Together (21 page)

"Brenden,"
she said, taking his hand, "when we ski, I can't get over how much you get
out of sharing the sport. You use all of your other senses. I mean, you've
taught me so much about how to feel and listen, smell, and even taste. You're
the guy who broke down the wine tonight, talking about its bouquet and all of
its nuances. I certainly hadn't thought about any of that very much. Isn't it
possible that the mountains could offer you new sensory levels that you hadn't
considered before? It seems to me everything else in life does."

Brenden
thought about it. "So what you're telling me is that I should get right
back up on the horse and ride?"

"I think
that's what she means, pal," Charlie said, "and I'd be happy to climb
with you. I'm sure we could figure out how to do it."

"Well,
that's just the point, Charlie. If I were ever going to climb again, I'd still
want to feel that I was sort of doing it on my own."

As if on cue,
Nelson stood and shook himself. Brenden called him.

"Come
here, Nelson. Come here, boy."

The big dog
immediately came to his master, dropping his head on the man's knee.

"Are you
telling me you'd like to climb a mountain, Nelson?" Brenden asked.
"Because if I'm going to do it, I'd like to share it with you."

"How
would that work?" Charlie asked.

"Oh,
we'd climb together, Charlie," Brenden said. "I'm not about to go up
there alone, but maybe I could build some kind of special harness that would
allow me to follow Nelson from directly behind. That way when the track gets
narrow or we need to step up over rocks, I could read him. I'll talk to Smitty
about it."

The
trainer was intrigued when
Brenden called.

"Hm,"
he said. "Well, I don't know much about climbing mountains, but if you
want to work from directly behind Nelson and get the most possible flexibility,
it seems to me that you'd want a two-handled harness. This would give you the
ability to gain your balance from exactly the way the dog moved. It would also
allow you to be even more sensitive to the angles when you step up or down. The
harness would have to be quite a bit longer, so that when you go downhill you
can still stand somewhat straight up. I mean, you wouldn't want to be reaching
all the way down to Nelson's back, causing you to tip forward. Am I
right?"

"I think
you got it, Smitty," Brenden said. "I think that's exactly what I
need."

"Let me
work on it," the trainer said. "Let's see what the boys in the shop
can come up with."

Two weeks
later, the device arrived. Smitty made it about three times the length of a
standard harness with three separate two-grip handles spread out along the
shaft. This way Brenden could be as close or as far from the animal as needed,
depending on the pitch and the angle of the mountain he climbed. Also, Smitty
attached clip links to the harness that would allow Brenden, if necessary, to
tie equipment or climbing ropes to the big dog just in case they came to a
place where the man had to feel his way up a rock face and then help the animal
clamber up.

"Wow,"
Charlie said, studying the apparatus. "This guy really thought it through
when he figured out that both of you might need to help each other. Now look,
Brenden, if we're really going to do this, I'm going to be right there with
you."

"I know,
Charlie," Brenden said, "but it's really important to me that Nelson
and I handle this ourselves. I won't be stupid. If we encounter a problem we
can't solve, I'll ask you for help. And I'll certainly be asking for
directions. This whole thing is about interdependence, like Smitty always said.
We need to be able to rely on each other. Actually, I think that's the way all
of life's supposed to work."

Charlie
shrugged. "Okay, pal, but you know I'm right there for you."

Brenden
clapped his friend on the shoulder. "And we're right there for you too,
Charlie."

They both
laughed.

They decided
that their first climb would be up Grays and Torreys, two fourteeners. They
knew these were easy climbs, really just walks in the park for physically fit
young climbers. But as Brenden found out quickly, the problem with teaching
Nelson to guide over this kind of rough terrain was that the dog's instinct was
not to go for it. To him, the loose rocks and angled steps were too dangerous
for his master.

And so the
day began with a problem. Nelson would not allow Brenden to make progress up
the mountain, and no matter how much the man asked the dog to go forward, his
friend said absolutely not.

"How do
we get him going?" Charlie asked.

"Well,"
Brenden said, thinking about it, "the issue is you don't want to confuse
his instinct to take care of me, get him pulling too hard and taking chances.
But we have to encourage him that I want to do this. So here's what we'll try.
At least for a while, Charlie, I'll follow you, holding on to your climbing
rope, and I'll let Nelson be independent. Let's see what that does."

After about
fifteen minutes of climbing, with the dog moving on his own, the men once again
put the harness back on and encouraged the guide dog to follow Charlie. Though
he was still careful, this time he got it, and Brenden was overjoyed as they
snaked their way up toward the summit, never missing a step.

Charlie found
it uncanny that the dog could pick out loose rock even better than the humans.
The animal seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to placing his feet just
so, and when Brenden followed him carefully, the blind man actually climbed
over loose stone better than Charlie.

Arriving at
the top, Brenden took it all in, and Charlie wished Kat were there to see his
smile.

"Wow,"
he said to his friend. "Charlie, this is awesome. Can you hear the trout
stream down below?"

Charlie
listened. "Now I can"—he laughed—"because you pointed it
out."

"And how
about the smell of the pines? The wind is just right, and even though we're
above timberline; can you smell them? And the air up here." Brenden took a
deep breath. "It tastes so fresh and light. You know what, Charlie? Even
the rock we're sitting on feels good, old and warm and good."

