High Adventure

By: Jared C. Clark

Revision

The first time I ever got high was on a camping trip with my church Boy Scout troop. We spent four days in the New River Gorge, climbing and rafting. Just five teenage boys, and two adult leaders who accompanied us on our trip. The drive up took longer then expected, and by the time we got to the camp site and set up our tents, the sun had already disappeared, leaving only the stillness of the night, and a black sky bejeweled with sparkling stars. Corey, Nate and I watched as the lights in the other tents blinked out, and laying down for sleep, clicked out our light as well.

“What's going on,” I said, squinting against the sudden onslaught of bright light. “What are you looking for?”

“Oh, you'll see,” said Corey, as he rummaged through his sack, finally pulling a balled up sock from deep inside the bag. “Ta-da,” he said, as he tossed the sock over to Nate.

“Aren't we supposed to be sleeping?” I asked, still disoriented from the blinding flashlight.

“It's not time for sleep just yet, Pete. There's fun yet to be had,” Nate said.

“Fun? What kind of fun, what are you talking about, man?” I said, the confusion apparent in my voice.

Nate removed the contents of the sock, and my eyes went wide. I didn't know what to say, but I tried something. “Is that what I think it is?” I said. I already knew the answer. The raggedy cigarette and green buds in the bag couldn't have been anything else but a joint inside a bag of weed.

“Can we do this? I mean what if Mr. Miller or Mr. Prouty catch us?” I said, unsure of what I had gotten myself into by choosing to tent with Nate and Corey. Unlike most Boy Scouts we not only met at a church building, but were also all members of that congregation. We belonged to a tight-knit community of firm-believers, with a long list of rules that had to be followed if one was going to gain access to the splendors of heaven.

Now, I had known that Corey and Nate weren't the most religious guys in the world, but they still attended church regularly. I knew Nate had sex once, but it was with someone he loved, and I'm pretty sure he realized that it was a mistake. I also know he repented for it.

What I didn't know, was that they smoked this stuff.

“So are you in, or not?” Corey asked, bringing me back to the moment.

I'm not sure why I said what I did, but before I could even think about the decision, I said, “Sure, I guess so.”

I don't think it was the peer pressure – if you can say no to a cute girl, you can say no to your friends. I knew it was against the rules, and getting caught meant our lives, but something inside me decided it was finally worth a try. I mean, what was so bad about weed anyway? I Maybe it was my recent decline of interest in a religion that met for too many hours on Sundays. A religion that had a list of ‘do nots' much longer then the list of ‘dos.' Maybe I was tired of being told what to do.

Then again, maybe it did have something to do with peer pressure. I had known Nate my whole life, but we had only been hanging out recently, skateboarding together in our spare time. Corey just moved from California , and he skated with us, too. Corey and Nate helped make those relentless hours of church bearable. Until recently, I spent most of my time with Matt and John, two brothers who were cool, but still a bit uptight. They stuck to the rules, living their lives the way their parents wanted them to.

Nate pulled the joint from the bag and began inspecting it. He rolled it over in his fingers, and ran it under his nose. “Oh man, this is good stuff, Corey,” he said.

“Yeah man, I brought that back with me the last time I went home.”

They looked at me, and I knew I had to make a decision.

We unzipped the tent, and stole away from the campsite through a trail in the woods. Nate lit the joint, and began puffing on it, exhaling a thick, billowy cloud of smoke that snaked upwards, seeming to float in the air forever. Nate passed it to Corey, and he repeated the process, passing it to me.

I sucked in on the joint.

The smoke was hotter than I expected, it burned my throat and lungs.

I exhaled and, of course, coughed.

I didn't cough as much as I had expected though, and quickly took another hit.

We continued walking through the woods smoking the joint, and when it was finished, Corey flicked it to the side. We headed back to the tent, and as we slipped inside I began to feel the effects of the drug. I was dizzy, but not in a sickening way, it was more like I was floating. My mind went fast as a rocket and slow as snail at the same time. I had never felt anything like it before. We munched out on the candy bars and chips that any scout knows are a necessity on a camping trip. We giggled and told funny stories, then clicked out the light and went to sleep.

As I lay in bed, something changed. Suddenly I didn't feel good about smoking. I felt miserable. The weight of my deed pushed me into the ground, what had I done? This wasn't allowed. This was completely against the rules. I felt I had done something very bad. It kept me awake. I couldn't get away from it. I tossed and turned, hearing the gentle snores and occasional mumbles of my sleeping roommates. Finally, I fell asleep, unsure of my decision, displeased by my choice.

