A little over a year later.

One month from today I’ll be back in Uganda a trip that I had planned on taking this past March but due to a new job and a move that same month a trip to UG did not happen. I haven’t blogged since I left Uganda when I was wrought with emotion. Many of you probably don’t know this but I’m not inherently a crier…my siblings could probably tell you how many times they have seen me cry, friends who have known me most of my life the same. The night I left Uganda it was ugly as I was hugging my dear friends Josephine and Jack goodbye it took all I had to walk into the airport, check my bags and clear customs. I remember the words of the Customs lady “oh a lot of people cry when they leave Uganda, but you can come back anytime”.  “okkkkkkkkkkkk.” I said, through big ugly crocodile tears.

When I came back to the US I was bound and determined to find a way to make adopting Mahadi a reality. I had come off the road, I was looking for a “real” job and a place to call my own, you know so when the US social worker started to do their evaluation of my life they’d see that I wasn’t a swinging bachelorette traveling 200 days/year and but instead a responsible 9-5er with the ability to provide stability for a little boy. I also contacted numerous adoption agencies in the US none who were willing to take a case of a single woman wanting to adopt a boy in Uganda. Uganda only allows single women to adopt girls, not that it hasn’t happened where a single woman has adopted a boy but the cases are few and exceptional. US Adoption agencies want a slam dunk not a challenge, which I understand. But I would get so pissed when they’d say oh but you can adopt a girl, I’d reply back I’m sorry but I don’t believe you read my email, this little boy right here in this photo, he’s mine.

As I learned more about international adoption I also learned that US immigration would not classify Mahadi as an orphan because both of his parents are still alive. Attempting to adopt Mahadi would require asking them to relinquish their parental rights, a request I’m not prepared to ask. A large part of this next trip is to spend time with Mahadi’s mother. I want to learn about her and her life. Many, most, all of us westerners don’t understand the sheer poverty in third world countries until we’ve seen it with our own eyes and even then I’m not sure we can fully grasp the choices that have to be made on a daily basis for many in other nations.

I also emailed with a woman who is “in” the orphan industry so to speak and one of the last points she said to me “It is not wise to separate a child from his siblings.  While this may seem ok now, the implications of that are far reaching over time for all parties involved.  I have seen many cases where the youngest child is adopted away from siblings, and it is very damaging to the children left behind and eventually to the adopted child.  And, the issues continue throughout the child's life.  I don't think that is something you would wish to be a part of.”

Of all the points she made, that one had the biggest impact. Is it right for me to take a child out of his environment to give him what I deem a healthier, happier life? What emotional damage could he sustain?

When Josephine came to visit last fall I asked her to start the process to get Mahadi’s birth certificate. Many people in Africa do not have birth certificates because they aren’t born in hospitals. I wanted to make sure we had copies of Mahadi’s birth certificate if only so when he turns 18 it is easier for him to leave the country, whether to go to college or to come to visit. Imagine my delight when I saw the picture of Mahadi holding his birth certificate and his birthday unknown to me until then, March 28, 2008…just 31 years and 6 days after my first birthday. Both Aries.

In August the Monday of Bonnie’s wedding week, I received an email from Josephine and it hit me like a brick…someone a girl from Australia wanted to adopt Mahadi. As I read the email in my office, it felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach, the room was spinning and I was trying to not throw up all over myself. The pragmatic in me brought the room back from a tailspin and said “what if she’s married? What if she could provide him a better life than I could?” That lasted for 4.2 seconds and then I started looking for jobs in Uganda. If Bonnie’s wedding had not been that week, I’m fairly certain I would have been on a plane to Uganda that week. But once I learned more specifically that she was single, I didn’t feel I needed to flee for Uganda that day. Also knowing that nothing moves fast in Uganda ...my dear friend Jen reassured me what I already knew, Mahadi would not be leaving for Australia on the next Qantas flight. I promised that this news would not ruin my sister’s wedding week. I only told a few people this story…I also didn’t want to cause a witch hunt amongst all of my loyal FB friends who I’m fairly certain would protect Mahadi to the death as much as I would.  I affectionately call the other woman the Mahadi-napper to my friends…she and I are now FB friends..so she will read this and now know her nickname. SO BE NICE..PEOPLE.  My biggest concern when I found out the Mahadi-napper was interested in Mahadi was I didn’t want him to become a commodity to his family. Based on some conversations I have had with my Ugandan friends I think we have avoided that and I hope we continue, because the last thing I want a poverty stricken family to see is dollar signs when looking at their children. 

