Trinities in the Spring

“When God closes a door, he opens a window.” Just about the time I realized that my lone Eureka friend was the reason for my sour moods, Matt’s office accepted two new forecasters. One of them came with a wife. She works her summers as a park ranger. Can you say perfect?

Of the hiking adventure friends that I’ve had, I find that they fall into two main categories:
Endurance Athlete : can’t even be considered a hiker. They like to cover 25+ miles a day. The focus is getting a good workout.

Stop-And-Smell-The-Flowers Hiker : who moves at a much slower pace, taking time to examine the scenery, covering less than 10 miles a day.


I fall into the latter category. To me, it’s not all about seeing it all. I like to soak in the scenery , the breeze, the fresh air---not to mention take a billion photos in the process. Sometimes, I’m content to hike a few miles to a really pretty spot and set up camp there for two days—completely abandoning the remainder of the planned hike.

The two groups don’t make for harmonious adventures when mixed together, so I’m always apprehensive about asking a new friend on a trip until I’m sure which category they fall into.

Matt left last Monday for a training seminar in Kansas. After divvying up the rollers and cameras, he decided to take the laptop with my photo editing software (why I’m behind on my blogging) I’m much more outgoing when he’s not around, just because I need SOME interaction besides my Monday night band rehearsal. Before I knew it, I was inviting Shaina, the wife of one of the new guys, on a backpacking trip into the Trinities. We planned to do the same hike as Matt and I had done the month prior. This time we were expecting a snow-free hike. She asked to borrow some gear since she was still living in temporary housing and only had the things she brought in the car with her on the move from South Carolina. Then we were off.

The trip started slowly, with my forgetful self not sure whether I turned the tea pot off on the stove before we left town. After a quick trip home to ensure that my house wouldn’t burn down because of a tea kettle, we were on our way. It was 65 at the trail head and perfectly sunny. I strapped on my backpack over a short sleeved shirt and couldn’t remember the last time that I had backpacked in short sleeves! I enjoyed how different the scenery appeared in just one month’s time.



It was also my first backpacking trip without Matt. He usually helps me put the pack on and take it off (among other things). It was hard not to miss his company. A couple of miles in, we hit our first snow field. It was the decaying remnants of an avalanche. Shaina approached it with skepticism. She watched me cross each snow field before attempting it herself, almost as if she was seeing if I would fall down the hill.



After successfully crossing every tricky spot, she laughed a small giggle to herself, surprised that she made it across alive. By 6pm, it was beginning to get dark. We decided to set up camp at the exact spot that Matt and I had just the month prior.





Without the blanket of snow, a jagged landscape presented itself with large boulders and granite cliffs. We decided to climb up the stream to a waterfall for photos. After we got there, I cautiously climbed up the steeper face, skirting the edge along a mossy trail. I had to see what was on top. The moss squirted out streams of water as I trod upon it.



When I finally got to the top and turned to descend, I noticed that Shaina hadn’t followed me. She sat perched on a lower spot, watching my descent. I got to a now-slippery spot, moistened by the water that the moss had lost. I couldn’t get my footing. I gently tossed the camera to a ledge nearby to pick up on my way through. It tumbled off the cliff. Luckily, Shaina caught it on the way down.

I sunk my fingers into the saturated moss and lowered myself down the rocks, using all the upper body strength I could muster with just one good arm to rely upon. I was stupid for trying to do something so dangerous. My hands trembled as I reached level footing. Sometimes I forget that my strength isn’t nearly what it used to be pre-cancer (and full use of my left arm). Thinking back on the incident I realized, Matt is usually my voice of reason and would never have let me go up that high. Note to self, always bring strong heroic husband along to save me from slippery situations.

I went to bed that night snuggling my bottle of warm water.

The next morning, after a typically crappy night’s sleep on the ground, I awoke with stiffness from head to toe. I shook out the discomfort as I searched for our food bag in the trees. We had oatmeal for breakfast (I found that the instant stuff isn’t bad when it’s flavored!!) and headed out. Shaina told me all about her husband’s fear of hiking and how he’d never attempt a trip like this. She is a bit more adventurous and was glad I took her on the trip with me. I’m afraid of the dark, so I would never have done this trip alone. I’d gained a new friend and a new set of personal rock climbing limits. I didn’t learn until afterward that it was her first backpacking trip EVER!