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I looked up from our base camp on
Mt.
Shasta and saw that the heavens were almost white, so filled
with stars.? Our party was alone except for a single tent
perched on the snow nearby.? Its occupant was a young man
about twenty-two years old.
Occasionally, I glanced over and saw him packing his daypack
for the next morning's climb.? First he put in a small box,
then two bottles and a lunch.? He saw me staring and waved.?
I returned the greeting and got busy with my own
preparations.
The next morning, the sun greeted the crisp dawn.? After
breakfast, my
companions and I eagerly started our ascent.? I went into my
slow, steady trudge, trailing the others.
After a little while, the young man from base camp drew
beside me and asked if it was okay to hike along.? I
hesitated.? I really didn't want any company.? Besides, I
noticed that he limped; and I wasn't certain whether he
could reach the top.? I didn't want to abort my attempt at
the summit to aid him.
"I'm glad for the company," I replied, in spite of my
misgivings.
His name was Walt, and he told me that it was his third
attempt to reach the top.
"When I was about twelve," he explained, "my father brought
me here and we started up, but the weather got bad, and we
were forced to turn back."
Pausing, he smiled proudly.? "Dad was a great outdoorsman
and a wonderful climber."
We traversed for a short way in silence before Walt
continued.
"I was born with a problem with my left leg, so I've always
had trouble
walking and running.? But Dad refused to let that keep me
back.? When I was just a tiny kid, he used to take me into
the Sierra to teach me to fish.? I remember the first time I
baited my own hook and hauled in a trout.? He insisted that
I clean it myself.? It was the best fish I ever tasted."
We stopped by the side of the trail to put on our crampons.?
As we moved higher, he carried on with his story.
"When I got to be about nine, Dad started taking me into the
mountains.?
Gradually, my leg became stronger, and eventually I could
keep up with him.? Last summer he called and asked if I
would like to try for the summit again.? We hadn't seen much
of each other since my parents' divorce, and I jumped at the
chance to be with him."
Walt looked down toward our base camp.
"We camped where you saw my tent.? Neither of us was really
in a hurry to climb.? We just wanted to be together and
catch up on the years we had missed.? He told me that all he
ever wanted was to live with his family and grow old among
his children and grandchildren.? Dad had long silent spells,
and there was a sad aura about him."
I spoke little.? I was trying to save my breath for the
steeper incline. ? As we climbed higher, Walt kicked the
steps, making my work easier.? We came to a steep chute,
narrow and icy, and it seemed to me that his limp was hardly
noticeable.
"Why don't you lead?" he asked.? "I remember that rocks tend
to break away here, and I'd hate to knock one loose and have
it hit you."
Ten minutes later, we stopped for a rest.? By then I knew he
was all of
twenty-one, married and had a three-month-old son.
"My father and I got this far last time when I became ill
from the altitude and my leg buckled under me.? The pain got
so bad, I couldn't go on.? Dad hoisted me onto his back and,
somehow, he brought us both into camp before getting help.?
The search and rescue team carried me to the hospital.? Dad
and I promised each other that we would try again."
Then Walt looked down and squeezed back a tear.? "But we
never got to do it.? He died last month."
After a solemn moment, we trekked onward, and just below the
summit, we
rested again on a small rock outcropping.? The sky blazed
blue, and I could see at least 180 degrees to eternity.? The
sun was high, and its rays warmed me as I ate some trail
food
A few feet away, Walt sat on a boulder holding in both hands
the box he had packed the night before.? He whispered,
"We're going to make it this time.? You carried me last
time, and now it's my turn to carry you."
At that point, Walt rose abruptly, and with no further word
he headed to the peak.? I stared into his face as he strode
past me.? He seemed to be in a trance with an almost
beatific smile lighting his face.? I followed.
Finally, he reached the top.? I was only a few steps behind.
Carefully, Walt knelt on the snow, reached into his pack and
reverently removed the box.? Then, after digging a hole
about fifteen inches deep and attentively pouring some of
his father's ashes into it, he covered the hole and built a
small stone cairn over it.
When he stood up, he faced north, then east, south and
west.? Turning his body toward each direction once again, he
reached into the box and gently sprinkled some ashes to each
compass point.
Walt's face was painted with joy and triumph behind a rush
of tears.? He flung the last of the remains into the wind
and shouted, "We made it, Dad, we made it!? Rest on our
mountaintop.? I promise I'll be back when your grandson can
meet you here."
______________________________
Reprinted by permission of Mel Lees (c) 1997 from Chicken
Soup for the Nature Lover's Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark
Victor Hansen and Steve Zikman.? In order to protect the
rights of the copyright holder, no portion of this
publication may be reproduced without prior written
consent.? All rights reserved.
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Blessings to you today
Bob Johnston
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