There are many days I consider moving to Uganda. But I love my new city and I really enjoy my job and the life that I’m creating here in the Bay Area. I’m not sure what my life would look like for both me and Mahadi in Uganda. If I moved to Uganda and made a commitment to be Mahadi’s everyday Mama…what would happen if I had to come back to the US for any length of time? Leave him there? What if I didn’t come back to Uganda, then what?  I wouldn’t be able to take him out of the country. The very last thing I want to do is cause any more emotional damage to this little boy.

The answers to our story are not simple and only time will tell how our lives will develop, but I do know the universe had something in store the day I laid my eyes on the photo of those two little “girls” in 2009.

The next 30 days are jam packed to say the least but I’m counting the minutes until I cross the Uganda customs line and see Josephine and Jack on the other side…two of the three best smiles in Uganda.

I also can’t wait to share the first 6 days with my friend Judy Wheeler. Wheeler is in for an adventure and I can’t wait to see how her eyes are opened to an experience of a lifetime…but not a “once in lifetime” experience. More on Wheeler in my next blog…I can guarantee you there will be some Thelma and Louise with a dash of Lucy and Ethyl kinda moments with the two of us in the UG.

Cheers!

April

Excuse me Lady, but is that a 5 year old in your carry on?!

Why I don't have a 5 year old in my carry on:

First of all it's not that easy, just because a child could be labeled as an orphan or neglected, Westerners don't just get to waltz into a country, strap a kid on their back and leave a new parent. For many good reasons, just like in the States there are steps to go through to adopt. A friend of mine frustrated said "you'd think it would be so easy?!", I explained to her that not everyone in the world has pure intentions of providing a safe and loving home for a child. If it was easy, there would be many more children forced into child labor/slavery, there would be many more well meaning Westerners while on vacation in an impoverished country thinking "gee it's a swell idea to give this child a home", only to get back to their country unaware and unprepared to deal with all the challenges that come along with adopting a child from a different culture, with little family background and the stresses of bringing a child into their world.

When I decided to tack on a trip to Uganda, I knew I wanted to be able to see Mahadi and Ja-ja, get the chance to spend a little time with him, make sure he was doing ok and see if there is anything I could provide for him. I did not expect to be one of those Westerners, who wanted to smuggle a 5 year old into her carry-on luggage upon her departure from Uganda. And as many of friends on Facebook encouraged, bring him home, I'll give you money, I'll help you raise him, along with the emotional toll of dropping this sweet sweet boy off at an orphanage with no electricity, with minimal daily meals and no one to give just him the love and attention he deserves, I found myself googling "International Adoption from Uganda" right before I went to bed Friday night.

The next morning after having a good night's sleep and the raw emotion not quite as severe, the realist in me took a better look at this picture.

--Both of Mahadi's parents are still alive, that alone is a MAJOR hurdle in adopting him. All of a sudden this Western girl with "money" in their eyes, who has an interest in Mahadi could quickly make them realize Mahadi is valuable. If and when the time comes for me or a Ugandan to ask them to relinquish their parental rights, it will have to be done very delicately.

--Let's get real I'm currently a swinging bachelorette. I live in a 2 bedroom apartment, with a roommate in Venice Beach. I travel 200 days a year on business, last I checked 5 year olds really aren't interested in sitting in on a Pharmaceutical company's general session. Sure if I was too get knocked up, I'd make loads of changes to raise that child...but is an Adoption agency or the Ugandan government really going to think in my present life that I'm a qualified parent!? I'm willing to start making changes that would make me more qualified on paper, but those changes aren't going to happen over night.

--Then there is the Ugandan government, adoptions are starting to become a little easier than in the past. It used to be you had to live in Uganda for 3 years with the child before you could legally adopt, but that rule has been relaxed. Single parents are now allowed to adopt.

--Oh yeah and let's tackle that single parent portion. I hear it's kind of hard work, do I think I could do it, actually I do. I also appreciate all of my friends who have said, move home, move here, I'll help you. Those offers I know are genuine, but when the reality of their own family's needs and wants come into play, I have to be prepared to do it on my own physically, emotionally and financially.

I'm in no way ruling out becoming Mahadi's mom, in fact that would be awesome if it did happen, but there are many things I need to learn about and decide on before it becomes real.

