Meet Brad, A two decade buddy.
He's my hero and baby brother for two reasons:
A) Brad beat cancer twice.
B) He came up huge after my car/bicycle accident and proved to be the ultimate buddy.
Here's the tale: As I laid supine on an uncomfortable backboard in the ER, decked out in a neck brace, IV's running into me, blood oozing out of me and a heart monitor on. I made emergency phone calls. Let me tell you, no one picks up the mobile when you really need HELP! After I ran the gamut of family members. (I batted 0-6 on those.) I started calling friends. One of the first was Brad. Of course he didn't pick up.
"Dude! I got hit my a car. I'm f--ked up! That climb up Mount Whitney is not going to happen for me. Get someone else to go with you. Maybe Jonathan. I'm scared as hell too! Bye!"
When I eventually healed and got my strength back, Brad phoned me. Unlike everyone else on the planet, I picked up the call. Here's what my hero said.
"Dude! You were cheated on Whitney. I'll get the permits for a backpack trip. We'll summit on our last day of hiking. Interested?"
Was I interested?
Do chimpanzees eat bananas? Is Antarctica nippy? Do the Yankees have fans in the Bronx?
Heck yeah! It was then Brad unknowingly became a member of the exclusive Sambur clan. (We are small in numbers and stature).
It was an amazing backpack trip in the Sierra Nevada. The scenery is such, once in awhile I was forced to sit down to take it all in. I nearly cried a few times. (Manly men can cry too)
The finale was my first ascent of Whitney (14,505') and Brad's second. BTW. It's the highest point in the Lower 48.
Brad took one for the team. That's an unselfish act. Doesn't that qualify as a brother from another Mother? I vote yes.
Tomorrow, we'll begin a four-day 40 mile backpack trip in the Grand Canyon.
This ought to be fun.
On the road again...