Day 9

The trial to the West Rib

We awoke to hazy sunshine and calm winds. Punches says he feels better, but still he’s going to stay in camp today. The other four on the team decided to hike up the West Rib a ways, just for the acclimitization. I stayed in camp. This was my chance for a little privacy and solitude. I meditated for the first time since I got here. It felt great. Meditation always helps to center me, to calm me down and return my awareness to what really matters. For the last ten years now, and especially since the diagnosis, my mission in life had been to heal. For me, this has meant following a spiritual path. That path has had plenty of twists, turns, and backsteps in it, yet there is no doubting the progress and the healing I’ve been blessed with. Mountain climbing, and this trip, too, are healing experiences for me. They celebrate the natural world and my aliveness in it. I thought of a poster with a picture of me on the summit and a caption that read, "I’m a cancer patient, and I did it anyway!" I think the folks at the cancer support group I occasionally attend would appreciate it. I tell myself that now that I’ve faced my own mortality I’m not afraid of dying. But right now I don’t think that’s true. Maybe I’ve got a bit more familiarity with the subject than most people, but I think when death gets in your face, most people, including me, will be afraid.

Usually the mountains get me out of these somber sorts of moods. Climbing has usually been a religious experience for me. I’ve even told people in the past, when they ask why I climb, that God lives on the top of mountains, and if you go there, you can see Him. In the past, the mountains have thrilled me. Filled me with enthusiasm and raised my self-esteem. If I was the kind of person who could climb mountains, I must be ok. That sort of thing. But now was different. What wasn’t I excited? I was enjoying the trip. The

Gleefully consuming the biscuits

fantastic surroundings, the good company of the team, and I was refreshed by my little bit of solitude. But where was the high? Where was the rush of the sense of achievement, the feeling of superiority? The pride in doing something that no "normal" person would do? I was changing inside. Into what I didn’t know.

I cooked biscuits and had them ready for the four hikers when they returned. They were consumed with eager enthusiasm. They were happy and excited. They felt they had performed well on their hike and were psyched to cache at 17 tomorrow.