I have asked both Jack and Josephine that should anything happen to Mahadi's Ja-ja that they would let me know immediately. I told them I would take care of all the financial costs of transport, boarding school etc, if they would just promise to take care of him over holidays and such. They both have given me their word and I love them dearly for that.

I'm currently planning a trip to come back in March. I really want to learn more about Mahadi's parents, is it a situation of true poverty, illiteracy, or is there something else going on. One of my desires is to become more involved with educating and empowering women, maybe Mahadi's mother needs education, a micro finance loan to help her climb her way out of poverty, or maybe she is just a neglectful mother.

For those of you who have never traveled to a 3rd world country, until you've seen the poverty, the hunger and desperation for yourself, it's very easy to think "why don't they just get a job", "how could they abandon their child?", "why do they keep getting pregnant?" All questions that do not have simple answers.

Until I have a clearer picture, I will make sure Mahadi is taken care of from half way around the world and then we shall see where this adventure takes us.

The Wrap Up of my time spent with Mahadi

My time with Mahadi on Friday wrapped up all too fast:

I let Mahadi pick his shirt to wear in the morning. We got dressed and proceeded to walk out the door of my guesthouse room and the key was jammed. I have a major phobia of being locked in a room and started to panic, as the key would not turn nor come out of the lock. I was attempting to stay calm as I grabbed my phone to look up the number of the guest house, I didn't want to resort to banging on the door like a maniac, but that was about to come next as I looked at the windows and realized they were covered with iron bars, the terror of the building being on fire (even though it wasn't), was getting close to pushing me over the edge, luckily it didn't phase Mahadi one bit. The guest house staff came right up and opened up the adjoining room to my room and let us out as they figured out why my key was stuck.

After breakfast we spent some time reading, counting, singing Head n Shoulders, Knees n Toes, and barking like a big dog. There are many guard dogs in this neighborhood and boy do they bark. Mahadi's impression is priceless. Jack arrived to pick us up and Mahadi ran right into Jack's arms and gave him the biggest hug.

We started to make our way back to the orphanage, but not before we stopped to pick up deworming medicine from the pharmacy. Jack and I both think Mahadi could have worms again, as he nearly eats everything insight and he sort of has the tell tale belly but not as bad as he used to have.

As we drove closer to the orphanage Mahadi's demeanor changed, he got quiet again and was taking everything in, like he knew he was going back. Jack asked him "Mahadi- do you love Ja-Ja?" and Mahadi shook his head no. Jack then asked "Mahadi- do you love Mama April?" and he shook his head yes. That is when flood works started with me. Do I really think he doesn't love his Ja-Ja, no I don't. But I'm well aware that the attention I was able to give him was much different than the attention his Ja-Ja is able to give him.

We stopped and fed him lunch, this time the restaurant only had matooke, rice and groundnuts (basically liquid peanut sauce). Many times restaurants in Africa only have what is available to them based on what they can afford to buy, so they may not have chicken and beef everyday.

At the gate of A Greater Life we were met by many children, Emmy (one of the teachers) and Ja-Ja. They were all very excited to see him, I immediately started crying. We pulled out his mattress, new clothes and 6 soccer balls I had picked up on the way to the orphanage. We went to make his new bed, actually Emmy made his new bed. A lot of times Africans think Muzungus can't do certain things, like make beds or wash clothes by hand. When I told them I had washed Mahadi's uniform the night before, they were in complete shock that I knew how to wash, it's kind of amusing.

Jack had thought it would be a good idea to make sure Mahadi was playing and didn't see us leave, but it didn't happen that way. He was my side all the way, even climbing back into the car. Luckily, he was a happy little boy as we left, I'm not sure if he could fully comprehend that I would be gone for awhile.

Ja-ja continued to thank me profusely and at one point telling Jack that the money I spent God would bless me and He would in some way replace the money I had spent on Mahadi. As Ja-Ja was saying her final goodbyes to me, here eyes filled with tears, it was a moment I will not forget in the near future.

I climbed in the car, all the kids waving goodbye and we drove away.

I know what you will say next: Why don't you adopt him? You need to be his mother! Bring him back to the States!

I'm going to tackle this INCREDIBLY difficult issue in my next blog.

Again thanks for reading!

