8.) Onslaught of Reality.....Check Yourself Before You....Oh, Never Mind.....

     My jubilation is short lived.  Through the foothills and onto the mountain proper, the trail continues to climb.  Steeper and steeper the further I go.  It’s not long before I have to stop every few steps to catch my breath.  It’s like climbing up the down escalator at the mall, endlessly….with a refrigerator on your back.  And there’s no cinn-a-bunn at the top of this one.  I plow my way up and forward, lugging my pack and myself to the end of the next switch back where I collapse.  Breathing heavily and light headed I wonder what I got myself into.  This isn’t mandatory you know?  You chose to do this, and now you’re going to die of exposure on the side of a mountain because you thought you were some sort of bad ass.  I really don’t want to give up, and at this point it’s just as far to turn around as it is to continue on to camp.  As I’m contemplating this in the fetal position and preying that death comes swiftly, a pack of about 30 elementary school kids comes happily skipping down the trail in the other direction.  They’ve already been to the top and are already on their way down.  All chatting giddily, hopping onto and off of rocks and ledges along he way with the grace and effortlessness of mountain goats.  My ego, which was already pretty close to rock bottom, if not already sprawled limply across it;  has now dug its way through rock bottom and into the muck and mire and whatever else lies beneath.  
I can’t let myself be bested by school children.  I rest long enough for my vision to clear and my lungs to stop bleeding and will myself up to the end of the next switch back.  I continue in this fashion for a while.  Each time I conquer another switchback, I tell myself, next one has to be the last one…but it never is…ever.  My progress is excruciatingly slow and just plain excruciating, and just as I’m sure I’m going to black out the mountain takes pity on me and ends.  I’ve made it to the top….of this leg.  I’m kissing the ground for finally being flat, and when I regain my motor skills I consult my map to discover it’s still about a mile to my campsite.  I want to weep.  Fortunately, from where I’m slumped in a limp pile of my own hubris, I see a sign for a campsite right here, just off the trail.  Fuck it, there’s no way I can go on, I’m staying here.  I drag my body up the trail towards the campsite only to realize, upon reaching it that there’s some one already here.  I don’t care.  I see enough room for my tent, and thats all I need.  
Caleb is cooking himself dinner as I lumber up beside him.  With the last of my breath I introduce myself and explain to him my situation, that my campsite is another mile away, but I think I’m dying and he has no problem with having a little company for the evening.  I thank him profusely, and crawl to the edge of camp where I proceed to liberally vomit up every drop of water drank on the way up.  No food mind you, because I’ve eaten next to nothing for the past three days.  I know, I didn’t really think this through, but I’ve never been one for plans.  Always been a seat of you pants kinda guy, just see what happens.  Well, what happens sometimes, isn't very pretty.  
After my stomach is empty, I feel better, but not much.  Caleb sympathizes with my plight and then heads for Emory Peak, the highest point in all of Big Bend.  It’s only about a mile and a half away, and he’s going without his pack since his camp is already set.  I don’t have the energy to even laugh at him when he asks if I want to go with him.  
As he bounds off towards the trail, I’ve pulled myself together enough to make an attempt at cooking dinner.  All I have is some mac and cheese, and in the absence of milk and butter, this stands to be a bland order made with nothing but water and the powdered cheese mix.  Once it’s ready however, it’s magnificent.  Most likely because, moments ago, I was starving to death but a warm meal, no matter the ingredients, or lack there of, can make a hell of a difference.  The left overs I lock in the bear box for breakfast in the morning and drag myself deep inside my tent.  I’m physically and mentally exhausted, unable to move, nearly paralyzed in my sleeping bag….It’s 7:30.