The Top of Texas

“Prayer doesn’t change God, it changes me.”

-- C. S. Lewis

High on the shoulder of Guadalupe Peak, the west Texas landscape stretches out like a dusty, rumpled quilt.  El Capitan, the dominant landmark from below, is almost unrecognizable from above, its cliffs forming a dramatic--and sudden--drop to the ridge I am climbing.  The summit is in sight beneath a cloudless blue sky; and for the first time, I know that we are going to reach it.  I feel the slightest breeze on my face.  My doubts and frustrations are gone.  My mind is calm, and I am at peace.  Mountains have a way of putting things in perspective.  As John Muir said, “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.”

I could stay here forever; but I hear the siren call of the summit, and my two sons; Will 21, and Clay 17, are almost there.  I push on slowly, for even though my heart still feels like it is 21; my knees and lungs know better. 

It is hard to imagine now, but this moment almost never happened.  Much more than a long, tough climb and creaky joints threatened it.  Just twenty-four hours ago, this climb was in danger of never starting because I had allowed life’s little dramas to build up to the boiling point.  Why is it always the little things?

                                            ------------------------

This was the second of what I hoped was becoming an annual “Guys Fall Break Trip,” a chance for us to escape into the wilderness for a few days, and reconnect with the outdoors and each other.  We drove from east Texas, arrived at the Pine Springs Campground in Guadalupe Mountains National Park, and managed to set up the tent while fighting the legendary Guadalupe Mountain winds.  About this time, things took a turn for the worse.  First, there was a misunderstanding with our neighbors.  I have found that the people I meet on the trail and in campgrounds are usually among the most friendly and easy-going people anywhere--but not this group.  Then, we discovered that the car was dead, and would not start even after jumping the battery for nearly an hour.  So with limited options, we made dinner in near hurricane conditions, and went to bed.

Frustration, anger, and doubts kept churning inside of me, and sleep was not possible: 

How am I going to start the car?  How much is it going to cost to tow it from out here in the middle of nowhere?  I still cannot believe those people in the next campsite.  There is no way we can climb the peak tomorrow!  Somehow, I have to fix the car.  Who knows how long it will take?  We have driven across the entire state of Texas just to spend two days and a small fortune in some garage!  Then we get to turn around and go home.  This trip is ruined; the boys will never want to do this again.  How many more chances do we have?

I had turned a little bad luck into a series of insurmountable problems, and I had let the negativity of others rub off on me.  I needed to get a grip.  I tried to pray, but I could not.  It is hard to ask for forgiveness when you do not want to forgive someone else.  I was focused on the negative.  I needed to focus on the positive.

By now, both boys were sound asleep; they don’t seem to be worried about it.  This was not affecting them as much as me.  I could learn from their example.  At least the car made it here and we aren’t stuck in a cheap motel in some tiny town.  The new tent is doing great in all this wind.  Hey!  The wind has died down.  We really don’t need a car for a few days.  We could walk to the trailhead, we are close enough, no need to drive…

“Lord, help me to forgive.  Forgive me for blowing things out of proportion.  Help me to focus on the positive.  I want so much for this to be a special time with the boys, one they will remember for the right reasons, and one they will want to continue.  That will never happen if I do not change my attitude.  This trip is in danger, but not from car trouble, or other people, but from me, and my attitude.  Help me to change that.  Amen.”

I awoke the next morning to an orange glow surrounding the tent.  I opened the tent flap to one of the most memorable sunrises of my life.  The Guadalupe Mountains rise abruptly out of the desert, and the Pine Springs Campground is perched about a mile up on the escarpment providing a nearly 180-degree panorama of the eastern horizon.  That horizon was now on fire; and soon a red-orange ball appeared suspended above the brightest part of the flames.  Even the boys; not early risers, agreed that it was worth waking up for.  After breakfast, we saw that our friends from last night had finished packing and were leaving.  Clay asked what we were going to do about the car.  “It’s Sunday.”  I replied, “We couldn’t get anybody to work on it, even if we wanted to.  We’re going hiking.”

                                            ----------------------

Climbing the remaining few yards to the summit, I join the boys who are already stretched out on the rocks in the sunshine.  The forests and mountains of southern New Mexico lay to the north.  White sand nestles against the base of the cliffs to the west, while miles and miles of Texas stretch as far as I can see to the east.  And aiming due south, like the prow of a gigantic ship, El Capitan rises out of the desert floor; the foothills appearing as so many waves on the ocean.  If this is a ship, then we are in the crow’s nest.

As we linger on the Top of Texas on this spectacular October day, a faint sound breaks the stillness.  Far away at first, it quickly builds in volume and intensity.  It is a familiar sound, but somehow different and I cannot place it.  The din echoes off the rocks, as if a large group of animals is heading our way.  That is impossible; we can see anything approaching for miles.  As the racket becomes almost deafening, Will shouts, “Look up!”  And there, silhouetted against the brilliant blue sky is the familiar “V” pattern of a flock of Canadian Geese headed south for the winter.  They are so close that it feels like we are a part of the formation.  A vivid reminder that there will not be many more days like this before the howling winter winds set in.

All too soon, it is time to leave, and Clay shoulders his pack for the trek down the mountain.  He has had it since his first hiking trip when he was much younger.  It is small and well worn.  He looks it over and says, “Ya know Dad, I think I need to get a new pack before our next trip.”