Several times through t he night the near full moon awakened me with a false dawn. Thankfully, when my alarm awoke me I was well rested enough for my planned morning hike. With sunrise I arose from tent, greeded with dazzling colors.
As I started up the trail, my body still waking up, I questioned my ambitious hiking plans - 8.4 miles round trip, with 3,000 feet of elevation gain/loss in under 4 hours. Ascending the switchbacks of the visible face I slowly settled into a reasonable pace and began to appreciate my surroundings. A handful of deciduous trees growing along the stream bed had turned vibrant reds. They stood out brightly amidst the greens and browns of the desert. The cacti and yucca studded desert held its own splendor as it unfolded across the plains below me. Rocks along the trail were pained with vibrant purple scat of ringtail cats.
As I journeyed into the wilderness I moved upward in elevation and through changing vegetation. My approach to the lower treeline occurred as I wound around the face of the mountain visible from the campground, and was greeted with several false peaks reaching into the distance.
My first reaction was disappointment and some trepidation. the highest peak I could see looks unreachable far away and I do not relish long, exposed ridgeline hiking in windy conditions.
As I continued onwards, I discovered that the trail stays off the ridgeline, staying protected from the wind and following an easy grade upwards. I feel the universe teach and remind me - obstacles in view aren't necessarily what they seem. Throughout my hike upwards I repeat this experience, observing my gut emotional reactions to discovering yet again that the peak is further away than I thought.
Eventually I reach the summit, but misread a sign that veers me off trail just before surmounting the final rocky to pof the peak. Quickly I determine that the brambles and rock scrambling that lay between me and the actual summit are not something I want to traverse, even if they are the only way up. Reading the signs around me, I listen to myself instead of becoming summit-driven. Again I see life parallels.
Back on trail I quickly hike to the summit and stand on the highest point in Texas. The landscape below me unfolds with different textures in different directions. Salt flats, cacti, and shorter mountains all lay before me.
Exactly at my turn around time and almost at my turn around water level, I head down the trail. The easy grade allows quick travel downwards. the increasing winds and human traffic make me grateful for my early morning ascent. As I retrace my steps and eventually return to the campground, I fell that I am leaving the real world instead of returning to it.
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