Ascending Mount Langley: Reflections from the High Sierra - Part Four

Ascending Mount Langley: Reflections from the High Sierra - Part Four

By Armando Ortiz

Challenges Faced:

The descent was faster, but my body was also spent. The trail goes down the valley and meets a trail that takes you up to the pass. Earlier, I’d followed the ridge along the pass towards Old Army Pass. I’d be reaching the bottom and from that section gradually climb up to New Army Pass. It looked easier, which was more appealing by now, but it felt long. Watching my steps closely I noticed a small patch of green with tiny bursts of purple flowers which are known as showy sky pilots. There were still a few hours of light ahead of me. 

As I followed the trail I’d occasionally be greeted by the heads of sleek marmots, who’d just as quickly go back into their burrows. Reaching the intersection it signaled to make a left, and from there it began to gain elevation once again. This would be the last time it’d be going up. I’d just started the ascent and quickly stepped over sun bleached bones, most likely marmot. 

Keeping a timely pace, rocks started to get my attention. Some were a slightly pale green and gray or others were white like quarts. My gnarled hands reached for a small rock. Scanning my surroundings, I thought of the energy there. Dropping it back, and continuing my walk I resumed my rhythm pretending to be a drummer. The trekking poles made a steading tick tock sound helping me keep pace. 

Occasionally my body turned to see the progress being made. The pass kept getting closer with every step. A couple passed bye. We greeted each other. They were carrying twice as much gear, a sign of a multi day trip. One of them had a pair of dusty blue crocs dangling from their bag. We were all focused on our destinations.

As I continued climbing in elevation I began to think of the age of these mountains, and the rocks on my hands. I thought of life. Was it the mountain’s energy that gave me the courage to continue. Was it receiving the same from us? The forest and its ecosystems exist independent of us. Like the patch of flowers I’d come across that somehow thrives in high elevations. My eyes squinting from the glare of the sun, my face smiled at the thought that the earth has a frequency similar to the last syllable of the Buddhist chant, Om mani padme hum. The wind started to pick up, the pass just a few meters away. Reaching it, the air was dry, consistent, and refreshing. From now on it would all be downward to the car.