A story about honoring immigrant parents’ sacrifice through a life in the Outdoors.
por Mario Jesús Ordóñez Calderón
I got the call on a Friday evening, I remember being in the middle of a nap awoken by my phone to see Manuel’s name on the screen. I contemplated letting it go to voicemail but Manuel is a man I look up to, a local surfboard shaper who has treated me like a younger brother since the day I met him. I answered the phone and he told me he was planning on doing the hike we’ve been talking about for months, but his window was narrow and we would have go soon, as soon as tomorrow. I agreed to the hike despite the millions of excuses that rushed through my head.
Well, tomorrow came and in the blink of an eye we were en route to Palm Springs. A city I once thought of as strictly hot and barren desert apparently had one of the tallest peaks in the surrounding area, Mt. San Jacinto. Now you may have heard of the San Jacinto hike, a mellow stroll after a breath taking tram ride to the top. But here’s the kicker, there was no tram ticket in it for us. We were set to do the Cactus to Clouds trail. A hike that starts at nearly sea level and gains about 10,000 feet of elevation over a span of 11 miles making it one of the greatest elevation increases among all the day-hike routes in the United States.
Now I’m starting to recall why I was so hesitant about agreeing to the hike. We arrived in Palm Springs at night. We parked near the trail head and tried our best to sleep in the car. The hot and humid conditions did not allow for much of it. 3 AM struck and as folks began crawling their way out of bars we began crawling our way out of the car and getting ready to hike. Alpine start, so they like to call it. They, being the Alpinists elite which we both aspire to be a part of. We sipped at a cup of day old coffee and shared more grunts than actual conversation. Before the caffeine could take effect we were packed and on the trail. Guided under moonlight and headlamps we climbed and climbed watching the lights of the city grow smaller and smaller. By the time the sun rose we were already half way up the mountain and teasing the sun for being a “Dormido”. We’d make it to the top of each ridge only to see another ridge making the mountain seem endless. Yet, we kept our cadence strong for we were full of excitement and determination.
As the hike continued to get harder our friendship grew stronger.
After the sun came up conversation between Manuel and I began flowing. We spoke about a range of topics from future aspirations to previous adventures. As the hike continued to get harder our friendship grew stronger. Up until that hike our friendship was young. One that started through mutual friends and a love for surfing grew beyond that as we shared in the struggle of steep leg-burning climbs on the side of that mountain. It wasn’t until one of our last breaks when Manuel felt comfortable enough with me to share a personal hardship he had endured. On that same date, a few years prior, Manuel’s father had passed away. I knew immediately that this hike meant more than just another summit to bag, he had intended to accomplish this hike in honor of his father’s life.
I expressed my condolences and how I was humbled to be able to share in the act of honoring his father with him. Thinking about Manuel’s father brought thoughts of my parents and the similarities between his and mine. Manuel and I were both raised by Mexican parents who put their future aside for the sake of their children’s. They had chosen a life of hard work and selflessness in order to provide us with a life of freedom and opportunity. That’s when the realization hit; this was the way we had chosen to express gratitude for our parents sacrifice. Even though our parents might not understand our wild adventures, the outdoors is where we thrive and through activities like hiking and surfing we are showing them appreciation for this life of endless possibilities.
From that day on each step taken, each mountain climbed, and every wave surfed was rooted with them in mind. Manuel and I went on to reach the summit of Mt. San Jacinto that day and since then we have continued to hike together, just recently reaching the summit of one of the highest mountain in the contiguous states, Mt. Whitney. However, to us hikes had since grown to be more than just about personal accomplishments.
I will hike each step with gratitude and pride for the chance of life in the outdoors my parents have given me.
Not a hike goes by where I don’t think about my parents love. They call me crazy for the adventures I go on and I reply “esta vida, la vivo por ti”, meaning “this life, I live for you.” Manuel and I will continue to hike mountains together and who knows where the next summit might take us. Wherever it ends up being, I will hike each step with gratitude and pride for the chance of life in the outdoors my parents have given me.
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