Keep Them Safe

I will blog this full hike later, but this is a reflection of Profile Trail and my hindsight to better prepare me and anyone with me for future hikes.

As a hiker, I am an obsessed planner, a perfectionist, and a dreamer. I dream of the next challenge like a little girl dreams of her wedding day, naively believing everything will always go as planned. On “big” hikes, I study the trails; every switchback, junction, and mile marker, to mentally prepare myself for the sections that will be challenging for my team and me. I choose my companions according to their ability, experience, and comfort level. Until this weekend, I have been proud of my preparation skills. After hiking Profile Trail to Calloway Peak and Grandfather Mountain, my confidence is shaken, and I cannot comprehend how I underestimated this hike so carelessly.

There were scrambles, ladders, bouldering maneuvers, switchbacks, and exposed ridges on this hike. It sounded like the typical "Kimberly" challenge, and I was excited to give it a go.

I knew exactly who I wanted with me. Without question, Ethan would conquer this trail by my side. He can do anything I can do, but better. Rene, my partner on Old Rag and a moderately experienced hiker, with her unwavering support and words of wisdom that drive me to the top of every mountain I climb. Her husband Nick, a strong and capable man with a "go-getter" attitude and a positive outlook on life, was her anchor and a perfect addition to our team. Josh, one of my best and loyal friends, with his laid back personality and ability to read my cues without having to speak a word, made up the final member of our Grandfather Mountain team.

We hiked to Calloway Peak from the Profile Trailhead and proceeded down the Daniel Boone trail before backtracking to the Profile Trail and Grandfather Trail junction. We were tired, and we had a choice to make; continue on to the Mile High Swinging Bridge another 1.9 miles down the path, or turn toward the Profile Trail trailhead and call it a day. If we went to the Swinging Bridge, we knew we would have to return the same way. Did we have enough energy to complete this hike without getting injured or worse?

So, this is where my reflection begins...

I had a capable team of five people, some of the best and most reliable members I would have wanted on a hike of this magnitude. Given our status at the junction, I KNEW we should have turned back toward the trailhead. I KNEW we were tiring out by the minute. I KNEW we had a challenging hike back to the car, but I CHOSE to keep going. Although they agreed to continue, I felt responsible as the most experienced hiker on the team, AND the hike had been my idea; my dream. I CHOSE my desire for a challenge over the safety and well being of my friends; a decision that could have ended with dire consequences.

As we continued, the trail threw curveballs I wasn't prepared to hit. Every time I thought we had crossed, climbed, or scrambled up the hardest boulders, there were more waiting around the bend. The group rarely complained, but the weariness was impossible for them to hide. At the peak of our exhaustion, we reached a ravine, I don't know the elevation drop, but impressive enough to stop me in my tracks. I said, "this cannot be the trail. No way could it go down all of that." I was wrong. The blue blaze painted on the rock 50 feet below us marked the path before us.

I couldn't apologize. There were no words for the guilt I was holding for getting them in over our heads. Fatigue had taken over, and we were struggling with every step and technical maneuver. "Drink more water, down a Gatorade, eat a snack, and rest," was the only advice I had. We would NEVER make it back to Profile Trail trailhead by dark.

After the ravine, Rene fell face first on a boulder, Josh was struggling with muscle fatigue in his thigh, Ethan was having trouble with his feet, and I fell and rolled my ankle. Nick was the only one on the team who did not lose his footing. The trail wasn't causing us to make mistakes, the overwhelming fatigue was preventing our muscles from functioning correctly. We had a little over a mile to go to the Swinging Bridge, and I had a gut feeling we were in trouble, but I did not relay my concerns to my companions. Josh was the genius, and in one sentence, he lit a fire under my tired feet, "when we get to the bridge, we are calling a taxi."

Needless to say, we ended our hike at the Mile High Swinging Bridge, and I learned an invaluable lesson in hiking and friendship. The four companions who accompanied me up to the mountain that day are some of the most important and influential people in my life. Nothing is worth risking them, and I am grateful no one was injured. Ethan was, by far, the youngest on our adventure and the most capable of completing the entire circuit. But he was also struggling with exhaustion by the end of the 10-mile journey.

I will never underestimate another difficult rating on a trail, and I will never follow my head when my body and the body language of those around me screams, "no." I felt as though four people placed their faith in me on Saturday, aware of their own limits, but trusting my ability to read and navigate a trail within our level of expertise. I feel I failed them, I think my overly ambitious goal was too much. I want to hike with them again, I want to tackle another challenge, and I want them to love it. Although we walked away with only sore muscles, a few bruises, and a couple of drops of blood, my confidence is shaken. I can only think of how much worse this could have been. I have had nightmares the last two nights of alternate endings of “what could have been.”

No one on that hike blames me, and perhaps it is my ego that is carrying all the guilt. All of my friends wish to hike again, and they have reason to be proud of their accomplishments on Grandfather Mountain. For all the hikes I have done, Grandfather Mountain is the hardest for its infinite amounts of bouldering and scrambling, and they handled all the challenges better than most. I am pleased we finished the point to point, but I wish I had been better prepared.

There will be a continuation of this reflection, I am sure. This is weighing on my mind way too much to release the guilt here, but I will write it out, figure it out, and think it out.