"The summit is what drives us, but the climb itself is what matters."
Renowned rock climber, mountaineer, and author Conrad Anker once said this, and as a novice hiker and mountain climber, these words resonate deeply with me. More than half the battle—perhaps even more—is the mental fortitude needed to persist through pain, fatigue, and the allure of turning back.
My first mountain ascent was two years ago, in 2022, during a family trip to Glenwood Springs, CO. We aimed to hike to Hanging Lake, a nearly vertical 1.2 mile trek with 1,000 feet of elevation gain over rocky terrain for which I was clearly unprepared. Access to the trail requires a reservation due to limited space, scheduled in 2-hour increments for hikers. Despite my doubts, my wife believed in my abilities. I struggled nearly the entire way, but we paced ourselves with frequent rests and water breaks. The scenery was breathtaking—the air crisp, the streams clear and pure. Progress was marked by crossing seven bridges until finally reaching the serene lake. Arriving there, I was moved to tears. After regaining my strength, I summoned the courage to climb higher to witness water cascading from the peak. Showering under the icy waterfall, filling our Yetis with refreshing water, we began our descent. The roundtrip took me almost 5 hours, none of which I regret.
I've learned much from climbing, including the importance of quality hiking poles, the humility in being passed by serious hikers, and the camaraderie among climbers. Waterproof boots, I learned the hard way, are essential. Recently, at Inspiration Point near Jenny Lake in the Grand Tetons, I reflected on the contrast between myself and some very serious, rushing climbers. I had just spotted a resting moose! I saw the most beautiful and vibrant wildflowers! Why were they racing and missing such awesome nature? I realized in this moment that I was rolling my eyes at them. I was most definitely judging them as much as they may have judged my naivety and slow crawl. Another great lesson that our climbs are each very personal—unique journeys of discovery, beauty, achievement and perhaps newfound purpose.
Since Hanging Lake, including a challenging ascent of Black Elk Peak in Rapid City, SD last spring (nearly my undoing), I've climbed several mountains despite a hip replacement in July 2023 halting my running aspirations (insert sarcasm; I've never been a runner). Walking 5Ks and scaling peaks are my new challenges. Everest isn't my goal, but experiencing these stunning places before I can no longer climb is.
Where are you on your climb? Nearly at the summit, halfway up, or just starting? Wherever you are, remember to pause for wildflowers and know you're never alone—especially at the top.
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