Adventures in Boyland (part 1): Don't patronize me with your Clif bars

When I climbed Timp, my friend David's new roommate went with us. I had never met him before. He told us how he had done wilderness survival with the Army and when we got to the trail head, he took off because he wanted to try to make it to the top "in a few hours."

It wasn't even half an hour before he came back: "I'm going to walk with you guys, if you don't mind." He walked by me and told me about why he had joined the church--because he identified with Porter Rockwell, and if lost, "drunkard" men like that could convert and love the Lord, he knew he could do it, too. He seemed solid enough.

But the higher up we got, the weirder things got. I had packed way too much food and had tons of water, but he would say, "Are you hungry? Have you eaten? Eat this from my pack." I told him thanks, I was fine, and he insisted, "You'll need it." (It was the expensive stuff, too.) Nice enough. We'd be walking and he would turn around and say, "Are you tired? Do you need a rest?" I never did; I'd tell him thanks, I'm fine. Sometimes he'd insist. Nice enough. He offered to carry a lot of our water--nice enough--and bustled that it was one of his heaviest packs but that he could still do it.

At last we came to an ice bridge. The boys had already crossed and were waiting for us. "Alright," he said, standing right up and pumping out his chest, "here's what we're going to do. We're going to come get your packs from you, bring them over, and then lead you over by the hand."

I stared at him. I wasn't tired, I wasn't afraid, I had come to this mountain to show myself I was strong. "I can do it," I said, and I crossed with ease. "Oookay, touché. You sure can," he said.

I don't have any pictures that day from Timp, but if I did--though he was a nice guy--I'd have a picture of the day I decided was my last of being patronized in life.