….To Girls Who Want To Go To Mars
Just before winter set in and Fall still beckoned, I got ensnared by the idea of experiencing fall colors. Since 3000 miles from the West to East to witness the fiery red and orange seemed a little too exorbitant; I decided to settle for 1200 miles and bright yellow aspens in Colorado.
As I devoured the internet’s recommendations about best fall color spots — I realized that I did not just want to see the colors, I wanted to smell it too — and feel it on my skin. And what better way to do it than a hike — so I decided to hike the Barr trail to the top of Pike’s peak.
There was a little problem. I had decided to take the trip in less than a weeks’ time, right before winter. Barr trail was 26.2 miles roundtrip, Pike’s Peak was at the elevation of 14,115 ft. And, I had not trained!
I had never attempted anything as strenuous before and I had never attempted anything like this all alone. But I wanted to go. I really wanted to go. I made a pact — to ask my body at every difficult mile — if she could go forward or if she would want to turn back. I knew I could trust myself to trace my steps back, if needed.
Luckily, Pike’s Peak boasts of the highest cog railway in the world and luckily, Barr Trail has a no-frill base camp called Barr camp at 10,000 ft — freezing cold with eco-toilets; stark and beautiful with its 1960s edition of national geographic, a spring from which you can filter water. A world-class triathlete for host who whips up vegetarian and organic hot food and lots of interesting people halting for the night — some solo hikers; some of who were surprisingly alive after many of their misadventures. 70 year old retirees who loved to hike in their shoe gifted by their kids and had completed Everest Base Camp and many other ‘little’ hikes previously, in tennis shoes.
But I would not know all this — it was still Tuesday and I did not know if Barr Camp would have space for me on Saturday night — the day I wanted to hike. All I would know is that Barr trail qualifies as one of the most treacherous hikes in the world because of lightning strikes. And, that I could only dare to do it because I planned to take the cog train from the peak down and break my hike into two days by halting at Barr camp mid-way.
If you must know — when I arrived at Colorado Springs airport on Thursday morning and desperately looked for a quiet place to attend a client meeting from which I could not bail out — the Lee Ann Womack song “I hope you dance” played. I stepped out as I did not want the other side to hear music and then bit my tongue as my voice got drowned by thundering planes.
When I looked at the clock again — it was 4 p.m. I was in the hotel room, feeling quite spent after hours of phone meetings and answering emails. It was drizzling outside and it thundered too. I had managed to take a short nap and was tempted to get the remote and watch TV next, when I remembered the scene from the Bollywood movie Queen. The Grandmum asks Rani — the protagonist about her sightseeing in Paris. To which she replies that she is tucked in bed watching TV. The Grandmum says, “isiliye itni door gayi hai Puttar? Agar TV hi dekhna tah toh yahan se hi dekh leti” meaning — “oh sweetheart! You traveled so far just to watch TV? You could’ve just watched it with us at home”. After a bit of tug, I left the room and walked towards a Mediterranean restaurant a mile away for a plate of hot Falafel.
The downpour was stronger than I had anticipated. There was a Subway across the street that I had not anticipated. When the denim felt too wet and the shoe started to give in — I turned around and hopped across the puddles towards the Subway, trying my best to not splash the passersby who were hopping just like me.
When I finally settled with a footlong flatbread — I looked outside with a bit of dismay. In 2 days I had wanted to hike the Barr trail; I did not know if that was possible anymore as hiking it would be suicidal in the rain. But it looked beautiful outside and something within me tugged me to let go. So I did. I let go of the worrier and embraced the happy warrior that I am.
“Our God is greater….”, I suddenly heard Chris Tomlin playing into the background. What is with all the songs, I wondered. I was in weed country in a Subway that played worship music! I smiled!
As I walked back to my hotel room, trying to find a peek of Pikes Peak through the clouds, I felt at peace. A thought crossed my mind — when I die — i hope my eyes could lift up to see the majestic mountains — for I will always be at home amongst these purple giants — breathing or not.
Barr Camp did not have any room on Saturday. They promised me plenty of space on Sunday. It was serendipitously perfect, for it finally stopped raining on Saturday. Over the course of two days, every soul I met looked at me incredulously, as I shared with them my plans of hiking the Barr trail.
“Surely, you are not doing it alone”, they said
“Alone? Did you know this town has many ghosts?”
“But you are coming from the sea-level…..”
I chuckled. They made me nervous. On Sunday, I woke up while it was still dark outside, tightened my backpack’s straps and started the most strenuous hike I had ever attempted. Alone!
Yellow leaves laced my path as I hiked up. At one point — I kept my backpack down and danced. If I had to re-trace my steps later — I still would have seen the fall colors and felt them on my skin and smelt how Aspens smell in a forest. And, heard the leaves swaying with the wind, crackling, falling, getting crushed and yet not making a sound as they were still fresh, still raw, still alive!