24 Hours with Mahadi

Hours with Mahadi:

Josephine hopped in front with Jack and I jumped in back with Mahadi and the adventure began. Mahadi's eyes were so BIG as he took in everything around him the cows, the trucks, everything. Mahadi had skipped lunch at school because he was too busy with me and Jack, so we stopped at a local restaurant to get something to eat. Meals on a daily basis for Mahadi consist of porridge in the morning, posho (corn meal made into a very thick and tasteless lump) and if the school can afford it beans and rice. At the restaurant we ordered for Mahadi: rice, Matooke (which is mashed green bananas), chicken, greens and an Orange Fanta to top it off. Jack had bets that Mahadi would not be able to eat all the food on his plate, Jack lost that bet. Mahadi ate everything with the exception of the Matooke (he must be my boy after all...I don't like bananas either).

After lunch, Josephine and I went across the street to buy a few pieces of second hand clothes for Mahadi. If you ever wonder where all of our donated clothes go in the US, if they don't sell in Goodwills, etc, eventually they get bagged up and put on containers and shipped over to Africa. People will then buy the bags of clothing, not knowing what's inside for a little over $200 a bag and then resell the items in the market. The woman we bought a few items from was a very smart and shrewd business woman. I bought Mahadi, 4 shirts and a pair of jeans for $6.00 We then bought him 2 pairs of second hand sandals, one pair being Tevas, I mistakenly said aloud to Josephine "ooh Tevas these are like 50 dollar sandals in the US", I bought them for less than $3.

Part of Josephine's concern about Mahadi staying with me for the night was a lot of kids in orphanages wet the bed. I wasn't too keen on sleeping with a bed wetter, not to mention I'm staying in a guest house, so I really didn't want to have to deal with a wet bed. I had wanted to buy Mahadi a bed anyway, since he slept with his Ja-Ja at the orphanage. So for less than $35.00 I was able to buy him a mattress, sheets and a blanket.

On the way back to the hotel, Mahadi fell asleep in my lap, exhausted I'm sure from all the excitement and full belly of food. Jack and Josephine dropped us off back at the guest house and mentioned I should walk down to the Italian Gelateria for dinner and ice cream. I thought sure I can handle walking with a 5 year old about a 1/2 mile from my guest house, no sweat.

I made Mahadi's new bed, changed his clothes and we set out on our walk to dinner. Did I mention I can't see in the dark? Did I mention they don't have street lamps in Kampala? Did I mention there are no sidewalks either? We walk out of our guest house gate and we are standing in the pitch black. Right, Gulley be brave and find your flashlight. There were plenty of curious stares as we walked down the street, Mzungu (white person) and little Ugandan boy walking down the street at 8pm. Mahadi chatted all the way down to the restaurant and back, I had no idea what he was saying because it was all in Lugandan. He proceeded to eat an entire breast and leg of chicken with probably a cup of rice. When we got back to the guest house, I knocked on the guest house gate and the guard dog, popped his head through the hole where you'd put your hand to open the gate and scared the living daylights out of both Mahadi and I as he ferociously barked his head off.

We got back to our room, Mahadi colored and kept chattering away while I did a few things around the room. I decided it was time to give Mahadi a shower. Mahadi had never had a shower before and his eyes almost popped out of his head as I put him under the water. I climbed into the shower (with all my clothes on mind you) and attempted to scrub him down while he was standing as far away from the water as possible. I then pulled the shower head off it's holder and gave him a quick rinse off. As I wrapped him up in the towel, his eyes still as big as saucers, he had stopped talking I wondered if had rendered him mute by giving him a shower. Much to my relief once he was dressed and coloring again, he was a happy little boy.

At 9:30 he put all the crayons and paper in a neat little stack and gave me a tug on the hand, he was ready for bed. I made sure he went to the bathroom before he laid down, his head hit the bed and he was out. I spent a lot of the night watching him sleep, horizontally, diagonally, off his bed, with covers, without covers. I also began to wonder who was going to have a harder time saying goodbye the next day. The next morning Mahadi woke up at 6:30, I said good morning buddy and he sleepily climbed right into bed with me and fell back to sleep. I'd be lying if I didn't say my heart melted. I'm happy to report he didn't wet the bed either.

I texted Josephine and asked her if she thought I could keep Mahadi for a few more days. She didn't think it would be a good idea, saying it would be harder for both of us the more days we spent together. I knew she was right.

I'll wrap up the rest of Friday in my next blog.

Thanks for reading!

