Guadalupe Peak

      Last Saturday, April 24th, our Iron Men group, and friends, hiked Guadalupe Peak again. We had thirteen in our group; ten stood on the summit. The other three made it past the bridge, a worthy achievement. We’d planned on 61* with 20 mph wind gusts, but we were blessed with weather much warmer and calmer. It was beautiful, all day.

      We arrived at Guadalupe Mountains National Park (GMNP) at 9:45 only to learn both the trailhead and visitor’s center parking lots at Pine Spring were full. The rangers directed us to the Butterfield Stage parking lot, about a mile hike on the Pinery Trail to the trailhead. I’ve heard high attendance is normal for national parks nowadays. People tired of being sequestered at home are visiting in droves. While GMNP is one of my favorite places, it is unusual for it to be so full. It’s too obscure and too remote. I can only imagine the crowds at other more popular and accessible national parks.

      Because my left ankle has been bothering me, I had no confidence of hiking all the way to the top and then back down, so I brought two books to read in case I turned around early and came down before the rest of our crew. However, I didn’t need them. I felt as good as ever. I never had to stop to catch my breath, my legs, foot, and ankle performed well. I never considered turning around at any of my predetermined places (the horse trail junction, the big turn, the bridge, etc.).

      Hiking to the top of a mountain can be a satisfying experience. There is a definite goal to achieve, and the goal is easy to evaluate. You know when to turn around and start back. Unfortunately, there’s no quick way to the top, no shortcuts, no secret passageways for the cool people, no chair lifts, or tramways. You can’t conquer the Peak by reading or studying or going to workshops; you must hike with your own two feet.

      A summit is an exclusive experience. It’s self-selecting. No one ends up on top of a mountain by accident or because they got lost. A hiker goes there on purpose - pays the price to get the view, to get the experience.

      Well, as it turns out, even though the first half of our day was one of my best ascents ever, the last two hours coming down were dismal. It’s during the descent when I feel my age. Without intending to, I’ve gotten more careful, more tentative, with each passing year. And more careful means hiking slower; I’m on my feet even longer. Even though I now have two after-market pain-free bionic knees (this was my 5th time at the summit with them), I still gingerly pick each step.

      As I hobbled down the trail, stumbling over the giant rock steps, I told myself this would be my last hike to the summit. Coming down is too hard. Twenty-three times to the top was enough for anyone. Of course, it’s possible I’ve had that very same thought and made the same never-again commitment on all my previous descents, so I can’t guarantee it’ll stick.

      If I didn’t have a busload of guys waiting on me there are plenty of times I would rest on a boulder and maybe even take a nap. But instead, I kept moving. My one single athletic skill is perseverance.

      Hours later, once we were all off the mountain, settled in for the long drive back to Midland, the bus was filled with a buzz of stories, scars, photo sharing, and hearts joining together. That part of the trip always makes me happy. Maybe it isn’t the trail itself that makes men brothers as much as the bus ride home. Once a guy spends that sort of time with friends it changes all their future conversations

      I’m blessed to have these men in my life; guys who will hike with me, who will wait for me without complaining, who believe in me and listen to what I say. I never take for granted the valiant men God has entrusted to me.

      I prayed: Thank You for keeping us safe today, thank You for giving us the desire and ability to do this, and most of all, thank You for giving us one more turn.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32