I reached Barr Camp, spent and wet as it had started drizzling again. Later, I would spend an evening listening to stories from other hikers. I wanted to know how Barr trail was for the rest of the hike. When I had tried to look up Barr trail earlier, I could find no photos — with most people complaining that the last miles were so challenging that they were too tired to take any photos of the trail. The other hikers at the camp assured me that it was not that bad and I will probably make it. When I could not sleep later, twisting and turning with the howling wind, I ignored the throbbing vein in the back of my head.
The next morning after a sumptuous breakfast of pancakes, I set out again. At 3 miles to the top, just before the tree line ended, I stopped to filter water and took a long hard look at the A-shaped shelter in the distance, its curtains flailing in the wind. From then on, it would be a point of no-return. I would have to make it to the Peak, if I went ahead.
I soon realized why the last few miles of Barr trail had no photos. With the temperature falling and the wind gust rising, I could only count switchbacks, trying my best to save every ounce of energy I had. The trail became brutal, quickly ascending 1000ft every mile. The air grew thinner at every turn. The scene was staggering. Unlike, anything that I had ever seen! Rocks piled over one another. No life. No soul. Just howling, strong wind. And, just me, flailing and thankful for my backpack for keeping me from getting blown away.
Somehow, I made it through 70mph of wind and 26 deg. F of temperature. My water ran out half a mile before I reached the top. But, I made it! I saw excited visitors posing by the Pikes Peak elevation sign. I wanted to click a photo too but my head was beginning to spin and I was seeing black spots — so I found my way to the coffee shop inside and splayed on the cold bench.
I must have looked horrendous for a medic came by my side. She brought hot water and checked my oxygen levels. The next train was an hour and a half away. Soon, two other medics came by and an elderly hiker couple who had passed me on the trail came to check on me. They urged me to focus on letters and signs across the café and asked me questions. All I wanted to do was sleep but they would not let me. I stayed awake painfully. Claire and John, the elderly hiker couple who were planning to take the train back too, offered to keep me company. John carried my 17lbs backpack and Claire kept rubbing my hands. My feet felt like feather, my hands shivered involuntarily, my head throbbed and the insides of my eyes did too as if it will explode any minute and I could not remember the last time I felt that terrible. It was Acute Mountain Sickness — AMS and a bout of hypothermia and I could not believe it was happening to me.
On the way down in the train; fellow passengers tried to talk with me. I remember them through spots of gray. I also needed to use the restroom. The cog train did not have one. The kind Conductor and the train engineer pulled an emergency stop; the train and the passengers waited at an angle. While the woman who helped me to the emergency restroom asked if I was expecting, like she was; and through that feathery feet, dry and rubbery tongue, I found the chuckle in my throat still! I was going to live, I thought.
Claire and John dropped me to my hotel room and warmed my dinner. They wanted me to spend the night at their place but I decided to stay in my room and call them if needed. I was still shivering but my feet was able to find the ground. After a long hot shower while clutching the curtains, I could breathe.
When I had excitedly talked about my Barr trail hike earlier, someone had commented –
“Well yes, this is a first. Hope this isn’t the last for you”.
And, it was not the last!
I had not died staring at the mountains.
I was out of breath but I picked up the phone and called everyone in my life that mattered. I wanted to tell them that I did love them — except I could not — again!
I simply picked up the phone and told them with a mild chuckle that I made it back and that I was very thankful for them. I was counting my breaths. My hand could clasp the phone just enough. That was enough.
Claire kept checking on me through the evening and the night. When I woke up next morning and thanked Claire and John and asked them for lunch, they simply asked me to pay it forward. I hope someday I would.
For now, I simply wanted to write this story for girls who want to go to Mars. For frail girls who while growing up could not partake in any physical sports because they fell sick easily. Who escaped from their homes barefeet, when they were 4, while their mothers took afternoon siesta, to walk on the cement pavements of the roadside drains, balancing precariously and knowing that they will always keep the fire in their belly. To Rapunzels — that escaped the castles with their own strong braids never needing a prince to rescue them. I write this for I want us to re-write our fairy tales for little girls. And I write this for everyone who doubted themselves or have been doubted by. To everyone that have been blessed by the kindness of strangers! And, to all those souls who find it difficult to express Love!
On the evening that I arrived at Colorado Springs, as I made my way back to the hotel, I saw Fireworks in the distance. The rain had stopped and drops settled themselves on fir trees. I could not figure out the reason for celebration. It was not necessary. For someone, who finds magic in little things, the little display of pink and green stole my heart away!
