About a year ago I read the book
Into Thin Air, by Jon Krauker for a leadership class with The Forest Service.
After reading the book, I pretty much ruled out mountaineering.
In my mind, I thought, who in their right mind would want to hike in the freezing cold snow, with little oxygen, just to say they made it to the top of a mountain?
Who would want to risk freezing to death, losing fingers and toes, and getting altitude sickness so bad that they go crazy and can’t even remember the summit?
About a week ago, Leah and I had the opportunity to take on the challenge of climbing Pastouri, a 16,000 plus foot high mountain in
Peru.
It actually came as a surprise, as we signed up for a day of ice climbing, but found out later that day that our guide had other plans for us.
After spending the night at our guides house, (they were nice enough to let a few poor World Race bums sleep in an extra room for free), we loaded in an old land Rover and headed to the mountains.
We drove through winding mountain roads until we finally made it to the trail at the base of our mountain.
Everyone unloaded gear, pulled on extra layers, zipped up coats, and ate one last candy bar for a small amount of added energy.
Leah and I slowly figured out how to put on our climbing boots, which were too large for both of us, stiff like ski boots, with the comfort of snowboard boots.
One last check of gear from our guides, and we were off, slowly clanking along the stone trail, one awkward step at a time, our breaths becoming fewer and fewer the higher we climbed.
I have never really had too many problems with altitude, but at about 12,000 feet, I really started to feel the effects.
Suddenly, I was unable to go as fast as my body wanted to, I became tired much quicker than usual, and I began to develop a slight headache and dizziness the higher I climbed.
But as always, determined to finish what I set out to do, I put the symptoms behind me, focusing on what was ahead.
When we made it to the base of the glacier, we stopped to take off a few layers, and put on our crampons.
There was an incredibly amazing ice cave nearby, so we took a few minutes to try out our spelunking skills as well.
The glacier is where the challenge began.
Each step, everyone would sink into snow up to their thighs, crawl their way out, and then the next foot would sink in.
It was a very exhausting climb, but luckily for me, being so small, I could easily walk on top of the snow without falling in.
So I made my way to the base of the rocks to grab a bite of energy, which was greatly needed, before everyone caught up.
The higher we climbed, the more people we began to lose.
Finally it was our guide, Leah, and I left.
Our final accent we had to climb up a bunch of rocks, in our awkward climbing boots, to reach the summit.
It was a slow climb, as we would take a few steps, and have to rest to regain our breath, and then do it all over again.
I have never in my life felt so out of energy.
It was really a crazy feeling, I kept thinking to myself, I have climbed many mountains, why is this so much harder for me?
We gave it everything we had, pushed each other, and finally made it to the summit.
The view was breath taking, and although I had a headache and was a little dizzy, I felt a sense of accomplishment.
Sitting on top of the world at over 16,000 feet, I began to contemplate a few things about life.
God made this magnificent creation specifically for us.
So many times we sit at home dreaming and wishing for things to happen.
What we want and desire are things we only entertain in our thoughts, compared to what actually is reality.
The mountain always looks too big, too hard, and too dangerous.
So we choose to sit at the base of it and look up, always wondering what the top could be like, but too afraid to take that first step.
God promises us that if we are willing to just take that first little baby step, he will be right there by our side until we reach the summit.
We have two choices in life.
To take the easy route, hang out in a lawn chair, sip margaritas, always looking up and wondering what the summit could be like.
Or we can look that trail square in the face, and go, with one foot in front of the other.
Not knowing what is ahead, taking each step, little by little, and trusting that no matter how hard things get, we always have someone by our side to pick us up when we fall.
Knowing that at the end, when we take that final step overlooking the summit, that we have become better people for doing it.
I don’t want to live my life saying what if, I want to be able to say what next?
Now that I have reached the summit, I am no longer afraid.
Life is too short to worry about the little things.
All I can say is bring on the next mountain!
