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by Coach Meagles

We often think about the physical requirements of a physical task or challenge, but considering the emotional and spiritual elements may enrich the overall experience.  

 

7/16/2008.  We have safely returned from the summit of Gannett. What an adventure!! I hope I never forget it. I woke up shortly after 1am to the sound of others getting ready. Someone walked past me with their headlamp on and instantly I was awake, excited, nervous.  We made breakfast in the dark, and we weren’t sure if we were going to attempt or not as there were clouds overhead and a few drops of rain fell. But at 2:30a when we gathered around, Garrett said ‘Well, we’re going to give it the old college try!’ So we went for it. I must admit, I was pretty unexcited at first. It was dark, I was nervous and we were going up talus and scree pretty quickly and I just kept thinking: I could be warm in my sleeping bag! But after booking it for about 45 minutes we got to the glacier and roped up. Then, we slowed down as Garrettt lead the first rope team and kicked steps up the steep ascent. At that point, the sky had cleared up and the stars were beautiful. And us? All I could see were vague silhouettes and headlamps glowing on the snow. I couldn’t help but happily admire us— just little orbs on the mountain slope. At that point, I was very happy to be where I was. Val aptly said she felt like a real adventurer. And we are! Climbing just to get to the top. 

Soon after, it began to dawn. What a gentle and beautiful process. The colors soft— softly— begin to lighten. All the colors are present in the dawn; at the horizon is a pinky, rosy-red that blends into orange and then a thin, happy strip of yellow with a hint of green above. The fading night is the blue that deepens to a midnight-blue/purple as you look west (and can still see the stars!). Dawn: what an amazing time! And when the sun was ready to come up, it lit the edges of an eastern cloud on fire before popping over the edge. What an amazing time and what an amazing view! To be perfectly honest, the climb wasn’t that hard. Of course we were roped in and had snow and rock pros placed, but still. The scariest part was walking the ridge of the summit. It was ‘exposed’ to say the least. I could see down the mountain on either side. Luckily it was flat and sort of wide because falling wasn’t an option. And the summit? Well, it was breathtaking and impossible to take in. I asked Rachel “How do you capture this?” and she replied simply “you don’t.”

— my journal entry on day 24 of a 30 day National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS) mountaineering trip in the Wind River Mountain Range in Wyoming. On this particular day, my group of 12 students (myself included) and three instructors summited the tallest mountain in Wyoming: Gannett peak (13,804 ft). 

Signing up for the NOLS course was one of the more random decisions I have made in my life. I was 24 years old, had saved up what I could since graduating college for what I thought would be a trip to Europe, but after the opportunity to spend some time in Amsterdam for free fell into my lap, I decided I wanted to do something completely foreign to me with the time and money. Someone suggested NOLS and after looking over their website and exploring the courses they offered [for no more than 15 minutes], I decided to give the mountaineering trip a try.  

Prepping for the trip was exciting, but when I got to Lander, Wyoming, I cried. I called my mom and asked her why had I quit my job, spent thousands of dollars on the course, equipment, and travel to Wyoming to spend a month mountaineering when I had never been camping; not even once. I felt impetuous and stupid when I looked around at the other students, who had brought their own mountaineering backpacks and held books about Everest in their hands. I realized I was out of my element and had put myself there and, ergo, had no one to blame. I laugh now thinking about how stressed I was because what I didn’t realize was that I embarking on one of the most impactful adventures of my life.  

Not 12 hours after we were dropped off at the trailhead and began our journey, my attitude changed. The noise of my mind and my environment was quieted; all the worry left and the curious opened up. I felt ready for anything, though I still did not now just how much of an impression this trip would make on me. I knew NOLS would be instructional (I knew we would be taught Leave No Trace, how to pitch a tent, set a rock climbing anchor, rope-in for glacier hiking, set up a bear fence) but I didn’t expect the course to cover how to make the most of, or at least, how to explore, the spiritual side of spending a month in the mountains— it wasn’t just, ‘here is some lovely wilderness and here is how you survive in the lovely wilderness’ but, ‘what does it mean to be here?' 

To this day, I still reread over my old entries often, look at pictures from the trip, and can vividly remember the day, the events, and the feelings I had. Nothing was insignificant and each moment worth savoring. Because of this, I have always wanted backpacking to be my next sport (once Ultimate Frisbee takes up less of my time) and while I’m still an active player, next month I will take the next step in growing as a backpacker: an uninstructed hike in California. While I won’t be leaving for nearly as long, nor will the terrain be as trying, (not to mention, no glaciers) I will be hiking the 30+ mile Skyline to the Sea trail in Northern California with Tennessee.   

In preparation for the trip, not only have I added weighted walks to my current sport-specific training regime to acclimate to backpacking over terrain, and begun reacquainting myself with my propane stove and Leave No Trace, but I am also rereading my old journal to remind myself of what we did to acknowledge and process the spiritual experience of the trip. Each night, we shared appreciations for one another and the environment (no doubt Justin would approve), observations of our surroundings or our own capabilities, and sometimes we would pause for silent meditation or reflection from a tough day only to find there was still so much amazement to explore in a trying experience. I know the hike will be beautiful regardless, but I know it will be so much more meaningful when we take that into consideration as we go.    

 

  • With Murph day and summer adventures (or even just your daily training) looming before many of you here at Windy City, are there times and places you could pause and reflect to get more out of your experience?  Can the practice help in the day to day, as well?

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