Mount of the Holy Cross and the Voice of God.

It was two days ago that I and a few friends reached the summit of Mt of the Holy Cross. (14,005 ft)  Since then, I can't stop thinking about it. Physically, the toughest thing I've ever done. Sure, we could have done an easy 14'er... but what sense of accomplishment would we experience if we didn't push it?

We pushed it. Hind sight, I think we bit off a huge chunk for our lack of experience. Safety wasn't the issue. We did all the right stuff. But personally, I could have planned better. How I packed. How I trained. (You can't eat beef jerky when breathing 30+ times a minute with a pulse of 150.) We trekked 11 miles. We climbed 5,627 vertical feet. We actually set out to do the Half Moon trail ascent and the Halo Ridge descent. The planned route was about 13 miles and included reaching summit on four 13'ers after Mt. of the Holy Cross.  (We discussed our plans with some Colorado natives on the way up. "Wow! Don't mess with them Oklahoma boys!" He says...) But, our plans... changed.

We were about to ascend our second peak... (Unnamed peak 13,831.) This would be a point of no return. But just moments before we started our push for the summit, a long roll of thunder cracked through the sky. There had been thick clouds building on the south side of the ridge. Our route. The ridge included the four peaks of >13,000 and over 2 miles of scrambling on talus rock, void of any true trail. After the thunder I had a strong sense of caution that we should change routes and back track to Half Moon and go down the way we came. Subjecting yourself to lightening above the tree line is not a good scenario. Maintain healthy regard for nature's power.

There wasn't another lightning strike for over 2 hours. From a weather perspective, we would have been fine. But looking back, I see the hand of God, my father, guiding me. I had for some time experienced a mild dull headache and nausea. It was mild. Easily overshadowed by the excitement of accomplishment and beauty... I failed to even consider that I was beginning to suffer from altitude sickness. From the point of our turn around, we stayed at our current elevation for about an hour and then descended. I was lagging behind a bit while going downhill. But when we hit East Cross Creek, we had to climb 1000 vertical feet. This is where altitude sickness was painfully evident. Any time my heart rate increased, I felt like I was going to throw up, pass out, and collapse. I just physically couldn't do any more. Yet, I still tried to minimize my symptoms. "I didn't get enough sodium." "Maybe its just a migraine."

My trustworthy hiking companions gave me no flack. I could only hike about 20 yards at a time while going up hill. The 1,000 foot ascent seemed to take forever. By this time, there was rain... and lightning. I was glad to be below the tree line. I was glad that that solitary lightning strike two hours ago guided us to turn around just before the point of no return. How bad would have the altitude sickness have become if I summitted four 13'ers? Would I have made it? It truly felt like it took everything in me just to make it back as it was. Both Eric and I had the same thought independently. God had directed our path. He spoke through the thunder!

Now, two days later... I still can't stop thinking about it. During my first quiet moment to myself since then, I was hit with a wave of awe. Gratitude. Love. God... my God... my heavenly Father was with me... He spoke! He guided! I did all I could do to prepare and be safe. He did all that I could not do. He looked into the future and guided me. He spoke to Eric and guided him in cooperation. Tears of joy filled my eyes as I experienced love from a personal God. I called out praises to his name! I couldn't stand upright. I was too emotional.

"My God! you are my God! I want to walk where you lead! Lead me into your will. Guide my paths! Amen!"

David