How do you say to a husband of 49 years that he is the love of your life, your best friend, your confidante, your back-scratcher, your partner in life? What could we do together as a couple during the COVID-19 pandemic?

I love visiting craft shops. He hates to shop. I love to read. He likes to be constantly busy. I love watching romantic movies. He likes boxing, sports, “American Pickers” and “Jay Leno’s Garage.” I love to paint. He likes hunting and fishing. I love to cook. He loves to eat what I cook. Hey! One out of five’s not bad.

Every time we passed this certain mountain ridge with a large bird sanctuary and hiking trails, we’d say, “One of these days we should visit.”

So I thought it would be the Supreme Sacrifice to do something he really enjoys … walking in the great outdoors. That’s romantic, right?

You would have thought I gave him a new rear end for his 1964 Chevy Super Sport Malibu!

I was determined to make it a fun day even if it killed me. (Foreshadowing? ESP?)

The sanctuary’s website assured me even a person who has a chair molded to her caboose most of the day could manage the trails. And I did start a walking routine a few months ago so I thought I could handle it. I read: “The trail to this lookout is groomed and can be accessed by motorized wheelchairs as well as by manual wheelchairs with assistance. Somehow I missed “TRAILS ARE ROCKY AND UNGRADED except the walk to South Lookout.”

The day dawned with rain showers but we forged ahead anyway, trusting the weather forecast of sunshine later in the morning. We packed snacks, water, rain gear, winter coats, lightweight sweatshirts, gloves, a camera, two sets of binoculars and enthusiasm. We were prepared for anything.

I thought.

We hit the first lookout. I was somewhat concerned. It was a huge pile of boulders and if you wanted to get the best view, you had to navigate over them. “Hmmm,” I thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a wheelchair that could negotiate something like this.”

By now I had ditched the gloves.

The path had become somewhat rocky. No. Let me rephrase that. It was scary rocky! I no longer held my head up high looking at the beautiful scenery. Nope. I was watching every step I took.

A woman who was obviously older than us easily passed, leaving us in her dust.

Another lady, about our age, also went around us.

A whole gaggle of seniors from The Over-the-Hill Personal Care Home came down off the mountain, smiling and chatting, negotiating the path like veteran mountain goats.

Harry checked on me often, offering a hand when he thought I needed it.

My coat was now tied around my waist.

On one of our many stops to give our ankles a break, (no pun), he asked me if I wanted to go on. I told him I was fine. Really. I was. I mean we were almost there.

We met a guy coming down and asked him how far until we reached the top.

“You’re more than halfway. I wouldn’t turn around now,” he said.

I pointed and gamely said, “Onward and upward!”

I don’t know at what point I started to hallucinate.

I recalled the words from the website: Can be accessed by motorized wheelchairs as well as by manual wheelchairs with assistance. An Army tank more like it, I thought.

I sensed we were not alone. I looked up. Somehow we had climbed our way right into Jurassic Park! A huge shadow darkened the sky above us. Pterodactyl! The wing span must have been at least 20 feet! Slow moving, it had spotted prime prey (ME!) below. I waited to be scooped up and carried off to a nest where three hungry baby pterodactyls waited for lunch!

“Wow!” Harry said. “That was a huge turkey buzzard!”

Turkey buzzard. Pterodactyl. Same thing.

When Harry asked again if I was still all right, I answered back cheerily, “Sure. Let’s do this!”

Now minus the sweatshirt.

Dying of thirst, I wondered why my pockets revealed only a camera and binoculars. “Water! My kingdom for water,” I panted.

I don’t think I was ever so glad to see the top of anything. Blue sky, wispy white clouds and a magnificent mountaintop view! My eyes drifted downward to search for a place to rest my weary bones. As far as my gaze roamed, there was nothing but boulders. I tried to find a nice flat rock to perch on to give my wobbly legs a chance to recoup and enjoy the amazing vista.

It became obvious that several other people also had the same idea. I looked around. Every nice flat boulder already had a butt on it. I contorted my body over several and tried to relax.

Two observer-interpreters were on site and pointed out specific hawk sightings. While others were ecstatically watching hawks, I was busy trying to prevent getting a deeper butt wedgie by not making any kind of sudden moves.

I swear to heaven, there were more senior citizens up there than at a nursing home Bingo game! Which made me feel even worse about how I was faring.

Now down to short sleeves and sweating profusely, I saw a grandmother arrive on the scene with her 4-year-old grandson. All I could think was “Is she nuts? Harry left his precarious perch to ask if I was ready to start down. Out of the blue, Sir Isaac Newton’s quote hit me: “What goes up, must come down.”

Yes, I made it to the top, but now I had to go down. Down. A mountain. On a jagged razor-blade path. OMG. I was going to die!

A vision of my obituary hit between my eyes: “A 69-year-old woman plunged to her death on her anniversary as her brokenhearted husband watched as she tripped and became impaled upon razor-sharp rocks.”

I visualized a map of the United States where the graph in the bottom right corner explained mountain ranges. In the west there are “Young Rugged Mountains” and in the east, “Old Worn Down Mountains.” As I looked down the path in front of me, nothing about it spoke “Old Worn Down.” Just me who felt very old and very worn down.

“Harry, what would we do if I fell, broke my ankle, sliced open my leg and couldn’t walk out of here? There’s no way they could get an ambulance up here. I don’t think they could even airlift me out because the tree coverage is so thick!”

And without a pause he just calmly replied, “I’d carry you out.”

Ahhhhh. Best anniversary present ever!

The rocky path finally morphed into a nice even path where we could walk side by side. A strong and steady hand reached for mine as we walked companionably the rest of the way. My rock. Steady and sure.

“How far do you think it was?” he asked me.

“It had to be at least 4-5 miles,” I replied confidently.

As we approached the ticket/information booth, we stopped to ask the same question.

“It’s about 1 mile up,” she said with a smile.

We walked away, stunned. “Why would she lie to us about that?” I asked.

Back at the car, we dumped all our stuff, gulped down bottles of water, and sat down in our seats. We drank some more. I started to giggle. Soon after, so did Harry. Suddenly it was the most hilarious joke and we were laughing aloud.

Later, after we came down off our mountain high, we agreed we were glad we did it but we would never do it again.

If nothing else, we made a wing-dinger of an anniversary memory.

I started to visualize next year’s. Warm tropical breezes. Beautiful sandy beach. Aquamarine waters. Beachchair service. Not a mountain trail in sight. Oh yeahhhhhhh.