The Why of it All

Humping a load
through morning chill and darkness,
it’s off to the hills we go.
Alloy hangs clanking (sweet music to my ears!)
from nylon loops strong as whatever.
Sticky, stinky, ill-fitting shoes
and sturdy, wide-mouth vessels.
Healthy snacks that taste like dirt,
and a tattered little book—
just barely decipherable—
to guide us along the way.

The traveled trail aims upward now
and thighs begin to burn.
Lungs become bellows
as cheerful banter gets exchanged
for huff and puff, huff and puff.
But just in time, a second wind
arrives to see the journey through.
Then packs are shed, wet brows get wiped…
So grateful for morning coffee!

Rack the gear and check the book,
stack the rope, where in hell’s the route?
Shaded eyes scan the wall
while fingers dip nervously in the chalk.
Musn’t tell, but last night's sleep came late...
Do anticipation and apprehension
always go hand-in-hand?
But the moment’s arrived, it’s time to cast off.
First a hand, then a foot,
and, suddenly, the why of it all
is crystal clear once more.
It’s so damn good to be back on the rock!