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| True mountain warrior |
We weren’t technically running, but I was moving as fast as my legs would carry me up the switchbacks. Leaving the main trail and starting up the steep climbers trail, sweat soaks my shirt and drips from my brow.
“How you guys doing? Not moving too slow for you, am I?” I
call back to Zachary and Joe. They are sucking wind, but matching my quick
low strides. Zachary chatting about big days fighting wild fires; Joe right on
his heels bouncing up the scree slope in flip flops.
Zachary planted the idea of spending the night on top of a
mountain, where we could bath in the monochrome fireworks of the Perseid meteor
shower. Eyes shining behind rectangular wire-frame glasses, he enlisted me as
the rope gun. To keep it sporting, I had upped the ante with a bigger, harder
route. In his happy-go-lucky way, Joe joined the team a half hour before the
end of the workday.
As the three of us not-quite-run toward the South Early
Winters Spire, my mind wanders through the what-ifs and strategies to pull this
mission off. I mention the need to get above the crux of the climb before the
sun completely disappears. They only have a vague idea of what they signed up
for.
We reach the base of the Southwest Rib at 7pm. I chew on a
bar, and assemble my climbing equipment. Shouldering my overnight pack and
looking up at the first pitch, the thrill of adventure adds a renewed spring to
my step. I tie into the rope and take off.
“Put me on belay eventually.”
They are still sorting gear, eating, and swatting
mosquitoes. It may appear reckless, but alpinism is not folly. My movement is
sure and intentional; climbing fast pulls you close to the margins, where
confidence is safety. It’s 40 feet before I can stop and get some decent
protection. Before that, the boys can hydrate and repack their bags. No need
for a belay. Warm golden light paints the 900 ft granite stump above as the sun
settles between distant mountaintops.
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| We shared the route with a few other climbers |
My thoughts have been occupied with the concept of being a
warrior. I have been reflecting on how to be more intentional. Being a warrior
against the challenges of love, work, friends and family is more complicated
than climbing, but there are some common truths. We celebrate instant
gratification in our culture, and are led to believe that there is an easier path.
Divorce, desk jobs, and social media allow us to lower our guard. When I look
closely at why my life gets complicated, I find places I am leaking energy and
recoiling from the hard parts. If it were easy, it wouldn’t be worthwhile.
Instability, change, and suffering are unavoidable. Rather than looking forward
to peace and quiet, I must lean against the jagged edge and fight with the
expectation that it will only get harder.
On the side of the South Early Winters Spire, in the fading
alpenglow, Zachary is holding onto a different kind of jagged edge, 300 feet
above the ground. “I think this is above my pay grade, Calvin!” He grunts and
puffs like a bear, as he wrestles the “zig zag crack” and his backpack. He is
having type 2 fun, he just doesn’t realize it, yet.
This is our first time roping up together, and I enjoy his
careful and stubborn nature. He’s built for these mountains, and continues
upwards even as he mutters about the “plus rating”.
30 feet below, Joe climbs with effortless grace. He has the
long legged spider style that I will never have. My style is closer to that of
an orangutan, swinging and dancing up the cracks and ledges. As I start up the
“Bear Hug Pitch” the sun has dipped below the horizon.
Nobody does this.
Halfway up the pitch I have a moment. I am overcome with
gratitude and love. It is a superlative moment. The best way I could possibly
spend my night. I reach a ledge and build an anchor as the light finally gives
out. The moment is perfect because I had to be uncomfortable to get here. I
have trained myself to associate the suffering on climbs with fun. Embracing
the warrior’s quest means welcoming each test, and pushing myself further than
I thought possible. In climbing the struggle is something I have learned to
welcome. The climbs that push me are the most satisfying. How can I shift my
thinking in the rest of my life?
Anyone watching our headlamps on the side of the mountain
would have thought we were having an epic, but the adventure continued on into
the night as planned. We reach the summit at 11pm. Traversing across the summit
ridge, we are like astronauts walking through space. After locating a few bivy spots scattered near the summit,
we wolf down a dinner of left over French toast and cheese. The darkness belies
our precarious position on the spire, and before long we settle into the
comfort of our sleeping bags to watch for shooting stars.
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| My bivy on the ridge atop the South Early Winters Spire |
A blazing streak across the night sky, reminds me to make a
wish. I consider love, review my dreams, and think about what I want to be
better.
I wish I were braver. I wish I were more durable. I wish I
were more intentional. I wish for more superlative moments.
I wish for love.
I’m not superstitious, and the exercise reminds me that my
wishes can come true, but only if I put in the work to make them come true. It
can’t all be easy. When I accept that I will always suffer, and lean into the
jagged edge, my wishes might come true; they might not.
Tonight happened because Zachary dreamed of doing something
special to see the Perseid Meteor Shower. I refused him at first, thinking I
couldn’t pull it off on a “school night”, but back at home, I kept thinking
about not limiting myself and making the most of each day.
While I drank coffee the next morning, I pulled out all my
climbing and overnight gear, and threw it in the car. Once I made the decision
to go for it, there was no stopping me.
Being a climbing warrior, gives me the inspiration to patch
leaky energy in other parts of life. I set the intention again and again to
confront addictive behavior, comfort, sloth, self-pity, jealousy, greed, and fear.
Forgive each failure, and love courageously. I’d like to say, “I’ll figure it
all out one day,” but what fun would that be.
