I've Got You

This weekend I went climbing. As in, up a mountain. You may recall that I'm from Ohio, where the highest point in the state is in Bellefontain; 1549 feet. Here in Quito I trudge back up the hill to my apartment each day, and a height of over 9000 feet. The top of Mt Rucu (which I have yet to see personally) is 15.500 feet.

Since I've lived here I've often thought that the altitude gives me a small idea of what it must be like to be asthmatic. And yesterday, while struggling to keep going up to Rucu I think I got an idea of what an asthma attack might be like. My fingernails turned blue; I gasped for every breath, even while taking breaks in redicuously short intervals. There was nothing to do but keep going. Keep stepping. Keep gasping for air.

(side note: It is newly my opinion that people who are out of shape shouldn't try to climb mountains)

The climb itself, outside of my cardio-vascular-unpreparedness, was pretty easy for a long time. It wasn't until we wound our way around to the highest peak that I started to have any concern about safety. Before you get to the skree (a new word for me- it's an area of loose rock, and in this case, it's pretty steep. You have to switchback your way up it, sliding down a step for every two up) the path winds around the mountain, with a pretty steep drop off. For awhile, even with the drop-off it was pretty easy; I was even in the lead of our group of four when the path ended. I mean, we're traipsing along and suddenly the path stops. So I stopped. "Hmm," I said. "It seems the path is gone now..." We traded places and our leader took the lead. From that point until we turned back there was much less walking and much more climbing. Lots of precise foot-placing, coaching, and helping.

Whether I was dealing with dizziness from the lack of oxygen, or if it was from being so far up with the big drop looming on the right, I'm not sure. I do know that I didn't feel nearly as sure-footed as normal, and I found it a little ironic, since being on the side of a mountain is a good time to be sure-footed. We kept on, over rocks and mud and old rockslides. After awhile we stopped for some lunch. I mentioned that I wasn't feeling hungry (which pretty much never happens to me :) ) and that scared the rest of the group. Apparently that's another symptom of the dreaded altitude sickness. The only cure for altitude sickness is to go down. It's a big deal here. But we decided to eat and see how I felt afterward, and then decide whether to keep going.

After lunch, as snow-ball-sleet stuff started bouncing off of our bodies, one of the others decided she wasn't feeling well, and she thought we should turn around. I was disappointed to face the reality of not making it to the top, but also really relieved to start going down. So in the sleet, we turned around and started picking our way back down.

At several points in the return trip, the two men in our group helped hand us down in steep and slippery places. There was a time that we were going down a little wall of rock, maybe 5 feet high. The sleet had stopped, but the rocks were wet, and my shoes were muddy and I was feeling a little stressed about the huge drop-off that started about 2 feet behind me. The guy at the top took my pole from me and offered me his hand. We grabbed each others' wrists, and as I started down he said to me, "You're ok; I've got you."

"You're ok; I've got you." Simple words to remind me that I wasn't alone. I wasn't strong or smart or experienced enough to do it myself. But that didn't matter, because I was with someone who was.

I love living here. I love my job, I have great roommates and new friendships with lots of promise. But sometimes I feel very much like I'm alone. There are lots of people who would help me if I needed it, and I am really thankful for those people. But no one is looking out for me. No one checks in on me each day or night. I'm an independant person and I enjoy the freedom that comes with that. But sometimes it's good to be reminded that someone else has got me. God's got me. He knows when I lie down and when I rise. He knows when I can't sleep and when my students are making me crazy and when I miss my family so much that it hurts. And He's got me. He is stronger, smarter, more experienced. Everything -er than me. And I'm not alone here in Quito. Even without my coworkers and roommates and students, I'm not alone. I know.

Sometimes it's good to be reminded by someone with skin.

The first picture is taken by a cement thing that marks a point higher than any place in the continental US. In the background you can see the mountaintop disappearing into the clouds.

The second picture is as much of the peak as I got to see. Those of the group who made it all the way up reported that the clouds kept them from seeing the awesome view. In our group we mentioned that it reminded us of Moriah from Lord of the Rings.