To Sur With Love

 Hiking, recently, the Northern California forests and cliffs of Big Sur, with the juxtaposition of mountainous terrain and shimmering turquoise water, brought me back in time...Over two decades back to a truly heavenly and harrowing experience, while hiking with my friend Art in one of the ranges ringing the fjords of Norway. We left late morning for the snow covered peaks. The trek up was moderately strenuous but also a delight as we tramped through lush meadows, passed brightly colored wildflowers and petted grazing sheep. As we continued to climb, vegetation became sparse; green was now replaced with patches of earth and rock, then drifts and fields of snow. Whatever path there was became nonexistent; the ascent to the summit was less a hike than a crawl on hands and knees.

 But we finally made it! On top of a world, in the middle of July, where the eerie silence blends in a yin-yang harmony with a gently howling wind. The swirling confetti-dancing snow celebrates our arrival. Talk about "the big picture." Alas, it can only be down from here.

 Little did I know how hard the fall would be. As I indicated, there had been no path for the last leg to the top. And our meandering on the ridge had us even losing sight of our original tracks. And on slippery, steep terrain the descent becomes particularly challenging. Struggling to maintain my footing, I suddenly had a blinding flash. (Actually, I think the lack of oxygen was impairing my brain functioning.): "So Mark, why not slide down the wet snow for awhile?" Very quickly I received the answer why launching my "aha" was an ass backwards idea. After a brief exhilarating run, the wet snow suddenly becomes wet rock. And I realize if I don't do something NOW my coccyx (that bony protrusion and base of your spinal column above your backside) is history.

 So I try to grab onto something to break my downward hurtling. No way. I suddenly flip over, coming to a crashing halt onto a boulder, top of the head first. I saw the proverbial stars. Somehow I quickly regained consciousness (see mom, there is some value in being hardheaded) placed my hand on my skull, brought my hand down, took one look...and almost passed out again. It was soaking blood red!

 At this point, I experienced a little miracle -- the emergency survival mechanism of the human "general adaptation syndrome." Everything seemed to slow down and, in an eerily calm voice, I announced to no one visible, "Art, I think I need some help."

 Now fortunately, my friend Art had exercised better judgment. He was content to crawl. Art, thinking he had lost a friend for sure, was looking kind of pale when he finally reached me. Maybe it was my looking like I'd been in finger painting class and the red paint was splattered all over me. Art took out his handkerchief, applied it to the crown and suddenly was waving a red flag. Clearly, the bleeding was not going to stop immediately. I realized there was no choice. We were in the middle of nowhere and the youth hostel was hours away. I slowly got up and said, "Let's walk." As I did, my left calf started cramping. The product of stress, repressed anxiety, blood loss, who knows. Luckily, it was not severe. I kneaded it out and we proceeded. I wouldn't let myself rest; just measured, focused and relentless footsteps. And after 31/2 hours, we made it to the hostel. The bleeding had mostly stopped.

 I couldn't experience the relief right away. I was painfully famished; perhaps having a post-trauma, low blood sugar attack. Blessedly, the hostel had an ice cream vending machine. I just started gobbling ice cream cones. And the "piece de resistance" is a friend's photo capturing my blood caked face, wearing a blue wind breaker transformed into a Jackson Pollack of purple and red splotches and drippings, eating my third strawberry cone, with the biggest, most incongruous, most joyful and grateful grin.

 I only needed four stitches the next day. And now you know why my brain works in strange ways. And why mountains, for me, most dramatically capture and echo the peaks and depths of nature and human nature. Next time, I'll share this mix of natures through the medium of a visualization lyric: "Mountain Vision."

 Just remember...Practice Safe Stress!

 Feedback Segment: How about sharing your thoughts on how you, friends or colleagues use humor in dealing with stress, conflict or moods, yours or others, in your personal life, at home or at work? HFTE will run the best stories and, of course, credit you. (And the real lagniappe, you become a member of the Stress Doc's Stress Buster's Club.) Also, email me to learn more about "The Stress Doc's" upcoming serious and humorous on-line support/chat group -- "The Frequent Sighers Club.

 Mark Gorkin, "The Stress Doc," Licensed Clinical Social Worker, is a nationally recognized speaker, workshop leader and author on stress, reorganizational change, anger, team building, creativity and humor. The Stress Doc is a columnist for the popular cyber-newsletter, Humor From The Edge. Mark is also the "Online Psychohumorist" for the major AOL mental health resource network, Online Psych . His motto: Have Stress? Will Travel! Reach "The Doc" at (202) 232-8662, email: Stress Doc@aol.com