The next morning Mr. Miller and Mr. Prouty woke us all when the sun had barely silhouetted itself against the morning sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight, and already a warm breeze was chasing the night's chill away. I felt groggy, but managed to peel myself from my sleeping bag.

I wandered over to John and Matt's tent, and poked my head inside.

“Hey guys. What's goin' on?” I said. “Rise and shine.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We're coming,” Matt replied.

The brothers looked much alike, with sandy hair and big ears that stuck a little too far out from their narrow faces. They looked like twins, except the 15-year-old John suffered from acne that covered his face, and had a voice that was prone to cracking. Matt was 17, and his face had been free of acne for about a year now. The three of us had been best friends for the better part of our lives, but recently hadn't been as close

After a quick breakfast, we filed into the van, and headed to the climbing site. When we arrived, Mr. Prouty parked his car on the side of the road, next to a small cliff band. A VW Bus was parked in the same area, and next to it was a guy who looked to be in his mid-twenties, unloading gear from the back of the van. The adults walked up to the man, and introduced themselves. The three men came back to the van, and the stranger was introduced as our climbing guide, Guy.

“You guys ready to do some climbing?” He asked.

“Yeah,” we all replied, the early morning hour kept our enthusiasm lower than it should have been.

Guy had tan skin, probably from being outside so much, and a shaved head. His teeth weren't quite straight; the two front ones crossed each other, leaving small gaps on either side.

Guy gave us a brief tutorial about safety and equipment, then got us all set up. We slid into harnesses that, to say the least, were not very comfortable. When it was my turn to climb, I tied my harness to the rope that dangled from 50 feet above. I wasn't sure how I would make it that far, but it was worth a try. I was going to try to climb up the crack that went straight up the rock face. Thousands of years of ice melting and freezing the rock had left this crack here for our entertainment.

The rock was warm to the touch, and made my hands sweaty, so I reached to my back and dipped them in the small bag that contained chalk. With my fingers coated in the dusty white substance I would be able to get a better grip. The tattered red climbing shoes crammed my toes, but were a good extension of my feet, and allowed them to grip onto just about anything. I started shimmying up the climb, unsure of where to go when I heard a familiar voice below.

“Move your left foot a couple of inches over,” Guy said, directing me to a solid hold on the rock. “Good, now put your left hand on that little knob. Nope not that one, the one just to the left of it. There ya go, just like that.” Guy knew all the good holds on this climb, and with his help, I was finding my way to the top of the climb. At one point in the climb there seemed to be no other option then to jump to a large shelf just out of my reach. I gave it a try, but didn't catch the hold fast enough and fell. Guy had the rope securely locked off.

“I got ya,” he said. “You almost had it there. Give it another try, but this time try to use your legs more when you jump.”

I did what he said, and sure enough, caught hold of the shelf. With Guy's help, I made it the rest of the way up the climb, finally touching the carabiners at the top. Guy brought me safely back to the ground. My legs and arms were shaking, I was a little worn out. But, I was triumphant.

“Awesome job, man,” he said.

“Thanks, I don't think I could have done it without your help,” I replied.

“That's what I'm here for, little brotha,” Guy said, then resumed the conversation he was having with the rest of the group.

“Yeah, this is basically what I do,” Guy continued. “For the last four years I've been traveling around, living out of my van. I work as a guide when I need money, and get to climb every day.”

“Wow, that must be stressful,” Mr. Prouty said.

“Actually I love it. I get to spend all my time outside, it's pretty cool.”

“Yeah, that does sound cool.” I said, suddenly enthralled by this man.

“It works well for me,” he said. “Sometimes it's lonely, but I always have the rocks and my ropes, and in the end, that's all that matters.”

 

“It sounds like fun to me,” I chimed in, “I mean if it's what you really love doing.” I couldn't believe it. To me, Guy was living the dream. He got to do something he loved everyday, and even got paid for it sometimes.

“It is what I really want to do. I've spent time in Utah , California , Arizona . You name the place, I've probably done some climbing there,” Guy continued.

We climbed for the rest of the day, and by the time we were finished, every one of us was exhausted. Our arms were lifeless, and our grip was slack at best. My legs weren't very sore, but that is probably the reason why my arms hurt as much as they did. I was beat, and ready to relax.

We made it back to the campsite as the sun fell lower in the sky, projecting purples, oranges, and reds onto the few clouds scattered across the sky. We met at the picnic tables in the center of camp for dinner and another short discussion. A good member of our religion will never hesitate at the opportunity to teach anyone anything about it.

“So what did everyone think of Guy today?” Asked Mr. Miller, getting the discussion started.