How it began with Mahadi

The Beginning- 2.5 years ago (approximately)

I was living with my good friend Jen Gash and she had recently come back from a trip to Kampala, Uganda. She was traveling with a professional photographer during that trip and Hannah had snapped this great photo of what we thought were two little girls, holding both hands and looking at the camera. The photo hung in Jen's bathroom, one weekend my sister Katie was visiting and she made up names for the two girls, Bernie and Tasha. We created a whole story about Bernie and Tasha's lives.

Six months later I'm traveling in Uganda with Jen, we had spent most of our time in the North, but one of the few days we were in Kampala, we went to A Greater Life, to see how the beds and nets Sweet Sleep had provided were holding up. If you've never been to a third world orphanage, let me just tell you the kids are going to be REALLY excited to see you. They don't care who you are, you're someone different, you're going to give them lots of hugs and hand holding and maybe even a present. It's typically a mob scene, if you have a camera and you start shooting and show them the photos at minimum you will have 30 children clammering to see themselves. At some point during the mob scene Jen says to me "oh hey this is where Bernie and Tasha live". I started scanning the faces of all the kids and sure enough I spot Bernie...except Bernie is a BOY! Bernie was very shy but I had a chance to hold him and play with him, but it's very hard to spend time with just one child. Here are some photos of the first day of meeting Bernie:

NOTE: I'm not sure if it's my iPad or the app, but the photos are not posting in the order they are meant to be posted. I think you will be able to tell the photos from 2 years ago to the photos of the past few days.



Later on that day I asked Josephine, Sweet Sleep's in country director, to find out what his real name was and his story. I then learned his real name was Mahadi and he lived at A Greater Life with his Ja-Ja (grandma) along with a couple of siblings. Ja-Ja cooks at the school, she does not receive a salary, she does however receive a roof over her head and food. Mahadi's mother is still alive, though I still haven't gotten a straight story on her. I have a few suspicions but nothing is confirmed.

Over the past two years, I have sent money with Jen when she goes over on a trip to pay for Mahadi's school fees, medical needs and clothing or shoes. He's been dewormed, treated for Malaria and a minor burn. Before you start singing my praises, the amount of money I have sent is nominal. In the past two years I've maybe sent over a total of $300 maybe 400 at the very most.


September 2011

When the opportunity to work a program in Tanzania came up this September, I knew I needed to include a trip to Uganda. I wanted to see for myself how Mahadi was doing, what else I could provide and in the back of my mind maybe even spend a day or two with him. I arrived to Kampala on Wednesday and was greeted at the airport by my dear friends Josephine and Jack. We decided we would go to A Greater Life on Thursday.

We pull up to the gate of A Greater Life, waiting for someone to come with the key to open the gate. Once we were in, immediately, it became a mob scene of 30-50 children running to the gate to say hello. Immediately, I see Mahadi who has a HUGE grin on his face as he sees Jack driving the car. Jack always drives Jen to A Greater Life and I know Jack is sure to spend extra time with Mahadi when he is there, since he knows Mahadi is so special to me.



It was chaos 15 little hands trying to hold my hands or any part of my body, I could see Mahadi in the mix of all the kids, but it was difficult to single him out. Emmy, one of the teachers hollered at all of them to run back to class, meanwhile Mahadi's Ja-Ja was running up to greet us. She was profusely thanking me for providing for Mahadi.

We watched Mahadi's top class (pre-k in the states) sing a few songs. I then asked Josephine if she thought it would be possible if I spent some time with Mahadi and his Ja-Ja away from all of the other kids. Mahadi, his Ja-Ja and I along with a teacher who could translate for me, went to sit on the steps outside of the one room Ja-Ja, Mahadi and 5 other kids sleep in. The whole time Mahadi is sitting on my lap, smiling, laughing, eating some popped corn, Ja-Ja offered me some sugar cane, so I shared that with Mahadi and a couple of other kids who were checking out the scene. I learned Mahadi had been healthy lately, that he shared a bed with his Ja-Ja and some of the money I had recently sent paid for shoes and his school uniforms.



