A symbolic hike in Sedona, AZ
I went hiking for the first time in my life in Sedona, Arizona. I hiked Devil’s Bridge. Initially the walk from the trail head was pleasant. The path was bumpy, but the lovely scenery of the mountains made the walk pleasant. Every now and then I’d run into kind, smiling people who had just experienced the thrill of the bridge. I was excited and ready to conquer my fear of heights.
Soon the pleasant trail began to incline and I found myself in the middle of a workout. I was sweating and a little out of breath, which I found humorous because I worked out five to six days a week. I stopped to rest and enjoyed the view of the majestic mountains. I took a few pictures then continued my journey. 15 minutes in I heard laughter and people talking so I knew I was near, I looked up and realized I was underneath the bridge. I tried going back the way I came but didn’t recognize the path. I called out to people across the way; they said they were going up. I needed to figure out how to get to that side of the trail. I took a couple of steps, lost my footing and fell on my bottom down a steep hill.
The moment was intense. Every little plant or small tree I grabbed for leverage was too weak to hold my 130 pound frame. I didn’t scream out but I panicked on the inside. My heart was pounding, and a few tears fell from my eyes. I heard strangers running over, yelling for me to try to hold on to something; but the only voice I truly paid attention to was my inner voice praying for strength and the chance to see my family again. I managed to steady myself on a small tree so I sat there contemplating a plan, telling myself that I had to get off that hill and get home safe to my family. Against the strangers advice I started moving again. I turned over and managed to climb up the hill on all fours. I don’t quite remember climbing. What I do remember is complete silence from above. I remember whispering words to myself like, “Stay calm.” “Your family needs you.” “You can do this.”
When I reached the top of the hill the strangers told me I was very brave. I had scratches and bruised skin, broken fingernails, tiny thorns stuck in my skin, dirt on my face and inside my nostril,s and I lost two bottles of water from my portable cooler. None of that bothered me because I did it – I made it up the hill and I’d see my family again.
I learned something significant on that 92 degree day on a steep hill in the middle of the desert. I learned that we all fall down in life but if we just keep climbing; even though we may get hurt, dirty, broken and lost with annoying thorns stuck in our sides; eventually we’ll make it to the top and our journey will be as symbolic as a hike in Sedona, Arizona.
