Random thoughts about the mountain and you

Same trail, personal approach

Every trail is the same until someone passes through it.  Then the combination of body measures such as length of stride and reach, built and flexibility, height and weight dictates the geometry of climbing, sliding, crawling and striding through  it.

The mind also has different ways of processing the information passed on to it by the eyes; variables such as root stumps, rock piles and mud which can serve as foothold, branches, grass stems or protruding overhead rocks that can be grabbed to provide balance or an opposite force to move forward are continuously uploaded to the brain and processed just as quickly as the climber makes his/her way through the route.  

A miscalculation often results in a sudden slip or an unexpected fall, which usually forces the downed climber to yell out his/her favorite body part or blurt out a short and sweet ode to motherhood.

What's to see?

The lure of taking Instagrammable pics is one  of the most enticing come-ons for many climbers, especially to those whose daily lives are well-documented on social media.  The mountain is generous in this regard; it will give you the most gorgeous sights even on the worst days. 

The trick is not to equate a certain weather condition, like rain that was not even in the forecast, as a damper on your much anticipated eyegasm.  There is always something to see even when the only clearing you see is no more than 10 feet ahead of you.

A cloud cover simply means that the mountain wants to show you something up close.  

Train your eyes and you might be surprised by seeing for the first time some strange animals or insects, or rare plants that can’t survive on the lowlands.  

Look up moss-covered giant trees and you might just spot wild orchids with brilliant hues.  And that tree!?  How often do you get to see a tree covered in velvety moss, let alone a whole forest of it?

And didn’t you notice?  Because of the non-stop rain, the mountain gives you the privilege to be literally floating in a dream-like stage, made more dramatic by an ethereal smoky effect and the surreal symphony of frogs, insects and birds making a fitting soundtrack to your hike.

The mountain is generous.  Every time.

Climb as strangers, go down as friends

The mountain will bring complete strangers together then release them to where they came from, at the very least, as strangers who have shared something intense together, which is a lot more than what many relationships go through in a lifetime.

It is difficult to find a random situation which can compare to the power of the trail to bond people.  Perhaps it’s because getting away from the realities of the real world liberates one from the pretensions, pressures, airs and uncertainties that come with being a professional, a student, a boss, a someone expected to do something, or to be somebody.  

Up in the mountain, you are just another wanderer struggling to get to the end, preferably safe and with enough enthusiasm to say it was all worth it.  To share the time with a friend, a loved one, a stranger on top of a mountain is intense.

You don’t even have to talk about it.  You just know.  It’s etched in you.

Former kids at play

Mountaineering is the adult person’s way of reclaiming childhood – the one that was lost, or never had.  You can roll in the mud, cake your face with dust and smell like dried leaves and you don’t give a care.

You see a stream and your instinct tells you to wade.  Rain falls and instead of shelter, you look for a refreshing bath.  You crawl on all fours, sit on dirt, lie on grass and eat food with bare utensils and dirty hands without looking over your shoulder, expecting an irate adult to tell you that you’re doing it all wrong.  

In fact, everything feels right.  So right you even call all these good times.

You run, whistle, hum, swing your arms, and hop about for no other reason than it feels right at the moment.

Then you get into some random activities like climbing a tree to sprawl your limbs like a tired monkey, or you encounter a low-lying branch and you think that the most logical thing to do is to get into an impromptu pull-ups competition – complete with trash-talk and even cheers from onlookers who, without thinking, believe that it is what they are supposed to be doing.  

You forget who you are.  And you remember, no, you relive your childhood, no cares, no worries, just you and the moment.  You are transported to a place where what makes you happy doesn’t cost a thing, nor does it take away from someone else’s happiness, and to a time when a smile is genuine and the laughter pure.

Your story

The mountain is a story-making machine about creating or bridging distance, with you as its main character and chief collaborator.  Some climb to get away or get closer to someone, to something; others to locate that room in the head that only they know exist, where clarity is patiently at wait.  

Climbing is about getting lost so that those lingering questions that are unanswered become distant, harmless whispers, even for just a while, just long enough for you to clear your head and find that voice that will cut through the noise, assuring you, "You got this!'

Climbing is an escape, a happy place, a reset button.  It’s a story that you piece together with every step that you take; a story that grows a layer of nostalgia with every retelling, a story that you’d love to create all over again. 

Someday. Soon.