Tossing my proverbial Easter cookies

My family is awesome. We have a lot of good things going for us. But one of those things, I’m afraid, is not outdoorsiness–by any stretch of the imagination. Dad, in particular, has made it clear that he would not suffer if he never had to leave a paved area again in his life. I think Mom, on the other hand, has repressed outdoorsy tendencies, but because of Dad’s resounding lack of enthusiasm and our generally busy schedule, we have done approximately zero outdoorsy things together as a family.

Fortunately (I guess), I have many friends who seek to correct this situation by dragging me along on “adventures” that I swear up and down I will HATE–that is, until I give in and go along and discover that they are FUN. These adventures have included but are not limited to: camping, hiking, visiting creeks and waterfalls, and sleeping out on a trampoline one summer night. Most of these occasions have stories associated with them that are worthy of their own posts: but I have one story in particular I want to tell.

Last night, Natalie called me up. “Erin! How would you like to go with me on the EASTER SUNRISE hike tomorrow morning?” People (crazy people) in my church have been making the hike up Spencer’s Butte on Easter morning for untold numbers of years. Every year one or other of my friends was going along, and every once in a while one of them would try to convince me to come. I successfully avoided going until four years ago, when enough of my friends were going that I finally gave in to peer pressure and grudgingly agreed to be ready to go at some unholy hour of the morning. By the time we left, I was actually pretty excited about the hike, mostly because I’d never done anything like it before. Oh, the adventure! This lasted until we actually started hiking. When we started off from the parking lot at the bottom of Spencer’s Butte, the sky was dark gray. After we reached the top and stood around for a little while, it was light gray. The sunrise must have happened somewhere in there, but we certainly didn’t see it. In the meantime, I was utterly exhausted from the hike up (this is my Julian blood showing itself) and standing around freezing my tail off, shaking from the cold and wind and wishing I had never come on this darned fool adventure in the first place.

So you understand my reluctance, as I stood there last night hemming and hawing and making up excuses for why I couldn’t go today. But Natalie, in her persuasive, wily, little Natalie ways quickly convinced me that I wanted to go… in fact, she almost made it sound like my idea. And that is how I found myself sludging my way out of bed at 5:00 am this morning. And once again, I found myself excited about the adventure–this time I was bringing my camera! Unphased by the hiking, I was just looking forward to the picture-taking opportunities at the top. And with this peppy attitude, I began our hike convinced that it would be a piece of cake. That is, until we actually started walking up an incline. THAT was just too much. As I huffed, puffed, and wheezed my way to the top, I was haunted by memories of my friend Thad telling us how he had recently hiked Spencer’s Butte… REPEATEDLY. ALL DAY. I don’t remember how many times he actually made the circuit, but it was way more than one, which is the number of laps that I was currently having a hard time completing.

I had to stop to catch my breath several times during our uphill trek, and by the time I reached the top I was feeling a little bit queasy. I figured this was a natural consequence of the fact that my body had just exerted itself one thousand times more than it had, total, in the past MONTH. But as I stood there, watching the sunrise and fumbling for my camera to capture the beauty, I realized the queasiness wasn’t going away. In fact, it had turned into naseousness. Actually, I was feeling downright sick. “Natalie,” I croaked, (I was shaking pretty badly now) “I think I have to throw up.” “What?” “I think I have to throw up!” “Are you sure?” “Yes! I have to throw up!” She quickly shepherded me over to a secluded corner of the mountain top. And before I could even think about it, or bend down, or anything, my proverbial Easter cookies were all over the snow. Gross.

The worst part is, I thought nobody except Natalie (poor Natalie) witnessed this horrendous scene, but as I turned away from the sickening puddle in the snow, I looked up and saw a scruffy, bearded man sitting on the rocks above us: obviously another hiker who was not in our party. As I looked up at him, he stared back at me with the eyes of someone who has just witnessed a train wreck and really, really wanted to look away, but just couldn’t. Dear bearded man who had to watch me toss my proverbial Easter cookies: I’m sorry. Really really sorry. Trust me.

On the upside, however, this year was not another gray, overcast, disappointing morning. We were treated with a gorgeous sunrise, and light that allowed me to take some great pictures at the top. And, honestly, that made it all worthwhile for me. So, Nata, you might have a shot at convincing me to come next year. Click here to see the set of photos I took this morning. Here are a few of the best:

Happy Easter, everyone. Thank you, God, for the gift of your Son, and for the beautiful sunrise you showed us this morning. Also for making me throw up. Because now I have a really cool story to tell.

Posted on Sunday, April 16th, 2006 at 9:31 pm.
Belongs with: Happening Things, Silly Things, Photo Things.
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