How bloggers have time to post everyday is beyond me. But here I am again, delayed due to "too much job" and then a wonderful vacation hiking Yosemite.
On the first day of my Yosemite vacation, I took my brother's advice and hiked up towards Half Dome and half died. Or at least my feet did. Clearly, I need to work out a lot more before going straight up and straight down. I was fried. 
The next day with big toe blisters, an allergic reaction to something on my ankles, muscles like silly putty, never having reached the summit of Half Dome for the obvious reason that it is just too far up, I decided for a calmer, easier route on a less traveled path. (During which another climber took a photo of me with the prior day's elusive big rock behind me.) :-)
Most the day, I didn't see anyone else on the lower trail. I went leisurely, took a nap perched on a cliff wishing I was with that elusive one love of my life (Where the heck is he anyway?) Snapped a thousand pictures, munched snacks, stopped frequently to catch the views and give my big toes loads of sympathy. 
Or went upside down to avoid my toes.
But then I thought, geez, I've been hiking forever. Looked at the map and realized I had never crossed the supposed stream I was supposed to have crossed a long time ago. Never came anywhere near anything resembling water.
I was lost.
So I took off running as I was running out of daylight, so if I had to back track I was going to have to run hard and long. Imagined myself as headlines "dumb chick out hiking on short easy trail gets lost. Apparently, her wobbly office-job legs gave out and she fell into canyon. Someone in the valley was reported to have heard a sound something like 'kerplunk.' "
Turns out I wasn't lost.
Ran into an older man when the trail finally intersected another route. I was very happy to see him -- he and I both hopelessly out of breath.
He and I spoke for a while. One thing I notice when traveling alone, people just talk to you and they tell you things, lots of things, like you're the friend they've always had and trusted.
He was in the Air Force for years, retired, now 70 years old. Boom operator, fueled B52's headed for Hanoi and the spy plane SR-71.
I learned he wanted nothing more than to return to work. "I'm 70 years old. I'd like to walk into a recruiting station and apply again, but they'd just laugh." He missed working, he missed doing that job, he wanted back in. Quiet retirement wasn't his game.
The morning of the day I ran into him, he'd watched hang gliders take off Glacier Point to land in the valley. He wanted in. "But I had to live vicariously today."
As a veteran of the Vietnam War, he considered the leadership of the Vietnam war a mistake, they weren't there to win. But that we needed to be in Iraq. And we were there to succeed. He said it tentatively, as though he was expecting me to be a typical Californian and launch into an anti-Iraq tirade.
But I didn't. Instead I expressed frustration that Iraq news reporting is deceptive, poorly done, often wrong. I explained my view of the sixties generation, that too many of them are now media leaders and are desperately clinging to their ideology. They simply can't report good news from Iraq as doing so threatens and goes against everything they've fought for since their hippie days of pot smoking war rants. I said the media battle will be fought tooth and nail, viciously by them, simply just so they don't have to admit the premise of their youth was a faulty, narrow ideology.
He said, "Well I was one of those in uniform. Who they spit on. Threw rocks at." When he said that, he was looking out at Yosemite's Sentinel Dome, El Capitan in the distance. A man of calm resolve, he wasn't beaten.
He had just a hiked a long path, a different one than I, insisted that before I leave the park that I must take that hike, exclaiming that the view was beautiful, far more beautiful than what the crowds drive out to see.
At the end of the day, unlike me, he wasn't in a rush. We were back at the trail head parking. He was staying at that altitude to catch the dome at sunset. He was packed with gratitude, a bit of wisdom, and tenacity to keep flying.
As a hiker by myself, I had been admittedly a bit frightened during my momentary panic of being lost at dusk, so I was never so glad as to see that guy. "Rescued" by a SR-71 boom operator, a Yosemite Hero. That's a good day in my book.
I thanked him for his service, explaining that people never can be thanked enough. He said, "Aw, I don't know."
I drove off, we waved goodbye, he stayed to catch the sunset and a beautiful one it was. God rewarded him with a deep sunset, dusted with the colors of Fall leaves, and valley view of beautiful enormous stones that not even an angry, hate filled war ranter can throw. A man of kindness, he deserved it.
Another great adventure! Glad that you were delayed enough to enjoy Yosemite.
Maybe, just maybe, God put you right there in that spot to give that man the thanks he needed to hear. "coincidence is Gods way of remaining anonymous".
Now, play time is over! Get back to writing!
Faith and Smiles!
Posted by: Ky Woman | October 25, 2007 at 09:17 PM