Jack had stayed with the car and about 20 kids were climbing in and out and all around the vehicle. I was busy chatting with some other kids, when Jack said "April, Mahadi is telling everyone he is going with Mama April today" I said "really? Do you think I could take him for a night?" I asked Josephine and God Bless Josephine (knowing full well what a swinging Bachelorette I am) said "April I don't think you could handle it, what if he cries or he misbehaves" I said "Josephine I'm the oldest of 4 and I used to be a nanny, I think I can handle it". She said "Are you sure?" And I said yes, but maybe you and Jack should stay the night with me just in case...ha! We asked the head mistress and Ja-Ja if it was ok for Mahadi to come stay with me for the night and they both said yes.

Thus began the 24 hour adventure of Mama April and Mahadi.......

How different are we?

One of the great joys I get out of traveling is not discovering only the differences within the country and people I encounter while out on my travels, but also the similarities:

--when you hear a person laugh
--when a child cries
--when two siblings fight amongst each other
--when parents board a plane with three kids, 15 bags and that stressed out look in their eye as they board a plane.

Can you tell what ethnic background someone is by their laugh or cry?

Can you tell what religion someone is by how they break up a fight amongst their children?

This morning waking up in Paris, hearing the news of Osama bin Laden's death the first thing I thought-- wow they got him. The next thing I thought was this is not over. 

For those of us who travel, we are no less in danger today, than we were yesterday. For our troops in Afganistan, Iraq, and around the world, this does not mean they are coming home tomorrow. For those who died on 9/11, for the soldiers and civilians who have died fighting over the past 10 years and will not be coming back, the death of Osama bin laden does not make terrorism go away.

I have not been able to see much of the news as I'm currently on a bus to Normandy. But I have seen Facebook and Twitter and as I read about my fellow Americans celebrate the death of Osama Bin laden, I realize once again we are more alike than ever as fellow Americans dance on the grave of Osama bin Laden just as Al-Qaida sympathizers dance on ours.

Hiking Half Dome

A week ago today I made a checkmark on my bucket list. Number 10 on my most current list was to hike Half Dome in Yosemite National Park in California.

About a year ago I had a couple of friends mention that they had hiked Half Dome, I had been to Yosemite for a day back in 2000 with my current roommate (she was visiting me in Sacramento) and my then boyfriend. As a flatlander from the Midwest I was amazed that there were people climbing and SLEEPING on the side of El Capitan and I bet at that time I didn’t even realize you could hike to the top of Half Dome.

The older I become the more risks I take, which is typically the opposite, but I’ve come to the conclusion you got to die sometime, so why not live life to the fullest, ride a mini cart down the side of the Great Wall, sit on top of a van in Murchison Falls 15 feet away from lions and get out into those woods and find a BEAR DAMN IT!!

If you’re facebook friends with me, you’ll know that I’m on the hunt (figuratively speaking) to see a bear in the wild. A word of advice don’t ever go bear hunting with me, you’ll never find one.

But let’s get back to Half Dome….a few months ago, I ring up my good friend Melissa and casually say “hey I have a trip to Hawaii at the end of June, why don’t I stop over in LA and we can go to Yosemite, maybe climb Half Dome?” We both google “Hike Half Dome” and collectively say, “oh shit…did you see those cables?”

So we start working out…errr I mean so Melissa starts working out and I occasionally climb some stairwells in whatever hotel I’m staying at and occasionally do some pushups. About 3 weeks before the hike, I get back on the Prepare for hiking half dome website…step one Start working out 2 months prior to your hike…well uh…let’s move on to step 2.

10 days before we head out to Yosemite, Melissa and I go on a hike with Mrrrrr (I’ll get to that story in a minute) at Sandstone Peaks in Malibu. It was 6 miles, there were a few times I clearly thought I’m out of my damn mind to be hiking Half Dome in 10 days. So I tell Melly later that day, I’m totally in for Yosemite, but the hike up Half Dome, ehhh doubt I’m in, I don’t want to be a casualty on the trail and drag everyone else down with me.

Mrrr decides a few days later he’s in for going to Yosemite with us. I tell him I’m not sure I’m going to do Half Dome; he says you can totally do it just pace yourself. I’m sure at the time he didn’t realize pace yourself would be a snail’s pace.

Before I get to the day of the hike I’ll explain why Mrrrr is called Mrrrr. Mrrr is in a witness protection program, that’s why I can’t refer to him by his real name. Just Kidding. His initials are M.R.R. and I said MRR huh? Kinda like Grrr…every time you’re crabby (or act crabby) we are going to MRRRRRRRR you…oh boy did we get a lot of mileage out of that…and were Melissa and I cracking up every single time.

