A life for a life

I want to first thank my friend Adam Paulson for allowing me to honor him and share this story- his story really, his half of our story, and part of the context for my story.

In my previous post I mentioned a few times that the story was not complete and alluded to another story to give that one a deeper richness and fullness. This is now that story.

Adam if you remember was one of our guides on our week in the mountains of Wyoming. He and Aaron, the other guide, had been backpacking and leading trips like ours for years, though this was their first together. I don’t think I mentioned this before, but something I loved seeing on the trail was the way the two of them led together, as a team. Aaron was generally out in front, leading the way and often packing down the snow, while Adam brought up the rear, making sure everyone was doing ok. Aaron, however, several times asked Adam his opinion on the trail ahead, if it was safe to go a certain way, if the ice would hold over a particular stream, this kind of thing. He would answer and either we would go on, or go a different way, or maybe the two of them would check it out first to see if it was good. By Aaron’s humility and the times he would defer to Adam’s judgment, it seemed that Adam was the more experienced, or at least more of the leader, but even in that he never lorded it, never tried to put himself over anyone else. He was always confident and assured, yet humble about it all.

So on the day of the summit climb, as I previously wrote, is when Adam and I became close. We had reached the top and started back down to a certain place to have breakfast. One of the last areas before the summit was mostly just climbing over rocks, many of them quite large and it was fairly steep, so while going up was exhausting, coming down was just treacherous because not only was I more tired, it was also harder to keep my balance. Going up you basically lean forward and use gravity to help you balance and get up. But on the way down gravity is working against you as you have to carefully place each step and almost lean backward so as not to fall too far forward and go tumbling down the rocks. Anyway, this was the beginning of the end for me that day as it was the last time I really had much strength left at all. To say I was tired and out of breath is such a horribly weak description because I might say that after a two mile run with ROTC or even just after playing some soccer for a while. On this day I had been hiking for nearly six hours, almost nonstop, in the snow and over rocks, all up a mountain, so tired and out of breath just don’t even come close.

So besides being cautious coming down the rocks, I had to stop every so often to try to catch my breath a bit.

Now, all morning I had been pushed- I pushed myself, Xan and Cory pushed me, just about everyone had been encouraging me on. Adam had supported me also all along, but now coming down the rocks it was just he and I as everyone else was far ahead, and he kept me going. Actually, by this time he was pushing me too because we were way behind and had to catch up. After I had stopped several times he finally said I really needed to just keep going, no more breaks until we caught up to the rest. By that point almost everyone else was at the area we had decided upon to stop at for breakfast.

So I didn’t. I kept moving, kept climbing even if slowly at times, and didn’t stop again until I reached them all. The rest for breakfast was all too short, even if it was great to finally get something to eat. We started moving again and the energy I had regained quickly drained back out of my legs and lungs, but I kept pressing.

Before too long we came to a large snowfield.

By this time it was somewhere around 9:30 or 10 in the morning, so the sun had been up for a w

hile and had had time to melt a bit of the snow. Our hikes were almost always a race against the sun. The heat would melt some of the snow, which meant softer snow, which meant deeper and more frequent holes for us to fall into with every step. This large snowfield was a perfect example of what late morning sun meant to us. The snow was deep and the field long, even the lightest among us was falling in. Xan, lean and light, quickly gained the nickname of Legolas because he seemed to float on top of the snow and rarely ever fell in (if you don’t know what I’m talking about go back and watch the first Lord of the Rings movie). But in this field even Legolas could not keep from sinking into the postholes. So naturally I had slow going, even stepping in others’ footsteps I went deeper than they had. Soon the steps were so difficult to get out of one hole, only to drop into another. Campbell came up with the idea of rolling across the snow, to spread out the weight and keep from falling in. Actually that worked fairly well- Cory and Josh rolled quite well without much more difficulty. I figured it couldn’t be any worse than the trudging, so I got down and rolled too, and I only sank in once more after that, but each roll was slow and harder than the last and I was quickly running out of both breath and strength.

Somehow I made it to a nearby island of rocks, honestly I don’t know how because I couldn’t roll the whole way and when I tried to step again I continued to fall into the snow. Anyway, I got to the rocks, climbed about fifteen feet into the island and again just collapsed onto one of them. I didn’t want to hold the group up anymore, and honestly was a little worried of what Adam would say, but none of that was able to keep me going anymore, I just gave out as I sat on that rock. When he came over, as everyone else was again pretty far ahead by now, I told him between breaths that I couldn’t go on, I had to stop for a minute and that my chest hurt.

His response surprised me, but was just the opposite of what I expected. He wasn’t at all saying anything about keeping going or having to get moving. He just asked what was wrong and what hurt. He calmed me down, got my breathing steady again, and gave me some water. After I’d rested a few minutes we left again. The rest of the group went on ahead to get back to camp while Adam and I just took a slow steady pace the rest of the way to get back. He made sure I stopped every so often to rest a bit and catch my breath, or to drink some water.

