False Summit

It’s 12:00 p.m. on Sunday, July 30, 2023, and I’m lounging at the beach enjoying the white sands and green waters of Florida’s Emerald Coast. Today is my 40th birthday and a relaxing getaway is exactly what I needed after a two-week road trip out west, where I hiked the highest peaks of Colorado and Arizona. The reasoning behind my latest excursion was simple: if I’m going to be “over the hill,” then I might as well be standing on top of a mountain.

A lot has happened in the 10 months since I wrote my last blog entry, starting with a belated honeymoon to Hawaii on Christmas Day, 2022. My wife and I arrived on the Big Island two weeks after Mauna Loa, the largest active volcano in the world, stopped erupting. I was disappointed to miss this incredible spectacle in person, but I was also relieved to learn the lava flow hadn't reached the highway that runs through the center of the island. If it had, then I wouldn’t have been able to hike sister volcano, Mauna Kea, the highest point in the state.

The hike to the Mauna Kea summit was my most challenging to date. Three days before I arrived, a winter storm with 100 mph winds and snow drifts as high as 10 feet blanketed the higher elevations. The usually rocky trail gave way to snow around 12,000 feet, and each step I took from then on out turned into a slow trudge. Altitude sickness also played a factor so much so that by the time I reached the cold, windy summit, I felt like my head and lungs were going to explode.

Thankfully, the rest of our time in Hawaii was easygoing. We explored Volcanoes National Park and visited the Big Island’s black and green sand beaches, then we flew to Maui and drove the famous Road to Hana and its 600+ hairpin turns. The island of Kauai was easily my favorite because of its laidback vibes. You might even recognize the wrinkled coastline of Na Pali from the opening helicopter scene in the original Jurassic Park movie.

When we returned stateside, my focus shifted out of vacation mode and back to my writing. I made some headway over the next five months, writing a handful of new chapters and adding important features to my ever-evolving bird world map. Things were moving in the right direction until summer rolled around and another round of travel ensued.

Reluctantly, I said goodbye to Maven and Co. and flew back to France with my wife to visit family and to celebrate my father-in-law’s 70th birthday. I use the word reluctantly because writing grooves are hard to come by. When you’re in one, you don’t necessarily want to get out. It’s better to ride the creative wave all the way back to your shore on your own volition.

Don’t get me wrong. I love to travel. There are few things better in life than being spoiled with fine French wines and amazing cuisine. On this trip, we visited the cities of Vendome and Blois in the Loire Valley, then made our way to the Brittany region, where we explored the port city of Saint-Malo and stayed in the coastal village of Arzon at the entrance to the Gulf of Morbihan.

We returned to Texas at the end of June, added a second cat, named Leo, to our growing family, and I spent the next two weeks catching up on work, all the while knowing that I needed to pick up the pace on my conditioning if I was to stand any chance of hiking Mt. Elbert, which, at 14,440 feet in elevation, is the second tallest mountain in the contiguous United States.

I had tried to keep active while in France, running along the coast and working out on the days we weren’t traveling, but Colorado’s thin mountain air concerned me, especially after my struggles in Hawaii. A buddy of mine suggested that I train with an altitude mask. I was skeptical at first but noticed an improvement in my cardio by the end of the first week. Wearing the mask made me look like the supervillain Bane from the Batman movie, The Dark Knight Rises, and I made an effort to send creepy photos to friends and family whenever I needed a good laugh.

I hit the road on July 12, taking the long route through Kansas and checking off my 34th highpoint with a visit to Mt. Sunflower. Three days later, I began my trek up Colorado’s tallest mountain. I hiked with three friends from Colorado, who made quick work of the forested trails, walking at a brisk pace that I would have struggled to maintain if not for my previous training with the Bane mask.  

The real challenge began higher up when I encountered my first false summit. A false summit is a peak that appears to be the true summit of a mountain; however, upon reaching the top, you realize there is still a higher peak left to climb. Mt. Elbert had two of these, and Mt. Humphreys in Arizona had three. These false summits can be incredibly demoralizing, and I often have to remind myself that I’ve come to far to turn back now.

On a clear day, the views from any mountain summit are hard to beat, and standing on top of the highest points of both Colorado and Arizona were no different. In Colorado, the Rocky Mountains were on full display with prominent 14,000+ peaks known as “Fourtneeners” rising in the distance. Arizona was just as scenic with the landscape shifting from mountains to forests, to desert plateau, until finally reaching the rim of the Grand Canyon some 80 miles away.

As I was descending Mt. Humphreys in Arizona, I heard the unmistakable croaks of ravens and saw several of them sliding down a patch of snow. I stayed there a few minutes watching them play until they eventually took to the sky, using the high-altitude winds as their own personal playground. One swooped down less than five feet from me, glided in a straight line along the trail where I was standing, then shot high into the air to rejoin the others. I immediately thought about Maven and couldn’t help but smile.

Back on Emerald Beach in Florida, my twin brother made a snarky comment to me earlier today, claiming that I’ve been on vacation for the past six months. It was an obvious exaggeration, but I suppose I have done quite a bit of traveling this summer. Do I regret it? In the past, maybe I would have, but not now. Not at 40. And most definitely not with a baby on the way.

Yup, that’s right. My wife is a month away from giving birth to our son, Samuel Asher Hernandez. Samuel means “God has heard,” and Asher, “happy and blessed,” which is exactly how I feel right now as I enter this new stage in my life. Unfortunately, I have yet to finish my book and reach my true summit like I had hoped, but something deep down won’t allow me to stop climbing until I do. In the meantime, a false summit is still a summit, and I’m very much looking forward to all the new views that fatherhood has to offer.

Follow me on Instagram at @Joshua_Maven or @HonchotheVan, on Twitter @MaventheRaven or Facebook at Facebook/TheLastImperial.