Chinese Wall

  • October 24, 2016
  • Posted by Zach Dellorto-Blackwell

Months before even setting foot in the Bob I had a dream about the rock face known as “the Chinese Wall.” Nothing really happened.  The towering rock was just present. Then, as fate warranted, I was stationed 17 miles from the geological structure of my dreams. There was no option. I had to go
It was a pleasant hike along the crystal clear White River. The huckleberries were already touched by autumn showing in their rusty leaves. 

At mile 14 we began to ascend Haystack Mountain, a grueling climb of four lengthy switchbacks. Of course, as the sun likes to do in these moments, it cleared the sky of all clouds and seemed to increase in size. It was hot!  Until, of course, we reached the top and a storm rolled in. This is what the Rocky Mountains like to do when you have dared set your tent up at t he peak of a substantial rock. Then just as we were about to leave the, storm turned tail and ran the other direction.

So, now I had the opportunity to go to the rock face and ask “Chinese Wall, why have you called me here?  How are you?” and “What would you like for breakfast?” And just as in the dream the Chinese Wall was just there. Nothing really happened, so I said “thank you,” and went to sleep.


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