The Return
Back now from the mountains, where I reacquainted myself with my favorite quote from the Hurricane Island Outward Bound School’s Book of Readings.
When the going is tough and the pressure is on, when reserves of strength have been drained and the summit is still not in sight, then the quality to see in a person is not great physical strength or quickness of hand, but a resolute mind firmly set on its purpose, that refuses to let its body slacken or rest.–Sir Edmund Hillary
Made the trailhead just after noon, for first day of 8.5 miles and 3500 elevation gain to camp on a high ridge, the longest first day I can remember. Also the heaviest, as I carried tent, food, stove, etc. for the two of us, approximating what I might carry for an 8- to 10-day solo trip. Paid extra attention to knees, spine alignment and central channel breathing, pleasantly surprised with my resilience.
Reached the summit in time to see an other-worldly orange moon rise over the next ridge, with Mars just off a bit to the right. The two of them together, both so full, made me think this must be what it would be like to be on Jupiter, with two moons rising. Chilly. Also a bit strange, we came up to this high, remote, ridge camp and found a young Belgian guy already camped there, solo. We said hello and asked him what time it was. He said hello and asked us if he could borrow a lighter or some matches. (yikes!)
Rains started after dinner the first night. Stayed really dry in the tent, but my partner’s gear failures forced us to abandon the 34-mile loop we’d planned. Instead, we chilled (literally and figuratively) through the next day, fogged in thick in the usual ridge-top blustery winds bombarding the tent and spitting rain and fog at us. Somewhere in that second day, I remembered that I could let the energy of each breath go all the way in to my toes, to keep them warm. On the third day, we headed down and out the way we came in, still raining, windy and cold.
Halfway out, we had something shy of one mile of steep climbing switchbacks to get to the main pass. As I started up, I remembered one of my Tibetan teachers who once carried his teacher over the mountains to escape the Chinese. I figured he should know something about climbing with a heavy load. As I reflected on his story, I let my mind mix with his, gliding easily up the trail. In this way, I was able to climb without ambition, and without stopping or tiring. My pack — and then by own physical body — became the load, and the teacher. I understood body as teacher, which reminded me of how cancer patients and others sometimes talk of their physically challenging conditions. I experienced directly what Julie Henderson has said: body not separate from mind, just moving so much more slowly.
Coming back one day early and leaving miles of planned route uncovered doesn’t feel particularly triumphant, but perhaps the triumph is just moving so much slower than the Return.