Ah, sleep. On the morning of the second day, the grimness and exhaustion of the previous evening began to fade away with coffee and comradery. We met over breakfast and talked about what we’d accomplished, and I mentioned that it was a fitting end to our year. The three of us had done the South Rim in February. Now Guadalupe Peak in November. And for me, personally, yesterday’s climb felt a fitting end to more, a longer period reaching back to my wife’s death in 2020, a journey of its own.

It felt as though my life was now solidifying into then and now. And I began to have this feeling I always feel whenever I am getting ready to move, in the most literal sense. Move to Virginia. Move to Texas. Move to a new job. Move to a new home. A feeling of anticipation, a feeling of possibilities, and on a personal level, a chance to become a new me, to patch the flaws, overcome the deficiencies.

So, I was happy when we decided to walk McKittrick Canyon to shake out our joints and loosen our muscles from yesterday’s adventure. Because the same walk last year was one of discovery and beauty, and I was ready for that, and wanted more. And I was right, it was a good walk. It soothed more than my aching bones. My spirit revived as well.

There was clear running water, ash and maples in their fall colors, Madrones rich with red berries and vibrant multi-colored trunks. Tall canyon walls rose beside us. There was a canopy of blue sky. And it was a soft walk, less than 800 feet in elevation gain over the four miles to the Pratt Cabin and the Grotto just beyond. We took our time. We sat in the shade. We talked. We visited with strangers.

On our way out of the Canyon we passed a couple we’d met at the Grotto. The woman was lying on a large block of shale by the creek being cooled by her companion. It turned out she has MS and when she overheats her body shuts down. They assured us all would be well, and we continued on. I remembered my concern of the day before, about shutting down at the end of the walk, and felt a little guilty about my self-imposed anxiety. After a bit, they passed us on the trail, and we marveled at the resilience of the human body and the human spirit. I thought of my cousin’s wife who is fighting the same disease, and of my wife who fought her disease, and I thought how nice it was to have someone to support you, to have friends who support you.

And just like that, as my two companions walked ahead of me, a tiny Pine Siskin flew out of the brush. It landed first on the hat of my friend from Ozona. I called to him, but the bird fluttered off only to land on the shoulder of my Canyon Lake friend, where it sat for a second as she looked at it, startled. Then it dropped down to sit on her hand that was holding her walking stick. And I thought it nice that two such friends were gifted with such a treat, and I was there to see it. And I felt perhaps I was really in the company of angels.

That evening, as we broke out our guitars and sang a few songs, I felt it again. It was dark. I sat on the bench of the picnic table and sang, looking toward the peak where I could see the lights of late climbers coming down the trail. I felt a touch of solitude. Yet my friend from Ozona sat on the table beside me to my right and slightly behind me with his guitar, while my Canyon Lake friend sat exactly behind me on the bench opposite. I wondered again if I was in the company of angels, watching over me, bringing me safely down from the Peak, walking me through my troubles, and I didn’t want to stop for fear they’d be gone when I finished. But they were there when I did, and we wondered about the late night climbers and how fast they came down.

And later, as I lay in bed, I thought about my marriage of 50 years and how my wife and I had reached a beautiful high in life only to suffer a hard down through dementia and death. And I thought about my friends who, just as they did on the Peak, helped me with that hard down. And now that we had finished the Peak, maybe the other hard down was finished too, and it was safe to remember it, celebrate the entire trip, and make ready for tomorrow because in the end the trip was totally worth it, and certainly worth remembering.

Tomorrow: Part Four: The Spring