Mistakes, Missteps and the Nature of Being Impressed

I am often impressed when I meet new people. Perhaps my standards are low, but I like the feeling of being surprised when I meet someone and they are more than they could be. Three days into training week the new PTC staff are already amazing to me.

On Thursday we had a semi-official hike to Window Rock. In my mind, it is and always has been eight miles round trip, but last year Anna and I got the official numbers and I knew that that number was off by two. Silly me, I told everybody we were going about six miles. It was 9.8. We didn't find out until the next day. This is how the day began.

We piled into a bus and set out for Cito turnaround. Of course, Kari and I sang songs to the crew, including "Mary had a little lamb" - our version may be a little different from the one you know; the lamb is eventually blown apart with dynomite and made into a sandwich. As is my custom, I punched the top of the bus for emphasis until I chanced to look up and spotted the blood staining the ceiling. Yes, it was mine. Then it turned out that the gate was locked and we had to call Greg to unlock it. The hike hasn't even begun yet.

On we went, across the stream and into the backcountry. The wife of one of the chaplains was with us, a sweet sixty-seven year old woman named Amanda who had a medical history longer than the scar down my leg. We kept her at the front of the pack and rested when she needed it, but she just couldn't make it. By the time we hit the road again I had to call Greg for the second time, this time for an evac at the reservoir. Including these delays, if took us four hours to get from PTC to Window Rock.

This is where I become the villain of the story. I've got a gift for calculating time (if not distance) on hikes and even with a forty five minute lunch break, we had time to take the long way down through Hidden Valley - just barely. At a strong pace, with few stops, we would make our 3:30 pick up time with time to spare. We could even pad it more by hiking back on the road partway.

Then Christy blew out her knee about a mile from the turnaround. I honestly don't remember when I saw her wrapping it with an ace wrap, but somewhere in my mind it was perfectly okay and I had dismissed it out of hand. Now she could barely stop herself from screaming when she tried to put weight on it. Bless her stubborn heart, the poor little thing wanted to try to hike herself in, but there was just no way. In the end, Dan, Shawn and Kevin took five minute shifts carrying her back the last mile.

I was hurting pretty badly too by then, though I would rather have ripped my own leg off than admit it after letting so much go wrong. I had slipped in some mud at the reservoir and my leg felt like it had dropped a gear. By the time I got to the bus (only ten minutes late) I was dragging my leg like a damaged Mechwarrior Mech. Needless to say, there was no singing on the way back.

With everything that went wrong on the hike, I suppose I should be discouraged. I am a little embarassed around the points where I can blame myself, but somehow I take this great failure as an incredibly good sign. No one complained, not once while we were on the trail. Not Amanda when she nearly fell over from pain and exhaustion over and over on the trail. Not Christy when her knee went sideways on her. Not the boys as they had to sling a hundred plus pound girl across their shoulders and walk on like St. Christopher. Where did we get this staff, that they can endure so much and keep such a positive attitude? Whatever called them all together here, I'll take them, and look forward to finding out just how much more they can impress me.