Between a Rock and a Dark Place

A Personal Essay by Henry Morris

"There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand."

I’m not sure I fully knew what exactly I was getting myself into. Neither did my dad. We never really stopped to ask ourselves if it was worth it or if we should we just find a different weekend to go.

Stuck Below the Mountain

In the summer of 2009 my dad, three of my brothers, and I set out to hike King’s Peak, the tallest peak in the state of Utah sitting at 13,528 feet. I was thirteen and had zero interest giving up a summer weekend filled with swimming, video games, my couch, and friends, to go backpacking for a whole weekend. We piled in the Outback and headed to the trail. Cramped and grumpy, we arrived. Well, not really. Adam realized he was holding the map upside down (yes, a map) and led us to the wrong trailhead. My dad is usually a quite aggressive driver but man, I had never seen him drive like that before. Running hours behind schedule now, we arrived at the real trailhead. Our trailhead.

Five minutes in and we’re already soaked. I was fully convinced that one of us was gonna die from a lightning strike. I’m crying at night saying I want to go home, and the freeze-dried turkey tetrazzini isn’t helping. I didn’t sign up for this. I sat in the tent while Will and my dad were fixing dinner and getting drinking water for us. Sitting and pouting. The next day wasn’t better. It was worse, actually. Dark clouds are everywhere, including my head. I lagged behind and was lost on the summit. No one in sight. I legitimately thought, in my 8^th grade mind, I might never see my family again. After screaming loud enough for everyone to hear, my dad found me and we headed back down the mountain, never reaching the summit. I shrunk in the face of adversity, and failed to reach my goal.

Ten years passed with every August as a not-so-gentle reminder of King’s Peak. The most vivid feelings of the gooey mud, piercing rain, and bitter cold never fled my memory. My dad would occasionally mention how he anticipated the day that we climbed it together, but those memories came back and I stuck to my vows of never attempting that summit ever, ever again. I never felt the need to go, and was often flooded with guilt of failing so severely.  Suddenly, however, in the Summer of 2019, it clicked. To this day I don’t know what changed in me, or why. I felt something that I don’t think I quite fully understood. I didn’t know the purpose behind it, but I knew I need to hike King’s Peak.

Climbing the Mountain

My family isn’t an outdoorsy family who loves spending time in nature. Most of our camping gear is from the 90’s and our “new gear” is from the mid 2000’s. I hadn’t been camping for well over five years. As my dad and I packed up the night before, I felt sick. My Nike Free Runs and J Crew khakis aren’t convincing me that I am fully prepared for this trip. My dad’s boots are twenty years old and his Levis aren’t much newer than that. I knew we weren’t really prepared for this, but I think that added to my determination to finish the hike. I’ve always rooted for underdogs and in this instance, I actually felt like one. The drive up was early and cold. I was alone with my pacing thoughts as my dad took a few business calls. We arrived at the right trailhead on the first try this time and loaded up our packs. The scent of powdered Gatorade placed me right back in 2009 again. Suddenly my surroundings were all familiar. The trail, the trees, the river, my dad. The familiarity of it all gave me a strange sense of unexpected confidence that overcame me. It was like two old enemies coming together after a long time to duke it out one more time.

The first part of the day was quick and easy. Passing fellow hikers, stopping infrequently to catch our breath, and moving a lot faster than we had anticipated. We set up camp in a perfect spot next to a little pond and on a green, grassy patch that seemed tailor made for us with bulky boulders to sit on and rest our packs.

Then the rain came. And it came hard. My dad and I lay in our tent, deafened by the beating of the rain on our tent. It felt like thousands of middle schoolers were having on all-out airsoft war on our tent. I sat and wondered what my dad was thinking about and what his motivations were. Why did he feel this trip was so necessary? We remained calm and decided it was time to eat. The turkey tetrazzini was back. Ten years later I was sitting in a tent, in the pouring rain, eating turkey tetrazzini. (I wasn’t crying this time.) I did have doubts, though. I had been faced with many stormy nights in my life, and hadn’t always responded with grit and determination. I had given up, not reached my potential, and quit many times before. I had to ask myself if this time was going to be any different than the last.

Morning came and we set out on the trail to the summit. Dozens of people passing us with the latest hiking gear who seemed much more equipped for what lied ahead of all of us. This day was filled with a lot more breaks than the day prior. Sometimes we wouldn’t take more than 30 steps and we would stop again until my dad couldn’t hear his heart beating anymore. I began to feel a little uneasy every time I heard his huffs and puffs.

We arrived at the base of the summit. It looked eerily familiar. Then we buckled up and headed up the summit. Now we were taking breaks every 10-15 steps. I didn’t blame thirteen-year-old Henry anymore. I didn’t feel resentment for my younger self anymore. This moment was an opportunity for me to truly turn the page and change the narrative of my life.

The hike had turned into a climb. We thought we saw the peak, only to summit it and look on to see an even higher peak in front of us. A family of three passed us, with the young dad carrying his three-year-old on his back. Honestly, just find a babysitter.

Suddenly as I climbed up a boulder, I saw multiple heads poking out just thirty yards away. With a new burst of adrenaline, we pushed up ahead and arrived at the peak. 13,528 feet. Thirteen Thousand Five Hundred and Twenty-Eight feet. We took a seat, and then some pictures. Ate some snacks without really chatting too much. We just observed the colorful beauty below us. I embraced the tranquility and tried my best amidst the sounds of my beating heart to reflect on my journey here. Not just the hike, though. I thought about my life’s journey and the peaks and valleys I had experienced. I felt better equipped now to face trials that surely lay ahead.

It wasn’t long before the daunting clouds to the left of us started threatening. We packed up and moved down the mountain. The second we got off the summit and back on to the trail, we were drenched with showers from those clouds who had been threatening for so long. I was too happy to be bothered by it. We had accomplished what we had set out to do and had turned a new page. We put our heads down and marched back towards our camp at twice the speed moving down-hill this time. We were on our way home leaving the hardest part further and further behind us, ready for life’s next mountain.