: when I have a dozen things running through my head, checklists and responsibilities, I usually manage to keep cool and calm, yet if there's a moment of rest in the middle of the rush, my hands shake. I gripped the glass tightly, set it down and asked one of the boys to say grace.

When I finished eating, I got up and arranged the food that each person would take. Water, Gatorade, two sandwiches, an apple, a granola bar, plantain chips, and two packages of sandwich cookies. The boys watched me arranging everything in a neat row on the pool table. Finally we were all packed up and ready to head out. I asked the weekend house-dad Edgar if he'd pray before we left. I was in charge of six boys that day. When I had volunteered to take them hiking, I hadn't given a second thought to being the leader. It crossed my mind then, as we stood together with heads bowed, what a privilege it was to be trusted like that, an honor to be the one they'd look to to get them there and back safely. I was thankful that among the boys were two I highly trusted to help me in leadership: Carlos, who was the current house leader, and Jesus, who had graduated two years before and was a natural leader. I gave Jesus money for a taxi and we split into two groups, driving up to the cable cars which would take us to the start of the hike.

I paid everyone's fee for the cable cars and up we went. The day was cloudy and cold, even more so up on the mountain, of course. When I offered up three extra pairs of gloves and a hat I'd brought along, the boys quickly snatched them up. We set off into the mist. Within fifteen minutes of hiking uphill in the cold, we were all breathing heavily. We were surrounded by clouds.

In a humorous voice, Carlos mumbled, "Go on an enjoyable hike, they said. See the beautiful views of Quito, they said." We all laughed. I had been up there on clear days and the view was incredible. That day, however, I looked to my right and saw the mountain drop off into nothing but pure white cloud. It was both eerie and gorgeous. I had the strange desire to take a running leap over the edge, imagining that I would fall through the white for ages before somehow coming to a soft landing.

We ended up hiking in two groups, a fast one and a slower one, with myself in the middle to call to the fast group to wait for the others, trying to keep us all together. At one point, I caught up to the first group and waited for the second one, calling out to them and finally hearing Jesus call my name yet being unable to see him.
"Where are you?" I called, scanning the horizon.
"Here!" he called, yet it was still a couple of minutes before I could see him and others sitting on an outcrop of rocks, waving yet appearing like mere ghosts in the mist.

In front of us, at one point, power lines hummed above us, dipping down from the mountain and on into the valley below. You could hear them before you could see them: crackling evenly in the mist. It was somehow both unnerving and fascinating at once, part of the strange magic of that day.

We reached what is called The Cave, a space which just barely gives shelter from the elements. In this case, the elements included a light flurry of wet snow. We sat and ate and to my surprise, the boys voiced the opinion that it was time to turn around and go back.
"Look at my pants! These aren't warm enough. I'm going to die!" Joel exaggerated.
"Come on guys! We've made it this far! We can do it!" I encouraged. "Though if you really want to go back, we can."
We went back and forth, finally deciding to break into two groups: Joel, Moises, and Paulo would head back with Jesus, and Carlos and Luis would press on with me. So off we went, snow falling gently around us.

About twenty minutes later, I was greatly second-guessing my decision.

The snow was falling harder and wetter, gathering in tiny drifts along the path, which was growing steeper. Instead of following an earthen path, we were climbing up sharp rocks, pulling ourselves upwards with carefully placed hands and feet. My pack felt like lead on my back, and in truth it was the heaviest of all: I carried extra water and snacks, plus first-aid items, a flashlight, and other things I thought good to bring.
"It's getting pretty slippery and hard to see. Maybe we should turn back," I told the boys.
"We are fine either way. We're your bodyguards: you decide," Carlos told me, Luis nodding along. I smiled and nodded to the path for us to continue on. I love those guys so much.

Eventually, though, I made the call for us to turn back. The path, if you could call it that, was very steep and slippery in the snow. Plus the further we went, the longer the others would be waiting for us. So we turned around and headed back.

Almost immediately, I slipped and fell in the slushy snow and mud. I kept falling and falling, both on my butt and my hands, so that I was quickly covered in patches of mud. Yet almost as soon as we had turned back, the sun broke through the clouds. Suddenly, we could see parts of Quito running down into the valley. Of course, the bits of sunshine also meant that the snow was melting and making the trails even sloppier. Every step had to measured carefully.

During the walk through the clouds, I had Harry Potter in my head, with visions of the fictional castle rising through the mist. With the appearance of the sun, the mountain trail became much more Lord Of The Rings, the Howard Shore soundtrack playing in my mind. I'm a nerd and I embrace it, because even though I was wet and cold and covered in mud, I was also in literary heaven. That's the dream. Carlos laughingly agreed.

All through the hike, little Luis surprised me more than anyone. At age fifteen he's the youngest in the home, and has a reputation as a couch potato. He refuses to play soccer or do rock climbing with the other boys, instead preferring to be on his phone and lying in front of the TV at every opportunity. Yet on this adventure it was Luis who took the lead and volunteered to keep going with Carlos and I. On the trek back, Luis would search out a different trail from the one we were on, scampering ahead on a side path and meeting up with Carlos and I later with a grin. It was great to see a new side of him.

Back together once more, we took the cable cars down the mountain and got coffee and hot chocolate in a small cafe, warming up. We hadn't completely conquered Mount Pichincha, but we'd gotten close. The boys were tired but happy. Maybe one day we'll try once more to make it all the way to the top and see the volcanic crater at the peak. For now, we'll have the memory of hiking through clouds and snow, and returning home muddy and tired and happy. No one was hurt or hungry or regretted going, and as I sipped my coffee, my hands no longer shook.