Back in September I was hiking up Guadalupe Peak with two friends. We had just done an overnight the night before up a trail with 2000 ft of gain and then back down again that morning before we started on the trail to the peak. We'd made it to about 1200 ft above the parking lot and were making good time, when we stopped momentarily at the turn of a switchback to get our bearings and enjoy the view.

Now to protect the innocent, let's call my friends Paul and Art. Paul points to a flat wooded spot roughly 1000 ft above us and says "I think that's where the camp is". Art looks up to where Paul is pointing and suddenly, his knees give out from under him. He ineffectively grabs at Paul, but he can't hold on; he's going down, flat on his face, and he's out cold.

Now, there could have been any number of life threatening medical issues going on, but long story short, Art ended up being fine. When he came to, we all came slowly back down, together, and he got checked out by an EMT.

Thing is, it's a 12 hour drive for me out to GUMO, and we had to get back the next day. On top of that, I don't get out much, as budget is limited and commitments monoplize my time. It was really hard for me to turn around, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Once I'd made the decision, and Paul mentioned going for pizza, it was a lot easier . GUMO will always be there, but you've got to look out for your friends.