How to Climb a Mountain

I recently watched the documentary Free Solo which follows Alex Honnold as he scaled the 3,000 foot face of El Capitan in Yosemite on June 3, 2017– without ropes or safety gear of any kind.  He succeeded.

Speaking literally, I have climbed only one mountain in my life. Fifty years ago, my friend John, an outdoorsman, talked me into a three day backpacking trip in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

After one full day of hiking we arrived at our base camp next to a beautiful lake.  I was still panting, recovering from our climb, when John pointed upward.

“There she is.  Army Pass.  If we start early tomorrow morning we should be up there in time for lunch.”

I looked up to where John was pointing.  I almost fainted.

“John, that’s a mountain.  Hiking to the top could take all day.”

“Oh, no.  Three hours at most.”  He could see I was not convinced.  “Tell you what, Alan, we’ll go at your pace.  There are a lot of switchbacks, and we can rest at the end of each one if you like.  You set the pace.”

“Can I rest every three steps if I need to?”  That was a trick question, and I was hoping he would say “no” so that I could wish him well in his climb the next day while I remained next to the lake protecting our gear.

“Alan, you can rest after each step if you want to.  And we can turn back at any time.  Your call.”

It was an offer I couldn’t very well refuse.

That night I slept restlessly because I was not accustomed to the lack of oxygen at close to ten thousand feet of altitude. In the morning we set off.

“One step at a time,” John encouraged me, and he was true to his word.  We both rested whenever I wanted to. A little more than two hours later, to my surprise (and, I will admit, my delight), we arrived at the summit.

“See, John,” I said, “I told you it would be easy.”

Fast forward to yesterday when it was suggested that I take a look at all of the boxes and other personal possessions I had temporarily “stored” in the garage of my house.

Ugh!  I did not want to spend a day sorting through that jumbled muddle.  I would rather ignore it forever.  Then I remembered John.

“Tell you what,” I said, “This coming week I’ll go through the boxes of books.  Just the books.  I’ll put some on the bookshelves in the house and give away the rest.”

“Thanks.  That would be great.”

Mountains come in all shapes and sizes.  They all loom large.  But every mountain, including the mountain of mess in my garage, can be climbed.

Unlike Alex Honnold, we can use safety gear or ask others for help if we need it.  And, like my friend John, we can give ourselves permission to cut the task into manageable chunks.

And that is how I climb a mountain.  Not in a single leap like Superman, or in four hours without ropes like Alex, but by taking just one step at a time.

Alan