I’m not going to make it the top. That’s a harsh realization even though this is a scouting mission. I’m supposed to just see the mountain to just prepare for the ultimate trip in March, but I be lying if I said that I didn’t harbor this belief that I might just make it now. We haven’t even reached the trailhead and I know that I won’t reach the top.

I know that I won’t because my guide Dave Penney speed hiked to the top his first couple of days in town. He knows my ability and the ability of the rig as well as I do, and his comment was, “No way.” That sounds pretty definite. Then the airline failed to deliver my wheels, kind of an important part of my journey. We’ve been forced to push our start off another day—yet another reminder of how the best laid plans can fall apart at any point on the mountain.

So where does that leave me? It leaves me realizing that reaching the top is not necessarily the ultimate goal—or not necessarily the only goal. Once I read a book on the Dalai Lama in which the author asked his highness what enlightenment was like. The Dalai Lama replied that he hadn’t reached enlightenment, which he saw as a mountain. He was on that mountain and knew that he would reach the top, but had not yet. If he didn’t know enlightenment, then how could anyone else?

I’m not sure that enlightenment is my goal. From the beginning I’ve said that this project is for other people. I want to shine a light on the disabled community. I want to minimize the barriers between us with “Nametags,” but ultimately this is my journey whether I want to admit it or not. Climbing the mountain appeals to me because it will stretch me to and probably past my limits. If enlightenment exists on this trip that’s most likely where it will lie—when I’m just to tired to think—or too tired to defend those beliefs that I’ve held so dear—when I finally let go.

The mountain, the journey, and the experience deserve respect, even reverence. If I succeeded this time, it might denigrate the effect. We are just starting on this journey. While I’ve trained some, I’ve just begun my process, which has been far from scientific thus far. While we’ve greatly enhanced the rig’s ability, we’ve only just begun. If I were to summit now, it would seem too easy—and I think it will be anything but. It will be one of the hardest things of my life. If everything goes well, I will climb for about nine to ten hours a day for eight days. I’m not sure that I’m ready for that, and I doubt that I’m fast enough to reach each camp successfully.

If this is my journey, I want to be stripped naked. Giving my best when I don’t have a chance of success has always been my biggest obstacle. I’ve always saved something for the future—something so that I could still feel successful. Well, this trip is about my best or more than my best. It’s about being naked. It’s about being vulnerable. It’s about being honest. Those sound like easy things until I try them. My journey is for others, and my journey is for myself. I’ve created an environment in which I will succeed or fail spectacularly and publicly. Realizing that I most likely will not reach the top—that I will not preserve this “ever successful” image of myself—is the first step in that journey, but that’s not to say that I won’t still try to defy the odds.

We’re off to Tanzania tomorrow for a three-week scouting trip. We’ll spend eight days on the mountain and another ten visiting children’s hospitals, rehab centers and other places looking for wheelchair donation prospects. If possible, we’d like to create a bond with the Tanzanian people.

This whole project is coming together. When I first started to think about it, I envisioned an all-encompassing effort. Climbing the mountain would be a significant part, but making the impression that I wanted meant finding a way to make people notice me, and the disabled community. We’re on our way to doing that. Our educational program, “Nametags,” has had three successful events—many more to come when school resumes. You can see parts of one on the homepage video. The documentary movie is taking shape exactly the way that I hoped. We’re on the verge of partnering with a major force in the industry. They will bring on sponsors. Our voice could get much bigger. Often I ask myself if this is all really happening. I think it is and I hope it continues along its present path.

Tomorrow marks the beginning of the next phase. My production crew of five, plus guide and doctor, who also has a film background, will fly more hours than I want to imagine. We’ll learn what we don’t know, or at least a good portion of it. The climb makes me excited and nervous all at the same time. With some of our recent testing I feel that I should be able make it up a fair amount of the mountain. I said I should. That’s the question. What can I really do? I average about a mile an hour. Following the typical hiker’s schedule, I would do about 15k or 9.3 miles a day. At my present speed, that would take me at least nine hours.

I climbed for nine hours last week up Crested Butte Mountain. On the way back to my guide Dave’s house, we finally descended to the bike path—flat and smooth. The pavement turned to gravel and I felt the resistance rise. I asked Dave how far his house was. He said just on the other side of that house. It wasn’t more than 100 yards, yet a little voice in my head, or arms—it was tough to tell where it came from because everything was numb—wondered if I’d make it. I did, partially because I didn’t want to look like a weenie in front of Dave, but I was flat exhausted. I can’t imagine what eight days like that might do to me.

I can’t imagine, but I’m about to find out. We start the climb on Thursday. I doubt that I will make it all the way to the first hut that first day. We’ll be forced to camp somewhere along the way. The vehicle, at least before the flight, is in great shape, although it’s heavy. It weighs 83 pounds, or 57% of my 145 pound body weight. The vehicle, my fitness, and our knowledge of the mountain, all leave a bit to be desired—I’m just not sure how much.

Please come back to this site. I’ll update you as best I can on my progress, though I’m really not sure how my USB connect  (not even sure if you call that—it’s the computer thingy that allows or should allow me to connect) will work over there, and then there’s the issue of hard drives not working above 10,000 feet. I don’t know either of these from personal experience, but I’ll try my best to tell the story. I might have to write it all in my journal and then transcribe it when I get back down for the July 4^th celebrations in Tanzania. Okay, they might not celebrate over there, but I expect some fireworks.