More importantly, it inspires a religious fervor usually reserved for tent revivals and snake handling. "Please, Lord, make me a lichen. I'm not asking to be made an eagle, just a lichen. Because lichen's not going anywhere."
It was at this point in my devotional that the middle school art teacher helpfully told me to stay put.
In front of me was the cliff face to which I was plastered. Behind me was a 70-degree incline leading to a 50-foot drop onto jagged rocks. Yeah, thanks for the tip, Jimmy. I'll just go ahead and stay here.
His name isn't really Jimmy -- I'm ashamed to admit I can't remember his name -- but by that point in the hike I'd begun to think of him as Jimmy the Wonder Boy, part monkey, part mountain goat. The day before, he'd invited me to go hiking with him and some other teachers, and I enthusiastically accepted with a thrilled, "Yes! Thanks for including me!"
I figured there was nothing to worry about. I mean, this is the man I went to when I needed heartfelt drawings of fruit. He's very thin, deeply sensitive and always creatively attired. Surely he wouldn't lead us on anything too strenuous.
Oh, it is to laugh! Foolish Rachel. I humbly bow to books and their covers.
But in my defense, the hike was very easy at first. We got off the bus, the nine of us, and walked through the barren, Mad Max-like wasteland at the base of the mountains. I should point out that Korla is sandwiched between the vast Taklamakan Desert and the mighty Tienshan Mountains -- the dry side of the Tienshan. There is nothing on this side of the mountains -- no trees, no flowers, no grass. They are imposing, impossible slopes of razor-edged scree, between which run narrow, vein-like valleys littered with boulders and other detritus of geologic impermanence. They are 10,000 shades of brown and gray.
So, these are not friendly mountains. But they're definitely interesting. And Jimmy was interested in going up and over them. Blithely, we followed.
Now, I've always enjoyed a good, healthy upward scramble. But following directly behind Jimmy, I noticed that I actually was scrambling. There were no hand or toe holds, nothing for traction, only layers of small, sharp rocks and loose dirt. The slopes were treacherously steep and momentum was the only thing I had going for me. Well, that and false pride. I didn't want to look like a big, American sissy and, okay, fine, the fifth grade P.E. teacher was on the expedition, too. It's possible I could have been showing off a little for his benefit.
However, we'd get to the top of yet another slope and have to sidle along a pencil-thin ridgeline to reach the next impossible incline. My addled brain registered a warning, "Um..."
"Um," I said to Jimmy, gazing up the slope we were facing and what was at the top (a cliff) and what could possibly be beyond that (certain death). "Um. Wow. This is..."
"Hen hao (very good)!" he offered, flashing me a grinning thumbs up and loping up the slope with the ease of a mountain goat. In defiance of logic, I followed him. It was terrifying. At the top, I lunged for the cliff face and clung for dear life. No way was I climbing it. And we couldn't go around. And the thought of going back down that slope hardened my new resolve: I will live here.
Yes, I will stay attached to this cliff for the rest of my life. Perhaps I will attain guru status someday. I will dispense wisdom and love and...
"Stay here," Jimmy instructed, scuttling back down the slope like a monkey to help his other hapless victims ascend. He even pulled out the rope he'd brought along for that very purpose.
The three other women in our group were clearly scared, so I offered hearty encouragement as they climbed: "Yes! You can do it! Way to go! Hooray!" The other men were all bravado and false good cheer. Even when they slipped, it was with an implied "Ha ha! Almost went to be with Elvis there! Ha."
But then... great. We were huddled like refugees on the side of a mountain, art teacher bounding around like a rabbit, with rappelling down the other side of the slope as our best option for descent. The other women accepted this with a peaceful stoicism that I've come to admire in my Chinese friends. I accepted it with threats and a shameful amount of swearing.
"I'm going to strangle you when we get down!" I hissed at Jimmy. "Why didn't we just walk up the valley that's right below us?"
He was mystified by this question, a little disappointed that I'm not a disciple of the "because it's there" gospel. But true to his role as psychotic Boy Scout leader, he saw us all down and, inexplicably, up more slopes. Then, after we'd stopped for lunch in a narrow canyon, facing what would end up being our final, treacherous descent, he even pulled out a harmonica and insisted on a post-meal musicale.
This is how I ended up singing Rocky Top for an audience of eight.
Once were were again on level ground, shuffling back to the bus stop, art teacher shyly asked if I'd had fun. I had. A lot of it. I'd been terrified, yes, but all things are softened in the rosy glow of retrospect. I told him I was very, very happy. I thanked him again for inviting me.
"But," I added, patting a new tear in the seat of my jeans, "I still might strangle you."
Perhaps it's not obvious in the photo, but I'm here to tell you that slope was steep.
And the other side of that slope required a rope. That's the art teacher in the blue shirt.
Descending the final rocks, I pondered the feasibility of cramming my own camera down the art teacher's throat. I don't even know why he had it.
And now for two gratuitous photos of the 5th grade P.E. teacher, because I got home and discovered half my photos were of him. Which is kind of embarrassing.
You, um, rock?!
ReplyDeleteIncredible!
ReplyDeleteYou're looking great these days. I think China is agreeing with you.