The young men
were quiet, thinking their own thoughts but bonded—as they had been since
boyhood—in the shared experience of the outdoors. Only the sound of the big
dog's panting broke the silence, but he, too, seemed at one, relishing the
beauty of this exquisite environment.

Brenden was
surprised to find the climb down much harder. Even though Smitty's harness
worked correctly, he often was forced to reach down when Nelson stepped off an
outcropping, and there was something frightening about groping in space for the
next footfall. Climbing up, he decided, had been much easier because everything
was in front of you. Going down, the trust factor between man and animal had to
be even greater.

And often
Brenden felt, as he searched for a footfall hold, that he was placing the dog
under great stress, torquing the harness as he tried to find the appropriate
purchase for his feet.

"What do
you think, Charlie?" he asked on one of their breaks. "Do you think
all of this works? Am I putting too much pressure on Nelson?"

"It's
amazing to watch him, Brenden. When he knows that you're not sure of your
balance point, he drops down, almost onto his haunches, and spreads his paws
out so he's as solid as the rocks up here. Talk about adapting, Nelson really
has it together."

"Thanks,
Charlie," Brenden said. "I just wanted to make sure."

By the time
they reached the bottom, Brenden's confidence was as high as the fourteener
they had just summited. He believed he could return to the Maroon Bells. He
believed he could make the climb on North Maroon that had cost him his
eyesight, and he believed he could do it sharing with his two friends—the man
he had known since childhood and the dog who had given him back his life.

chapter twenty-two

Brenden
couldn't sleep. He and Charlie drove to the Crater Lake campground to get an
early start on the North Maroon climb. The blind man accepted the idea that as
he worked his way up with Nelson, the overall climb would take considerably
longer than when he had sight. In fact, they doubled the time allotted to
complete the ascent and descent of the mountain. They figured if they left at
first light, around 5:30 a.m., and assuming a ten-hour climb with an hour of
rest, they could get down by four or five in the afternoon, barring any
complications.

It was
mid-September, so they were still operating under daylight savings time, with
sunset not occurring until around seven fifteen, plenty of margin.

They also
decided to carry sleeping bags, an additional layer of warm clothing, and food
rations just in case they were forced to spend the night on the mountain. As
experienced climbers, neither of them took anything for granted when dealing
with the capricious nature of the sport.

So why was
Brenden feeling so much anxiety? Why was he lying awake in the dark? The big
dog lying at his side was probably wondering the same thing because he, too,
was awake, as always, supporting his master at all times and through any
changes in the man's emotions.

As Charlie
snored on, oblivious to his friend's tossing and turning, Brenden tried to
figure out what was causing his anxiety. Was it fear of failure? He didn't
think so. Was it the memories of his accident?
Not
really
, he
thought. It all happened so fast. The painful memories were only about his
post-accident trauma, not the fall itself. So why was his stomach churning, and
why was he awake? He remembered his football days and how he felt the night
before a big game. Was this the same thing? Not really.

His coach
once told him that there were two kinds of nervousness that people could
experience when preparing to take on a major life moment. You felt instructive
nerves when you were very secure in what you were going to do. In these cases
your nerves weren't concerned with the consequence of your effort or the
possibility of failing. They were only about playing the game to the best of
your ability. Brenden remembered that at those moments his emotion was always
to "bring it on, let's get started" because he was secure in his
ability to quarterback the team.

He knew that
people felt destructive nerves when they weren't sure of their talent, or when
the fear of failure became more central than the belief in achieving the goal.

As he tossed
and turned, Brenden decided that the best way to deal with his concerns was to
commit to the certainty that he and Nelson were a team, and that the team was
unbeatable.

Finally he
fell asleep. But when five o'clock came around and Charlie touched his
shoulder, he found himself immediately alert with so much adrenaline pumping
through his system that he wasn't tired at all. With the temperature hovering
around the freezing point, all three of the climbers were eager to get started.

This climb
was quite different for Nelson because of the nature of the rock steps that
wound their way to the top of the mountain. The animal quickly learned to stop
when the step was high, allowing the man to touch it with his hands, drop the
harness, and step up. The dog would then get a sort of running start and leap
up onto solid ground. Or, on a couple of occasions when the dog and the man
assessed that the leap was a little too high, Brenden would give the animal a
boost from behind until he gained his balance on the top of a ledge.

This was not
to say that the man helped the dog more than the animal helped him, but as
Charlie watched, he was fascinated at the ease with which the two supported
each other. In the eight months the man and dog had been together, it was
obvious to Charlie that their bond was completely based on trust, and it was
that trust that made their work such a process of sharing.

Arriving at
Crater Lake, the men stopped for an energy bar and some Gatorade with both of
them truly appreciating the beauty of the place.

Here they
were at 9,600 feet, overlooking a deep mountain lake as clear as could be found
anywhere in the world. The water was pure enough to drink, and it reminded
Brenden of how fresh water really could taste as he took in large gulps. Nelson
joined him in the refreshing drink, lapping until he was satisfied.

After
absorbing the water, a shiver ran down Brenden's spine.

"Hey,
Charlie," he asked, "do you think the temperature is still dropping?
I mean, where's the sun?"