Back to Mountains and Such

Okay, so I decided to make an attempt at refering to many of the stories that happened this summer in Colorado because I feel that I cheated you the readers from the knowledge and myself from the recorded memory of these adventures. So I pick up where I left off.
I emerged at the pinnacle of Pike's Peak, to find the summit swarming with tourists of all types of age, race, type, and locality. It's sort of ironic to use all of one's strength and willpower to hike up a mountain. The whole entire grandeur and majesty that's associated with reaching the top, you would expect to meet in utter solitude or at least sharing it with other rough hikers. You never would assume that Aunt Mamie would be at the top taking pictures along with her computer guru kids fighting over slices of pizza at the gift shop. There was a whole entire restaraunt at the top!
I will admit I did get tears in my eyes when I first rose to the summit, and heard these tourists singing the very song that this mountain had historically inspired, "America, the Beautiful." -And beautiful it all was to know that I had reached the top by foot to America's most popular mountain. However, it was a little irritating whenever I wished to sit down inside, away from the cruel sun that had blistered my face already, to see within the gift shop and restaraunt no empty seats. All the tourists that had galloped up the side of the mountain by car or train, had swiped all the seats....sitting there stuffing their faces with chili cheese fries and lemon pie. -And poor little me whose legs were wobbling just trying to stand up, whose lips felt like they could be peeled off from the wind blasts, whose stomach was growling at the energy intake that it hard so long ago burned up; I had to go back outside and sit on a rock.
I only brought with me 3 dollars. I didn't think that there was an entire mess hall on the top of this 14, 000 footer. And nothing worth eating was under 4 dollars. This was a tourist trap and me, the least tourist of all, was the only one truly trapped. I desperately needed something to eat. It would have been very hard to make it down that mountain without more substance in my belly. Eventually I was able to nab a seat inside and there only to brood over who to go to and bum a dollar off of. I decided to try to get that very hotdog that was calling out for me and then go to the cashier and realize that I was short only a dollar. The cashier looked like a nice, honest guy. And when he saw my famished face and my starving eyes and how I assured him that I climbed up this mountain with only a dollar short for the hot dog that I craved, he told me not to worry about it that he would pay the rest. I gave him a big thanks and then quickly devoured the hot dog.
After my hike down the first half to the midpoint post (where my tent was set up from the night before), I rested reading "Blue Like Jazz" the only book besides my Bible that I took out there. I also began talking to many of the other campers that were from all over. Most of them much older than me. I think I was the only one from the east out there. I meet a girl from Texas. Her name was Jane and she taught music. She was about my age, and I came to find out that she was a very solid christian and had climbed the first half up the mountain in order to undergo her own sabbatical. I asked her what type of crisis she was in or what type of big decision lay before her, she responded none. That she was doing this sabbatical out of devotion. You could say that she set an example for me. Well, the next day the both of us would be hiking down the 7 miles to the very bottom of the mountain. So we hiked together. We talked on and on about church, mission work, upbringings, shortcomings (that was mostly me talking), just our spiritual lives in general. And we gave each other advice. We got to the bottom and we waited on her friend whom she promised would give me a ride to the bus station. Her friend showed up, which I can't remember his name, which was ironic for in the short ride that I was with him, he greatly affected my whole trip. He was brought up in the Church of Christ. (When I asked Jane and also he which church they now attended they both would respond that they belong to a house church. Interesting). They took me to the Greyhound station in Colorado Springs and then they both prayed over me. Which was amazing. Then headed on a bus deeper into the heart of the Rockies. My next stop...Vail.