We spent the next couple hours walking back and just talking together, getting to know each other- learning where each was from, our favorite kinds of beer, the fact that we’d both worked at Chili’s, all kinds of stuff. Through all that though he was always checking to make sure I was doing ok, that my breathing was good and that I stopped to rest when I needed to. We finally got back to camp and I sat down in one of the chairs and just rested.

After a little while more when my breathing was a bit more normal still, Adam gave me the ok to get in the tent and just go to sleep, the thing I had wanted since we got back to camp. Even then though, he would come and check every so often, look in the tent and ask how I was doing, make sure my breathing was getting better, all that. That’s basically how it was between us the rest of the trip, he was always looking after me, making sure I was alright. The next day, Friday, he divided up most of the gear from my backpack between himself and everyone else to make it lighter on me. In fact, on two separate days Adam took the nearly empty pack from me and carried it himself on top of his own.

So Friday, toward the end of the day, the choice was given to Campbell, Josh, Dan, and I of whether to camp at a spot we were at and had lunch or to keep going for another hour or so to find another suitable location. We all agreed to keep going, and a bit later we made camp at a site that the four of us scouted and picked out. That night around the fire Adam shared more of his background and his story.

Two years ago, on the morning of July 4th, 2005, Adam Paulson endured what he called one of the worst things that can happen for a guide of trips like this. He was taking a group on a similar trip and it was their last day. In fact that morning they were on their way back to the vans to be picked up. A young backpacker of the group named Nathan Bell had been having a bit of trouble, or just seemed a little off, that morning. He was going a little slow and getting a bit behind at times. Once he went to the bathroom and came back and his fly was down and when Adam pointed it out Nate acknowledged and fixed it but just seemed very absent-minded and only about half there.

Adam told us that he had said some of the same things to me that he said to Nathan that day, that I needed to keep going, couldn’t be stopping or taking breaks, this kind of thing. Nate seemed to be getting worse as they traveled and eventually looked like he was going to fall over so Adam came over to catch him and when he collapsed into Adam’s arms his eyes had started to gloss over. Adam asked what was wrong and what was going on with him, and all Nate could say was that he felt like he was dying. When he passed out, falling out of the guide’s arms and onto the ground, Adam started doing CPR on the unconscious backpacker. He continued making attempts to revive him until quite some time later, when paramedics arrived and told him just to stop because it was useless at that point. It had been more than an hour since he first collapsed. Two years ago, on the morning of July 4th, 2005, Nathan Bell died coming down a mountain at the end of a backpacking trip.

Despite paramedics and others telling Adam this was not his fault and there was nothing he could have done, he still felt guilt and shame. He told us that the altitude sickness and illnesses which has killed Nathan should not have done so, that rarely are they . He struggled with all this for a long time. In fact he swore never to lead a group on a trip again. Self-doubt, shame, and confusion were just a few of the many feelings and voices Adam had to deal with over the past few years.

When we all climbed the summit, we were given a rock, a stone which represented all of our shame, our past, the lies and hurt we had lived under so long. Adam shared that this experience was the stone he carried to the top, just as it has for so long been the burden he has carried through life. So he took it up there and left it there and allowed God to begin to heal and restore him in those places in his heart. What was interesting is that, though he didn’t know it, God was about to bring him right back into a very similar situation and show him that he can do it and let him experience the Father’s love and pride for him. It wasn’t even two hours after putting down that burden that he was once again faced with a similar prospect and a person he was leading needing him. He told us about the fear, self-doubt, and memories he was feeling when I collapsed on that rock; I responded that I didn’t sense any of that at the time but only saw a strong confident man that took care of me and got me safely down the mountain.

Thursday, the day of the summit, was an amazing day, it started early and it was long, full of many things both external and internal. But hearing Adam’s story Friday night gave our experience together so much more depth and showed another aspect of what God was up to that day. Yes, there was much development and initiation for my heart that day, but in the same trial there was healing and even redemption for Adam in the opportunity to keep me safe and prevent anything bad from happening, it was almost like another chance for him. There was so much there that God wanted to do that day for each of us and that neither of us was really expecting.

It felt so right then that after he shared his story and I shared my reaction to it and the previous day’s events that Xan asked Adam to bless me and give me my new name. I felt so grateful to Adam for all he had done for me, and felt such a connection with him, especially after hearing more of his story, that the idea felt appropriate. The moment felt sacred, to sit around the fire and look back over the past few days, and even longer, and be able to see the way God had orchestrated and brought things together to create this perfect moment for this thing to happen. So the guys gathered around me, they all put their hands on me while Adam prayed over and blessed me, and gave me my new name, his own name even. And with it, my new life.
And that’s what I told him when I held him close afterward- that he had saved my life and given me my new one, and that we were now forever bonded. My story is not just about me, and Paulson learned that his story was no longer about a life that was lost, but now it was about a life that was gained, a life that was re-born and even that he had a part in starting.

Adam, my friend, thank you and once again- you saved my life, and have given me my new one.