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Hike On

By: Luke W. Johnson

The tree cover became less dense. Our altitude decreased with each step. The dust trailed behind us. The sun started to become more intense and sweat dripped down our faces. We were beginning to see the drop-off: it was magnificent! The setting was beautiful as rocks, cacti, yucca plants, and aloe vera lined the edges of the trail under the New Mexican sun. It had been eleven days and sixty miles, filled with constant pain; we were finally nearing the end. The infinite, gravel, switchbacks finally became a countable number. Suddenly, there it was, the sun shone on it like the open gates of heaven. I could see civilization, honest to God civilization! The tan buildings with red roofs, endless rows of tents, and shower houses! All I can remember thinking was, I will make it this time!

Hike on. It all started back in the summer of 2021. I was fifteen and set out on a new journey. I had never been away from home for long, a week at most. Now, I was hiking in New Mexico with a crew of people from my Boy Scout troop. We had always dreamed of coming out to the Philmont Scout Reservation. Acres upon acres of mostly undisturbed land. Philmont was the closest you could get to seeing the world in its unaltered and natural state. We all wore giant backpacks with many pounds of gear attached. I remember the buckle of my backpack was so big that it held up my baggy athletic shorts. We had been hiking for around six days, and just climbed the peak of Mount Baldy: the highlight of our sixty-mile backpacking trek. So far it had been a wet, slippery, mud bath of a trek. If you were not soaking wet from rain, you would be soaked in sweat. After we had climbed the mountain, the weather drastically changed. The struggles began with the weather being hot, arid, and dry. It all started with dehydration; I have never been one to drink much water. Then, of course, came the main problem: nose bleeds. My nose would bleed like a faucet, gushing like a waterfall out of my nose. They continued to intensify, resulting in forty-to-sixty-minute periods where I would be combating my nose. I must have gone through boxes upon boxes of tissues. The taste of iron never left my mouth. I always feared the moments when the rushes of warmth would traverse to the front of my nose. Nonetheless, I forced myself to continue. I was not going to be pulled from the trail, or so I thought.

Hike on. It was day nine. We were hiking through a desert. Burnt-looking twigs of plants were far and few. The tree cover was non-existent. I remember trying to stay hydrated. However, I never drank enough. BOOM! Suddenly, my knee gave out, crashing into the gravely rock of the path.

“Are you okay?” Someone questioned.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” I replied. 

I got back up, slightly unbalanced. Something felt strangely off.

An adult cried out, “Dude, your knee is bleeding!”

I looked down and to my horror, the skin on my right knee was missing; replaced by a bloody, puss-filled hole. Momentarily, I began to freak out. I decided to take a deep breath. It is day nine, I have two days left, I am not going to give up now! Hike on. We bandaged up my leg. The bandage was useless, falling off due to the heat and position of the wound. I ripped off the bandage and continued to traverse the dusty, gravely, rock path. It was extremely hot now, near a hundred degrees. The sun beat down on us like an ant under a magnifying glass. The rest of the day flew by, filled with exhaustion. In the following morning, everything went wrong.

I woke up, my knee sticky from puss, body aching, and extremely thirsty. I sat up. Fear arose inside me as a warm rush flooded out of both of my nostrils. I began to shiver.

“Dude, you need to go to the infirmary! I cannot see you go on like this!” My tentmate exclaimed.

He is right, there is no way I can continue. As determined as I am, this is a bad idea. I decided to speak to my crew. We all decided it would be best to take me a mile back to the nearest staff camp. From there, I was assisted back to base camp. Looking back, I am glad I chose to go back, if I had not, I would have endangered myself. I also would have had a vastly different mindset for my next trek. After the letdown of not making it to the finish line, I only had one thought: I get one more chance at this, and next time I am going to cross that finish line, no matter what! Hike on.

Before returning to Philmont in 2023, I decided to fix my nosebleed issue. This involved getting a painful and long-winded surgery known as septoplasty. The recovery was awful. I had to sleep sitting straight up for nine days, drifting in and out of consciousness. The medication caused me to hallucinate, react at the speed of a sloth, and lose my appetite. The entire time I only thought of one thing: this may be awful now, but this August, I will complete the trek! Hike on.

The septoplasty worked, I did not have a single nosebleed for the entirety of the trek! However, there were many other obstacles I had to face. The first major obstacle was a Covid-19 scare. On our first day of the trek, one of our sister crew members became ill with Covid. They held him back at base camp. There were rumors that both of our crews would have to return home to ensure the safety and well-being of other trekkers and ourselves. We were distraught. This is my last chance. If I do not complete the trek this time, I will be a failure. How can I become an Eagle Scout if I cannot complete a hike? The discouragement continued as the evening storms rolled in. Rain pounded against our tents, bodies, personal gear, and equipment. BOOM! CRASH! 

“Lighting position everyone!” Our ranger yelled.

I must have heard these words five to ten times in the first few days of our trek. We would crouch with our heels together. It was said that this position would channel a lightning bolt through our bodies and into the ground. Even if that is the case, my bag will be struck, causing an explosion of the white gas canister I am carrying! If I get struck, there will be no survival; we should just go home.

The weather led up about three days into our trek. To make matters even better, no one else fell ill. Hike on. I remember breathtaking views, jokes, conversations, and many activities, as week as the hardships. The awful meals provided by Philmont, the stomach issues that followed. I remember the pains from the blisters I had gained, hiking regardless. I remember the long days followed by minimal sleep. We would head to sleep around 11 pm and wake up as early as 3:30 am on some occasions. The toughest day was the day we hiked twelve miles. Hiking twelve miles was no big deal... until you added in elevation. We climbed not one but two mountains that day. The views were stunning, mountains piercing the skies. Birds flew from one tree to the next. The air was so pure, nothing like back at home. Hike on.

On the descent things took a turn. One of our adult chaperones and his son began to develop elevation sickness. This resulted in cutting many activities out of the remainder of our trek. The discouragement was high, but we hiked on. I remember a day when our sister crew was able to see the wreckage of a World War II bomber. Being an aspiring pilot, I had been so excited to see the plane for the entirety of the trek. When I found out I would not be able to, because of the chaperone and his son feeling ill, I was extremely disappointed. What was even worse was when the other crew taunted me with the pictures and views of the plane. However, I remained calm and remembered my true goal. Hike on.

Luckily, on the last day of our trek, we were still able to climb the Tooth of Time - the signature mountain of Philmont. The moment I witnessed when the sun rose over the horizon is a moment I will never forget. The sky orange, streaked with clouds, the valleys, and forests below us. We are on top of the world! There was only one thing left to do: complete the trek. 

Sweat dripped down our faces from intense heat and sunlight, the tree cover diminished, and the dust trailed behind us. Base camp was in sight; the shower houses, rows of tents, the red-roofed tan buildings with running water and electricity, I felt a wave of excitement wash over me. 

“Is anyone not ready?” I exclaimed eagerly.

“Hike on!” We all yelled. 

We barreled down the trail. I was practically running to the gate. There were two posts with a huge sign reading: WELCOME BACK! I high fived the sign; a wave of joy and relief washed over me. I made it! I actually made it this time!