Dusk: The Hut Trip (3)

The light from Josh's headlight was small and far away and up, so far up. The tiny tears in my eyes were immediate.

When that blue bouncing light disappeared beyond the trees and up the path, that was when the blizzard came, suddenly snowing from all sides, and even above the roar I could hear all the ghastly winter beasts approaching, and through the white storm sky I saw the stars blink out one by one-- I tried to scream but I gasped instead and all the freezing snowflakes filled me, my lungs, my mouth, freezing my core and my eyes hard as diamonds looking their last for the blue bouncing light that would never come back--

The blue light did fade, but just fifty more paces, stop, breathe, curse aloud. Despite my dread, the only real result was the pack on my shoulders weighed down even more by the frustration to at least catch up to my group. And thankfully the stars remained firm in their night posts, because when I did stop to regain my breath, I had only to tilt my head and wonder.

The stars were so many and so bright that the sky seemed naked. By climbing to this altitude, the night had peeled away layers of darkness so I could see even further into time. I felt shy before it; it was unabashed.

A faulty snowshoe in the group did allow me to temporarily catch up, but this time I didn't mind falling behind again. There was no choice. If I didn't stop to breathe, I couldn't keep hiking. But before I fell too far behind again, Haley's father Michael skied down to us, as promised.

He had reached the hut earlier, started the snow melting on the stove, and waited for the first group to arrive and take over. He told us the hut was only about 2/3 of a mile away and that it would only be another half hour. I immediately (and correctly) doubted this, as we were moving so slowly, but my attention was devoted to lightening my pack. Michael took my bed roll, a few jars of food, and the inflatable sled. This probably only took off about 7 pounds of weight, but the difference was unbelievable. I thanked him again and again and in my mind I called him every nice name I could create.

I once again caught up with the other three, feeling myself gliding on the snow, compared to my former pace. The whole world seemed lighter! Unfortunately, Haley's snowshoe was worse than ever now and Josh was feeling the very beginnings of altitude sickness, mixed no doubt with exhaustion. Here, the group shifted again: Haley dropped behind with Michael helping her, Dara pulled ahead and did not stop until she reached the hut, and I continued with Josh, sharing a headlight and making very frequent stops. The remainder of the hike was indeed longer than a half hour, but finally I caught the glimmer of the blue diamond on a post. This meant to turn right and the hut would be just yards away! I urged Josh to just make it a little farther, we were almost there.

I reached the post and followed the path to the right, and soon before me was the hut, under a thick shell of snow. There were figures in the windows, swimming in candlelight. I felt like a ghost hiker, dreamily staring at what could have been, if only I hadn't fallen off the trail and broken all the most necessary bones. But the feeling didn't last, I was unclicking my gear and Josh's, flinging open the door with giddy, joyous, triumphant laughter! All the well-worn mountain natives might not have been tested in the way we were that day, but I did not receive one strange look-- the lunacy of accomplishment in nature was known to everyone in the room.

Those who had reached the cabin were warm and settled, and they ushered us into their fold. The large room was a common area with benches and tables, two wood burning stoves, and a wide kitchen. Snow was melting for our hot water, folks were beginning to cook the food we brought, and more hikers arrived and were welcomed.

I stripped my outer layers and sipped hot orange gatorade, the most delicious, comforting, and bizarrely restoring potion I'd ever consumed. Despite the lingering pain, the smile had not left my face. Josh stood outside and freed his dizzy stomach, a gruesome black on the snow blanket. Haley arrived finally, cheerfully trying to ignore her own altitude sickness. Dara set to work preparing food- the prevailing activity in the hut at all times.

I tried to envision this moment ever since I bought my ticket to Vail, and not one of my imaginings came close to this feeling of what I can only call peace. I settled into my exhaustion and exhilaration, introducing myself to a new part of me. I saw my friends, as they did the same, crafting a new extension of themselves that climbed snowy mountains to sleep in huts. "Yes, now we do this," we thought. The mountain made everything else we did after inevitably easier, surmountable-- and us victorious, in our way. We were all there, we had done it. On the first day of the new year, we were finally at the hut and the hike was over.

How can it be over? I feel it now.