“I thought he was a pretty cool guy,” I said, “pardon the pun.”

“Yeah, he was definitely all right,” Corey chimed in.

“He was real nice,” Matt said.

Everyone seemed to have liked him just fine.

“Yes, he was very nice,” continued Mr. Miller, “but let's think about some of the choices he has made. He is a man without any responsibility. He doesn't have a family, children, or even a home. He seems to be running from any and all responsibility.”

“He just seems to be doing what he likes to do,” I said. I wasn't really sure why I was defending the stranger, but the words just seemed to come out of my mouth.

“That may be true, but there are more important things in life,” Mr. Miller corrected me.

“We must remember what the Lord has commanded of us boys,” My. Prouty took over. “We can't just run from responsibility for our entire lives. We have obligations on the earth that we must keep so that we may have a successful afterlife.”

John and Matt eagerly nodded their heads, completely agreeing with the words. Nate and Corey also seemed to see truth in what was being said, but I couldn't tell if they were just putting on a show to please the adults or not.

The discussion ended, and we headed back to the tents. As I walked back, one word repeated itself over in my head. I could hear each and every sound the word made: bullshit. It was all bullshit. I just couldn't understand what was so wrong with being happy doing what you wanted to do. I was torn between two of the men who acted as my leaders and spiritual guides, and the climbing guide that had earned a deep respect from me earlier in the day. Suddenly, the church's rules seemed frivolous. I saw many of them as mere means of keeping members, or scaring people into subordination. Guy's choice seemed like a perfectly reasonable one to me, I failed to understand what was wrong with the decision. I failed to understand why I was a member, why I had been doing the things I had been doing for so much of my life. Maybe I was just upset, but it was something more. I couldn't think of a good reason for why I had stayed for so long. None of it seemed to make much sense. And I realized then, as I opened the door to my tent, that the reason was because that's what they told me to do. My parents, my leaders, my friends – it was what they expected, so it was what I did. I didn't want to do it anymore.

The tent was already dark, but Nate and Corey were nowhere near sleep. Once again, they waited until the other lights were out, then switched on a light, and dug a joint out of the bag.

“You ready?” Nate asked. He must have thought I was a regular smoker. He didn't realize that last night was my first time. I looked him in the eyes, and a smile broke across my face.

“Hell yeah I am,” I said.

We walked on the same path as the night before, smoked the joint and headed back to the tent. We got to the tent, and found that Mr. Prouty and Mr. Miller had been waiting for our return.

“Ok guys, just tell us what you did, and no one will be in trouble,” Mr. Miller said.

We all kept silent, we weren't really sure what we were in trouble for, and none of us were about to confess to something we didn't need to confess to.

Mr. Miller was still pretty young, and connected to the youth on a level that is often lost as one gets older. Mr. Prouty, John and Matt's dad, had long since lost that connection. He believed that any kids that weren't his own were up to no good. He may have been right.

“I noticed you guys left last night,” Mr. Prouty said, “and when you left again tonight, I took the liberty of finding out what you were doing. And suffice to say, I found this,” he said, as he pulled Corey's bag of weed from his pocket and let it dangle between his them and forefinger, “in your tent.”

“You guys are in trouble,” Mr. Miller said.

We were definitely in trouble.

“What is that?” Nate said, attempting a cover.

“You know what it is,” Mr. Prouty replied, his voice rising. “I should drive all of you back home right now, and tell your parents what you've been up to.”

“Oh, we don't need to do that, do we?” Corey pleaded.

“Well I'm definitely telling your parents, but you don't all have to leave if you just tell us whose it is,” Mr. Prouty replied.

Before Nate or Corey could even open their mouths, I said, “It's mine. It's mine, and so what. So we had a little fun, it sure beats following all your bullshit rules, or hearing you tell us how Guy is wrong for doing something he loves.”

Mr. Prouty wasn't prepared for that, and upon hearing it, his face reddened and his jaw clenched. “Pete, pack your things. You're going home. Clearly you don't want to be here.”

“You know what,” I said, “that's the first intelligent thing you have said all night. You're right. I don't want to be here. I would rather be anywhere, but here.”

In the car I didn't say a word. Mr. Prouty tried to apologize for having to come down so hard on me. I didn't say anything. He tried to explain why it was important to stay away from drugs. I didn't listen. I wouldn't listen. I was sick and tired of hearing it. Mr. Prouty gave up on communication, and in the silence that followed, all I could do was think about climbing, and the guide who had helped me get to the top of the crack in the rock – the guide with a life I wanted to make mine.