I Climbed, I Fell - Twice...

The Witch's Hill

She was called 'The Witch's Hill'. Lifting a good 700 feet into the sky, and ending with a crooked but very pointed tip, the hill strongly resembled a Witch's hat. And I'd longed to climb her bonnet for many days now and the time was right.

If you've ever had a yen to climb a tall hill, rockface, or mountain, you probably discovered that it's a lot easier getting to the top than it is coming back down. I learned the hard way. Twice.

If you're damned and determined to climb something, then seriously consider investing in a couple of downy pillows that you can strap around you, to break your fall. Like I said, the way up is easy. It's the coming down (or falling down) that will kill you.

On the morning I struck out to climb The Witch's Hill, a thick fog had engulfed the valley. There was actually no real need for the sunglasses that I sported but they went with my climbing outfit and made me look ultra cool. It would have been nicer if they'd come with detachable little wipers to whisk away the mist of the fog as it settled about my face. Gadgets are so practical in this day and age.

The Witch's Hill was fat, strapped with rock that side-stepped to the tip. Some areas of the hill arrowed straight up into the clouds and I found myself reaching, gripping, and lunging forward, my hands meeting the rocky terrain as I strained to hoist myself higher onto the hill.

Do you know that some species of poisonous snakes like to sunbathe on the edges of cliffy rocks? That was just one important thing I learned, giving substance and knowledge to my first fall.

Do you know that three-leafed, beautifully colored plants have the ability to create a very nasty, watery rash that can last a good eight weeks if you keep scratching?

Do you know that cotton gloves don't last long when they continuously grind against stone?

And do you know that baseball caps simply sail off one's head during an abrupt fall?

After thirty minutes of strenuous climbing, yes, I fell. The fall lasted about one minute, but it seemed more like thirty. What did it feel like? Imagine that you're a piece of beef getting tenderized for dinner. It's a bit like that, only worse.

Winded, but not defeated, I viewed The Witch's Hill with new eyes, smarter eyes, and eyes that had been crying due to the pain from the big fall. Oh, but I was determined!

Gathering my self-esteem about me, I redirected my steps towards my campsite, intent on collecting proper gear. My endeavors were temporarily thwarted, but I'd be back.

An hour and two cheeseburgers later, I returned to The Witch's Hill, ready to take on the she-devil of rock and heartless earth. My gear included an assortment of the items that I'd taken on the first attempt: a camouflaged canteen of water, a knife, my sexy sunglasses, and a tiny bottle of sunscreen. I'd added a bit of rope, insect repellent, a hat that tied snugly beneath my chin, a paisley handkerchief, some trail mix, and a bottle of whiskey that was half-full for medicinal purposes and courage. I'd also swapped my Nike's for mountain climbing shoes.

It was mid-morning, the sun zenith in the blue sky, the fog snuffed out by the newborn blaze of heat. My sunglasses were put to good use as I begin my strenuous journey up the hill that ended with a crooked tip.

About half-way up, I discovered that eating those cheeseburgers may not have been the brightest idea of the day. My tummy churned every now and then, but I also considered that the churning may have been attributed to the fear of finding another of God's glorious snakes. It was also more difficult to breathe, as the air was thinning out.

Six hours later (the devil's number), I was all but sitting on the tip of The Witch's Hill. My face was etched with a satisfied smile and I felt like the King of this she-devil of a hill. Piece of cake! I knew all along that I could climb her. Nothing to her!

I rested for about an hour, looking towards the west, anticipating the sunset that was destined to be a beauty on this bountiful day. I so-wanted to stay and watch it play out, but I'd left behind a very important piece of gear; the tiny rod of light, my trusty triple-D-Celled flashlight.

Standing and gazing down below, it seemed so powerfully far away. I imagined I resembled a tiny frog on top of the hill, miniaturized by the strength and size of The Witch's Hill.

My leg begin to shake as I forced it forward, commanding it to begin its decent. Do you know that there are times that your body just won't listen to you?

Hours, which seemed more like days, passed before me as I made my way from the breast of the she-devil to the lowlands in the valley. I slipped, I slid, I stumped my heel, my toes, I banged my head, my legs, my back, my hiney, and when I was fifty feet shy of touching the base of the hill, I fell.

If not for the blasted whiskey bottle, all would have been well. At least the alcohol sterilized the deep cuts taken by my leg.

After listening to my tale of warning, if you still want to climb - climb if you will. Just don't forget those pillows!

Camping Recipes

Snap, Crackle, Pop Tortilla Soup | Chuckwagon Supper | Nachos Deluxe | Pancakes for a Princess |Pancakes for a Pauper | A Slice of Heaven | Graham Cracker Clouds | Grasshopper Pie | Cheesepie, Oh My

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