The morning of the hike, we woke up at 4:30AM, made some breakfast, coffee and headed out from the North Pines campground to the trailhead. There were 5 of us to start, two of Melissa's friends, Stephanie and Melanie, Melissa, Mrrr and myself. Stephanie and Melanie are super cool girls….super cool girls who are like 25 and weigh 105 pounds on a bad day and who had been climbing all over the Yosemite Valley for the past 3 days and were now going on a 16 mile hike. Yeah you get the point they were way more fit than my old fat ass.

Within the first ½ mile the self-doubt was kicking in to full gear. Wow self-doubt is really a powerful thing. I was hiking along thinking- are you kidding me you dumb ass you’re not going to hike 16 miles in one day. You’ll never keep up with the rest of the group. This sucks I can’t breathe! Really why did you ever put this stupid goal on your bucket list…you should just go back to camp go back to bed and then sit in the river all day long.

I call out to Melissa and Mrrr overhears and I say, “I’m going to turn back. I don’t want to hold the group back. Nor do I want to be a casualty on the trail”. Mrrrr, sweet Mrrr says just make it to the waterfall. I say ok fine just to the waterfall. Mrrr was super sweet in that every 10 feet or so he’d peer over his shoulder just to see if I was still back there. I’d give him a wheezy smile.

We all made it up to the top of Vernal Falls (700 stairs later) thru the Misty Trail, and then up to Nevada Falls (another 700 stairs). By the time I got that far, I had decided I was going all the way albeit at a slow and steady pace, the thought of going back down the trail myself was more unappealing than pushing forward. Plus I wanted to be at the top of Half Dome!

There were all shapes, sizes and ages on the trail. Grandparents, grandkids, people in sneakers (which is really not advised for the granite part), people who’d made it to almost the top before but not the cables, people without water (which how they did it I’m not sure).

I’m not going to lie the last 2 miles up felt like an eternity, the last 3 miles down at the end of the night may have felt like an eternity and a half. It’s a toss up really.  The final push before you get to the cables is another 700 stairs cut out of the granite, with very little shade, some open terrain and then finally the cables.

The cables are one lane with two way traffic and what feels like a 90 degree angle, people coming off the cables said it had taken them over an hour to get up to the summit (from the start to the end of the cables is a little over 400 feet…which seems easy until you realize that’s the equivalent of a 40 story building). It’s like a bad game of leapfrog or chicken on the side of the mountain. The rock climber girls had been up and down by the time we got that far, so one of them let Melissa use her harness. Mrrrr went first, then me, and then Melly behind clipped in, so if I did tumble down the side of the mountain maybe she could grab me by the nape of my neck.

As we start the trudge up the side of the mountain, I really focused on my breathing, my grip on the cables and tried to look only a few feet ahead of me, not the drops looming to either side of me. Twice people’s water bottles that had not been secured in their backpacks fell out and went “ting ting ting ting” down the side of the mountain. I’m pretty sure that’s when I said to Melissa “I think I might pass out”, but the fear and logistics of dealing with someone unconscious on the side of a mountain kept me standing on two feet. The people coming down the mountain were amazing with “you’re almost there. You have great upper arm body strength (which I said thank you but laughed at). You’re doing awesome” etc. really gave us the boost to push ahead and get to the top.

Being at the top of Half Dome was amazing, I said to Melissa and Mrrrr if I was a crier, I’d be crying right now. Those 8 miles up taught me a lot about myself, the push to persevere, how the encouragement of close friends, friends you’ve just met and strangers on a trail can give you the strength to carryon. I really feel like I can accomplish anything now, as long as I push the voices of self-doubt far out of my mind, keep a positive attitude and if you focus on just a few steps at a time, not the whole 8 miles it’s a lot easier to reach your goal.

We spent about 30 minutes up top and then cruised down the cables pretty quickly (not as many people coming up by that time of day). At one point as the sun was starting to drop Melissa “eh it’s about mountain lion feeding time”, while that encouraged us to move faster, we still ended up in the dark with our headlamps on. The last 3 miles were switchbacks down the John Muir Trail; while I was happy to not be taking the stairs past Vernal Falls and getting soaked again, those switchbacks were a bitch.

I’m going to do the Half Dome Hike again….I’m thinking next year but 20lbs lighter and with a harness and carbineer, so I cruise on the outside of the cables and skip the line like those bad ass 25 year old rock climber girls. Who's coming with me?