Camelback Mountain

A few years ago, I, along with two of our attorneys, had the good fortune to attend an Employment and Labor Law conference at the Biltmore Hotel in Phoenix, Arizona. One of my law partners still reminds me of how he was in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula giving a presentation while I was at the Biltmore. There have been plenty of times where the situations have been reversed. Well, maybe not plenty but at least a few. Enough to smooth away the gnawing edges of guilt which returns from time to time. But I digress.

Between sessions, we sit outside, nibble on sandwiches and salads atop glass tables, feet resting on the stone patio. We take in the greenery, pool, flowers, varied levels of the hotel rooms, the vista beyond. Looming above it all in the distance… Camelback Mountain. It’s beautiful really. Beckoning. Seducing. Steadfast. Strong. Dependable. It’s certainly not going anywhere.

It’s not long before we’re digesting not only our food but trail maps and nearby conversations:

--We climbed yesterday it was awesome.

--We bought some gloves and had our shoes so it was all good.

Gloves? Shoes? Hmmm… passing thoughts though…

We attend the afternoon sessions and then plan to hike after. I know. That’s just how we are. Conscientious. You would think that as attorneys we would research all the different trails, level of difficulty, time involved, etc. in order to choose the appropriate trail. But no. We just decide on the closest one. Seemed pretty logical at the time. Attorneys, mountains, and logic. Gotta love it.

And so, my attorneys and I… and I can’t really say their ages, but let’s just say I have about 20 years on them… But you know, I’m in good shape… so what the hell, let’s go. Where is it to that ‘ole trailhead anyway?

When we meet up, I notice Tom is wearing hiking boots. Hiking boots? Really?

--Ummmm. Where did you get the hiking boots?

--I’ve had them. Bought them when I went hiking around Europe. Haven’t used them in a while. But thought since I was coming out here I might as well bring them.

My feet are glaring at me.

Erin is decked out in new work out/hiking attire. She purchased it because, well, she was coming to Arizona and there might be hiking involved. Me? Yeah. Jean shorts (jorts!). Old Detroit t-shirt.

The first part of the mountain seems pretty simple. It’s not a steep incline. Wide path. Loose sand but not like a beach. Enough traction. But nonetheless, my pace is not quite as quick as I would like it to be. Not as I would like because my pace is not keeping up with the heels of the millennials in front of me. Not to say they’re not being nice about it. They’re stopping from time to time and turning back to see how I’m doing. Much like one does with a small toddler. But as we approach the first plateau I make a decision.

--You guys go on ahead, I say. As I sit down and swig on my water bottle. (Somewhat ruggedly, I thought)

--You sure? No we can wait.

--No. Really. You guys head on up. I’ll go up at my own speed. I’ll be fine. (Secretly I’m thinking, as soon as they’re out of sight, I’m back down the side of this mountain) I smile…

--Okay, they say, turning once again to check on my viability before stepping away, with a little too much spring and speed in their step.

I sit. I drink. I think.

--How ya’ doin? She asks.

I hadn’t noticed this petite mountain climbing woman, hair and skin bleached and tanned by the sun, standing next to me, nor when she had appeared.

--I’m good.

--You goin’ up?

--No. Goin’ back down, I say as I take another swig out of the corner of my mouth.

--You gotta go up farther. I’m 50. And if I can do it; you can do it.

Now one thing you never do when someone thinks they are older than you. You never correct that person. And so I do not.

--Look. I climb this mountain every day.

I notice the frayed diluted mint green day pack on her back. Her scuffed and scraped hiking shoes. Her once white but now grey gloves. Her preparedness.

--Come with me. I know the easiest route up. The ins and outs. I’ll go with you. Show you the way. She holds out her hand.

I look at her. The mountain up. The mountain down.

Her fingers wiggle at me.

I take her hand.

The next section turns from dusty soil into solid rocks. Steps. No handrails. Big steps for those of small stature. Hell. Big steps for those of big stature.

--Stay to the left.

--But to the left is closer to the edge, I say. And closer to the edge is closer to falling.

--The steps are smaller on this side.

Looking down, I see that she’s right. Focusing on staying on the “correct” side of the path so as not to interfere with the descending climbers, so as not to venture too close to the edge, I missed the obvious.

---I climb every day. There’ve been people who have fallen. That’s why they’ve started the renovations. The handrails. You’ll see those up here a bit. Do you want to rest?

I did.

We sat. We drank. She carried my water bottle in her backpack.

--You know my father was the mayor at Phoenix at one point. I don’t tell people that. They think of you differently somehow. I was never much into politics. I just like the mountains. They don’t talk. I just climb. Come here every day and climb.

--The next stretch is more difficult. But you can make it. I’ll be with you with each step.

And it was more difficult. Steeper steps. Handrails, but huge gaps and holes. My guide persevered and I along with her.

As we reached the next plateau, I could see cacti crowned with blossoming flowers, the city below, the mountain peak above.

--It’s time to turn around and go back down, she tells me.

I’m looking at the top. It’s sooooo close.

--If we don’t go back now, it will be dark. It will be hard to get back down the mountain in the dark. The animals come back out to claim their territory in the dark. The holes you saw coming up the side of the mountain. That’s where the snakes live. They return at night. It’s time to go back down.

My younger self would have pushed on, anxious to reach the top. I would have wanted to tell everyone of my success, climbing to the top, not wanting to have been defeated by stopping before doing so.

My then-self turned to go, looking round at the peak that would have to wait for another day.

We reach the bottom as the sun sets. The attorneys? Still up on the mountain somewhere. Cell phone coverage is spotty. It is dark. I wait. I call. No answer.

A call. But it is not one of my attorneys. It is the health clinic at Interlochen, where my daughter attends high school. She is okay. Permission is needed to treat her. Upper respiratory infection.

--Hi sweetie… oh you sound terrible… ummm just a minute darlin'...

--Where are you guys? Are you ok? So you did get to the top? Good for you. That’s great. How far yet do you have to go to get down?

They are not quite sure where they are on the mountain. They are having trouble seeing. They have the lights on their cell phones and are making their way down very slowly.

--Be careful—

--Sophina, ok. You’re going to be fine. When I get back from Arizona, I’ll be up to Interlochen to see you. One more day… Night. Night. Feel better.

I wait. I watch the little lights coming down the mountain.

I can see the headlines now. Attorneys climb Camelback Mountain. Two attorneys lost in dark.

I wait some more.

I call. No answer.

I wait for two hours.

Finally… attached to two of those little lights they appear.

No attorney left behind.

I later learn we climbed Echo Canyon Trail. Difficulty: Extreme.

Lessons learned on Camelback Mountain: Go at your own pace. Know when to accept a helping hand. Don’t lose sight of the obvious and sometimes easier path. Rest is necessary. Better to be prepared than not. You never know where encouragement will come from but when you need it, it will appear. Persevere. Know when to save the peak for another day. Success and defeat is how you choose to define it. Always look out for someone else’s kids--Because someone else is looking out for yours.

Patricia Nemeth received her Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of Michigan (Ann Arbor). She earned her Juris Doctorate and Masters of Labor Law degree from Wayne State University School of Law. She is the founding partner of Nemeth Law, P.C. which is celebrating its 25th Anniversary in 2017. Patricia decided to start a personal blog because she wanted to write about topics other than the law.