Mental Preparation For Mt. Baldy aka "They Probably Call It Devil's Backbone For A Reason"

As I mentioned in the harrowing, sure-to-be-made-into-an-after-school-special account of our poorly executed traverse of the Eastern portion of the Tom Sloan Trail, Rebecca and I are preparing for a late summer climb of Mt. Baldy.

Stop the snickering.

I mean - we're actually pretty good with the (relatively) high-altitude, long-distance business. After dragging our poor, hobbled friend down from Cucamonga Peak to the Icehouse Canyon parking lot not too long ago*, we proved that we have the fortitude, endurance, and mental capabilities for long, high hikes...and that we are strong like bull.

Really, all that stands between me and Baldy is our insistence on doing the full loop, which includes the dreaded (at least in my super-active monsters-are-under-the-bed imagination) Devil's Backbone trail.

Because I am a glutton for frightening myself unnecessarily, I enjoy Google Image-stalking things like "most dangerous trail," "most dangerous hike," and "Devil's Backbone Trail." With the latter, I figured that if I was emotionally prepared for what the trail looked like, I would be fine when it came time to actually traverse it.

Bad idea.

I stumbled across this photo of the trail, and promptly decided that stamp collecting would be a much more reasonable hobby.

Me, in an email to Rebecca which includes that photo link: This is the part where I will throw up on you. Sorry in advance.

Rebecca's response, which includes this photo: It's not so bad. Look at all those trees! Trees are our friend and they protect us from sliding down the mountain and give us confidence that no harm can come to us.

Me: Just remember to repeat this often when I start breaking into a cold sweat, mumbling, "Rebecca, I don't like this," over and over again.



So...

What Would Ed Do?
Ed is not a scaredy-cat like me. Ed would just cross the damn thing, probably doing cartwheels the entire time, with one hand pinned in a peace-sign formation behind his back.

* That's another story for another day; suffice to say it involves ill-fitting hiking boots, mysteriously leaking Camelbaks, and several choice curse words.

[Shawnté]