It’s the hardest hike in the county. That’s what they say.
El Cajon Mountain is a carnival ride. The trail dips and rises.
Altitude gained, altitude lost again as you seek the summit.
Our hiking group had Duane, who talked nonstop
And Dave, who wore no shirt in February
And cheerful Michelle, the happy news channel.
We saw vistas of distant mountains and bundles of clouds
That cast a dappled shade on the valley floor
Until we reached the top where fog was all around us.
Yellow bush poppies and lilacs grew from the rocky soil
And they graced our 11-mile walk over shifting gravel and dust.
I slid downhill and I fell on my ass and fell face forward
Because the worn soles of my boots couldn’t get a grip on the ground.
You can turn around halfway. That’s what they say.
But that sinful pride pushes you forward until your quads are wailing
Like I couldn’t take another step. Though maybe, if I had to.
My long life has been a journey that took me here
Where I still don’t know what my heart really wants
Though it may be love or it may be peace-of-mind,
Or maybe just knowing someday I can climb this stupid rock
With a light step and a smile and say nah! It wasn’t so bad.
I’ll try it again in two weeks ’cause I’ll be ready next time
And I’ll know the way. That’s what they say.
CUL-DE-SAC 