The Sun Shines

I still remember the first time I hiked out to Courthouse Rock.  I was probably nineteen or twenty—a recent college dropout—and working full time in some dreary factory in Winchester.  I spent most of my free time hiking and exploring the Gorge.  I’d bought Robert H. Ruchhoft’s Land of the Arches hiking guide and set about systematically visiting all the places in it.

The trail was well travelled back then, but nothing like it is now.  I hike it often.  It’s my go to after work hike these days.  I appreciate the copious amounts of sunshine along the ridgetop hike.  I’ve also been working myself back up to scrambling on the exposed rock formations along the ridge.  Notably Haystack Rock and Courthouse Rock. 

On that first hike I was alone as I usually am.  It felt like a long distance to reach the end of the ridge, but if you’ve hiked Auxier Ridge you know that the scenery gets more interesting and dramatic as you go.  The main thing I remember about that hike thirty or so years ago was as I neared the end of the ridge I started running.  I don’t really know why.  I was wearing blue jeans and old beat-up hiking boots.  I had a backpack probably. 

Why would I get the urge to run?  I’m still not sure exactly.  But as I ran something surreal happened: I glanced out to my left toward the west and saw a large bird of prey of some sort gliding along at the same pace I was running.  We were both headed toward the end of the ridge.  I had never been there, so I didn’t know what would happen up ahead, but I kept running and keeping one eye on the bird.  I ran, and I had this image of myself just running straight off the end of the ridge into the sky.  As if I could fly along with the bird.  I had to pick up speed as the ridge narrowed.  The bird was moving faster, and I was going to lose it. 

My young legs worked hard, dropping down a rocky slab, pistoning against gravity to carry me over a shoulder high ledge, and finally I looked out and saw the bird soar off over the gap between the end of the ridge and Courthouse Rock.  I came up short in a cloud of dust at the final overlook before the stairs down the steep drop off and watched the bird continue out over the valley above the mouth of Indian Creek.

I can’t remember if I scrambled up on top of Courthouse Rock that day in the early Nineties.  I did get on top of it around that time.  And I returned to the summit of Courthouse and Haystack Rocks many times over the years.  For a long time, I did a trail run/scramble loop out Auxier Ridge, picking up both of those points and incorporating as much rocky scrambling as I could.  Then I’d cross over to Double Arch and traverse that ridge back to Tunnel Ridge.  Twice I made the sketchy 5^th class move which put me on top of the end of Tunnel Ridge instead of dropping back down to the trail necessitating ascending the brutal stairs out of Auxier Branch.

Those were many years ago.  I am many pounds heavier.  The brain cells and synapses that made those alpine training loops possible are long dead.  Or whatever happens to brain cells and synapses when they fail to engage in ways you remember them engaging.

This past year I’ve ventured out to Haystack a few times trying to knuckle up the gumption to get back on top of it.  Recently, I did so.  It’s all baby steps.  I’ve gone out to Courthouse a handful more times than Haystack to screw up the courage to make the moves to the top.  Courthouse has been a little harder for me for some reason.  The base has eroded drastically, making the first move considerably more committing.  The fall at the bottom is sketchy anyway, with a fatal drop leering mere feet to the right.  The rock feels more polished than it did fifteen or twenty years ago.  Duh!  And the times I’ve tested the moves it felt like my bum shoulder was going to be impinged if I committed my considerable mass to the moves.

After work this past Tuesday I ventured out Auxier Ridge again.  Typically, when I get out there and am not feeling it, I end up stripping down to the barest legally clothed state I can be in and lay in the sun on the bare rock between Haystack and Courthouse.  I’m trying to bank as much vitamin D as I can while the sun shines.  Gotta make hay and all that. 

Tuesday, I pushed on, dropped down the stairs, crossed the gap, made my way up the ledgy approach on the east face, and found myself standing under the 4^th class northeastern aspect of Courthouse yet again.  Without giving it too much thought I reached up, worked out the feet, and hauled myself up into the angling gash in the sandstone.  I knew what moves to do.  So, I made them.  I couldn’t help but be aware of the gaping sky to my right.  I couldn’t help but think what would happen if I slipped off a sandy hand or foothold and tumbled down the funneling chimney.  I got past the bulgy section and sighed in relief.  The upper slabby part is where I shine, so I plowed on up with complete disregard for the impending descent I’d have to pull off before darkness fell.

That’s not true.  I had full regard for said descent.  I tried not to let it ruin my summit high, but I kept thinking about the reality that no matter what I would have to climb myself back down to flat ground.  My solar collection was truncated by performance anxiety.  After a shorter period of time than I’d hoped, I found myself being pulled back toward the descent.  I stowed my phone and water bottle and made my way over to the crack and eased into the descent. 

Creaky knees and a stiff lower back didn’t come into play so much on my descent the other day, but they’ve flared up since then, and I now fully realize how much scrambling like that can take physically.  I never noticed that in my younger days, which is surely why I stayed in good shape until my forties.  I’m happy to have crossed back into the realm of scrambling adventures, and I feel like if I can keep this streak up and stay healthy my fitness will only continue to improve.

I did feel good in my body, making the moves, bending and twisting and working with and against gravity to travel through the world.  I miss those proprioceptive inputs.  

My goal is to work back up to doing the full five mile or more scrambly loop hitting all the available bare rock in the area.  Those were enjoyable days, and I look forward to recreating those memories.