Day 283: The Hike From Hell, Part II.

Bill tries to figure out our next step at what became The Point of Absolute Return.

It started off as a short hike. An easy hike. One that would take an hour or so.

That's not exactly how it turned out.

It probably comes as no surprise that I didn't want to go. Another hike with the Marshall clan? After the way the last one turned out? But hey - if a family from New York City (that would be Rob, Annie and their 11-year-old daughter Elise) and the Marshall kids (Tina, 7, Josephine, 9, and Napoleon, 12) are game, I kind of have no choice. Besides, despite all my whining, the Hawaii hike was pretty much the greatest thing ever.

In the beginning, our biggest worry was that our shoes were going to get wet. Usually (I'm told), the High Tour hike goes up the middle of a mostly dry creekbed, but thanks to recent rains, the creek had swollen to something of a small river. We decided to give it a shot anyway, since there was both a beautiful view at the top and an easy hike down the other side. My biggest personal concern was for my camera and cell phone, both of which were in a small (and very non-waterproof) case around my shoulder.

Within about 30 seconds, our feet were wet. Complaining remained at a minimum, though - we were on an adventure! The first time we had to cross the creek, we took it in stride. Okay, so the rocks were a bit slippery and the water was rushing by at a pretty decent pace. We were on an adventure! Then came the part where we had to edge our way along a ledge, cross the creek in water up to our waist (I held my camera bag in my teeth), and use a rope to pull ourselves up a gnarly wall of rock. Bill was there to pick the little kids up and haul them over the difficult spots. He's like Superman. He'd keep us all safe.

Besides ... we were on an adventure!


Napoleon and Josephine clamber up the rocks.


Elise braves a river crossing as Napoleon and Josephine forge ahead.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment in which the general mood started to go downhill, but it was somewhere between the time Rob's cell phone became submerged, our feet froze into little blocks of ice, and Annie almost slid into the water. Oh - and did I mention that we'd brought Walter (the dog), that Walter has a gimpy leg, and that Samantha had to carry him the entire time? Or that Josephine's shoe fell off and was lost downriver? There were a few tears (no, not mine) as everyone began to realize that conditions were getting more dangerous the higher we got. Turning back, however, didn't seem like a good idea either - none of us relished the idea of facing some of the hairier moments we'd already been through all over again. Among the adults, an unspoken feeling of concern began to creep into the picture. This was only confirmed (for me, ayway) by the fact that Samantha, other than reassuring the kids, pretty much stopped talking altogether. It's not that Samantha is a big talker (she's actually fairly judicious with her words), but when she goes completely silent, something is very wrong indeed.

Then we reached what I like to call "The Point of Absolute Return," a fairly sheer wall of rock that rose out of a raging corridor of water. There was a rope (more like a clothesline) tied to a tree near the top, but when Bill made a dangerous climb up to grab it and test it for strength, it broke. Now what would we do? The kids wanted to call 911 (my phone was, remarkably, still dry). Even Napoleon, an adrenaline junkie who fears nothing, began to request 911. I have to admit, I was thinking the same thing. I couldn't quite figure out how they'd save us (Where would the helicopter land? Would they drop rope ladders from a hovering helicopter? Wait ... was I too heavy for a rope ladder?), but I was ready to find out.

That's when a moment I will never forget occured. Tina was scared, crying and shivering, and a justifiable meltdown was in sight. Bill came over to her, knelt down, and looked into her eyes. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll get you out of this. I promise." They stared at each other for a moment, she nodded, and then her tears stopped. It was really quite something to see.

The funny thing was, I suddenly felt better, too.

We decided there was no choice but to go back the way we came, and it was not an easy trek. But every single person on that hike stepped up, and we took it moment by moment. Bill led the way, ferrying the little girls when necessary and talking us through the dicier challenges. All I can say is there's no one on this earth I'd rather be with in a situation like that, and Rob made for an excellent wingman.


Annie navigates her way down a tricky stretch.

When the last person had made it safely through the last dangerous part, a feeling of triumphant relief set in. By the time we finally reached the car (a mere three hours after starting), we were talking as if we were army buddies who'd just survived a treacherous battle. We yakked about it the entire way home, reliving the worst moments as we reveled in our safety.

What really killed me, though, were Josephine's words once we were all back at the lake house, warming up in the hot tub.

"That was fun," she said, displaying the resilience kids have that never fails to floor me.

Fun? In a way - a slim way - it sort of was, but still, that's just not the right word for it.

It was, however, most definitely an adventure.