In preparation for this historic stroll I awoke at 7 a.m., yawned a
couple of times, and went back to sleep for half an hour. Then I ate
breakfast, read the morning paper, got those old gray pants out of the
back of the car and, as a final gesture, put them on.
Also I filled up the little chamois pack sack which That Girl made for
my gallant walk through the Rockies last year from the United States to
Canada.
In this pack sack I put an extra sweater, four hankerchiefs (because I
still have a cold), an extra pair of socks, two Hershey bars, two
oranges, an old ham sandwich, and an extra pack of cigarettes, in case
my wind gave out.
I did not take my sun glasses, nor a camera, nor a bottle of water, nor
a ten-pound toilet kit, nor my new tuxedo, since past experience as an
Alpinist has shown that such things are all a lot of nonsense.
It was 9:20 a.m. when I stepped out of Ranger Edwards’ car, shook hands,
and, without once looking back, plunged into the jungle. Exciting
experiences were not long in coming.
I hadn’t gone 200 yards when I came upon two couples standing in the
trail, talking. They didn’t see me coming, so I had to walk around them.
As I did so one woman said, “Oh excuse me,” and I said, “That’s all
right.”
Fifty yards farther on I came upon a man with a cane, sitting against a
tree. He said, “Are those people still gabbing back there?” and I said,
“Yes,” and he said, “I thought so.”
When I had been walking an hour and a half, I met two young men coming
down the trail like rockets. We stopped and smoked a cigarette together.
They had walked clear to the top already this morning, and were well on
their way back down, and it was now only 10:45. It was then I began to
smell a mouse in Mr. Edwards’ sinister warnings about the trail.
“How far along am I?” I asked. It was my impression I was barely getting
started.
“Oh, you’re half way there,” they said.
“And the trail ahead, how is it?” I asked.
“No steeper than you’ve come over,” they said. By that time Mr. Edwards’
mouse smelled real bad. But I was glad, too, for if there’s one thing I
like about a mountain trail it’s for there not to be much more of it. I
lunged on, and disappeared around a bend.