09.09.2018. A Walking Song

'Come on. Why be cocky against a mountain? Why pretend you're bigger than it?' I frown, looking at the bunch who are trying to climb a gravel wall totally off-trail, causing smaller and bigger avalanches of stone rumbling down.
'That could kill someone.' Two guys beside me nod in agreement.
The thirteen of us have been hiking for some three hours and reached the Mendenhall Glacier,

climbed on it, understood why everyone's been warning us against stepping on it, and are now trying to continue the trail which has just become a bit more vertical and slippery than necessary.

We want to make it up Mount McGinnis; as we hear, this bit was about a tenth of what this hike is going to be.
'We'll have to split up. There's no way some of these people will make it up there alive.'
We agree. Plus, we've already lost a few somewhere out by the glacier. We debate and decide that six of us are going up. Four guys, two girls. Finland, Germany, Long Island, Colorado, Lithuania and Latvia are about to pin their flags up the longest and hardest no-equipment-needed trail in Juneau. We've been warned not to choose this as one of our first hikes. It's our second.
With easy minds and light feet we take off. Well, almost. My army boots weigh 1,5 kg each. Extra leg workout, I guess?
'Man, this is starting to look like Lord of the Rings.'

 Those who can relate, laugh in agreement. Humming Into The West, we approach what looks to be a cliff. Or a wall of stone. Slippery streams of water and mud running down it.

'Oh well, seems that this is the difficult part'.
How innocent. Little did we know that the whole trail, the whole 20+ km of it, is going to be 'the difficult part'. We crawl up the rocks and stride onwards.
A couple of hours pass. It's well into midday, and we are confident we'll reach the top in an hour or so. It's been rather tiring, but nothing horrible.
'Hi, how are ya?' It's a fellow hiker, or, rather, a couple. The guy is barefoot. How he made it up here on the slippery rocks is a bit beyond comprehension.
'Ya guys here on exchange?'
'How can you tell?'
'Uh... a group a'student's, college age, hikin' Mt McGinnis?'
We laugh.
'Well ya ain't halfway up there yet.'
Oh..there goes the 'it's probably an hour more'.
Our feet are getting a little heavier. At least mine are. Certain Long Island and Colorado people are proving to be mountain goats. The boots formed blisters on me when I first wore them, and they haven't healed properly. It bothers me a lot, and I'm slowing down, feeling guilty for dragging my pack. We shuffle on. Rocks, mud, springs, moss, swamp, gravel, rocks, repeat.

'Guys, I'm worried we'll have to make it down when it's dark already.'
'Ehhh, let's maybe... not go to the top, but just above the treeline?'
'I've heard the escape helicopter in Juneau is free.'
The breathtaking views are not what's taking our breath away anymore. It's exhaustion. But we'll go on.
Two girls and a dog are making their way down - and we know them, apparently.
'Guys, don't do this. Don't go up. That is suicide.'
Encouraged, we go up.
Then, I face what would be my personal suicide. Or homicide by the mountain.
I'd had my thigh taped up three weeks earlier for a torn tendon. Two days ago, I removed the tape.
slip
fall
ow
There we go. I've pulled it, or, even better, torn it again. I bite my lip and go on. I wanna make it to the top, wherever we decide to place the top.
We make it above the treeline. We want to make it to that next hill. Then, up on that next peak. And that one next peak is too much for my tendon. I collapse then and there, panting in pain and even more so in frustration. The top is reachable, it's so close, yet... I can't. I've already pushed it for an hour, and I can't.
4 people go on forward. I stay on this peak along with one of the friends. (Thank you. It would have sucked being alone there.)

In about 20 minutes, we start making our way down. The others are still taking selfies on the peak. We go in silence, interrupted only by an occasional 'ow' and 'slippery' and 'watch out' and 'let's call the helicopter'.
Somewhere way down, the other four catch up on us. At this point, the way we walk is crippled. A Walking Song from Lord of The Rings is playing over and over again.

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate
And though I oft have passed them by
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon and East of the Sun

Why be cocky against a mountain?