Travel Journal, 14

Our tiny plane hummed and groaned and shook and rattled as we coursed through the Mexican sky, into the Sierra Madre Mountains. Below, I peer into the Copper Canyon, home of the famed “running tribe,” the Tarahumara. Our destination lay not far ahead. In fact, the people we were visiting are missionaries to the Tarahumara people. Canyon after peak after sheer-falling cliff passed by in that slow-but-really-actually-fast way that things seem to pass beneath you when you are flying. We typically fly commercially. But not here. Commercial flights don’t go where we were going. It takes 12 hours by 4×4 vehicle on laughable roads to get to this part of Mexico.

“Is that the strip?” I ask, in a semi-confused tone. The questionably short, dirt landing strip was perched on a plateau at nearly 9,000 feet above sea level. What made it slightly terrifying was that it was on a hill. An actual hill. When the plane lands, it lands up hill. When the plane takes off, it takes off down the hill. With expert skill, our pilot adjusted flaps, airspeed, and altitude and gently lighted us back to earth.

Stumbling out of the plane, we took a deep breath. This whole trip had been nonstop hustle. From Minneapolis to Salt Lake to El Paso we flew. Then we drove the five hours from the boarder to Chihuahua City. We ate late night dinners in friendly homes. Rose early to go here and see that. Greet this person and go to that meeting. Spend unexpected two hours on phone. And then jump on 4-seat Cessna 206 to fly two more hours. It was absolutely worth it. But it was also terrifically exhausting.

And yet, here we stood—taking in this view, this mountain air. This excursion to the mountains was exactly what we needed.

We went on a hike before supper. What could be better? But as we trotted along the edge of the plateau, we were getting more and more tired. Perhaps the long week was catching up with us. Our hike was getting brutal, despite the easy trail. We were sucking wind hard by the time we got back to the house.

We both felt terrible. Dizziness, slight headaches, and on top of it, we were both very pale.

Technology is great. So is medical knowledge. I have an app on my phone that will measure oxygen saturation (spO2) in the blood. And as a paramedic, I kind of already knew what was going on. And the 90% spO2 reading on my phone confirmed.

Altitude sickness.

In Minnesota, we live at 1,100 feet. And this day we had flown directly to 9,000 feet and went for a hike. Fortunately, our symptoms were not life threatening. But that night we laid there in bed, literally struggling to breath. That being said, our trip to the mountains was indeed wonderful.

One could say that it took our breath away.

anthony forrest