I Climb a Mountain

Yesterday, as I contemplated a tall stack of work on the desk of my home office, I thought, “I can never finish this.”

Then I remembered a story from my past. It’s one I’ve shared before in People Tools, but because it illustrates an important lesson, I believe it’s worth re-telling.

When I was thirty my good friend John talked me into doing something I had never done before, or since.  It was a three day backpacking trip, and on our journey I learned a significant life lesson that has remained with me for the past fifty years.

On the first day of our adventure we climbed a twisting trail which cut back and forth across a lovely brook strewn with slippery rocks.  My sleeping bag and spare clothing were on my back.  John, more experienced, carried everything else, including a small stove.

At sundown we reached our campsite and pitched our tents beside a deep blue lake in the high Sierras.  There were only a few bugs, and John assured me that no tarantulas lurked nearby, waiting to crawl into my sleeping bag while I slept.

Even though I was exhausted, I did not sleep well that night.  I wasn’t accustomed to the 9,000 foot altitude, and I had forgotten to ask John about black widows.  I woke often, gasping for breath.

The next morning, as we enjoyed breakfast, John pointed to a mountain peak.

“”That’s Army Pass,” he said.

‘Uh huh.”

“That’s where we’re going to climb today.”

“Excuse me, John.  Does ‘we’ include ‘me’?”

“Of course.  You’ll love it.”

It was time for a serious chat.

“John, that mountain is towering over us and its way up in the sky.  I’ve never hiked as much as I did yesterday, I didn’t sleep well, and I’m tired.  Why don’t you climb the mountain yourself, maybe even visit the leprechauns if you like. I’ll relax and enjoy the fresh scent of pines while I watch the little fishies swimming in the lake.”

“Alan, it’s an easy climb.  I’m sure you can make it.”

“To the top?  No, I can’t.”

“We can go at your pace.”

“What does that mean?”

“The trail has a lot of switchbacks.  We can walk slowly, and you can stop to rest whenever you want to.”

This was John’s version of the Godfather – an offer I couldn’t refuse.  But still, I asked for clarification.

“So if we’ve hiked for two hours, or even for only two minutes, we can stop and come back down if I like?

“Any time.”

“No penalty,”

“None at all.”

Damn!  I felt trapped.  Encouraged, but trapped.

“And I’ll carry lunch,” he said.  “So you don’t have to carry a thing.”

“Yeah, except myself!”

We started out.  I set a very slow pace.  The switchbacks weren’t too steep, and I only needed to stop to rest after every other one.  John kept talking and reminding me to admire the scenery as we climbed.

We left at nine am.  Shortly before noon, walking a little ahead of me, John said, “We’re at the top.”

And we were.  I had actually climbed a mountain in fewer than three hours.  Well, not all of the mountain.  We started from the lake, which itself was pretty high.  But I felt a huge sense of achievement. I had accomplished something I never thought possible, something I wouldn’t even have tried without John’s encouragement and offer to let me walk at my own pace.

I reflect back on that experience often, especially when I face a task which seems insurmountable, as I did yesterday.

I’ll bet that in your life you’ve climbed a few mountains of your own. Perhaps you’ve been joined by an encouraging friend.

We climb a mountain every day.  Hopefully, each day we remind ourselves to enjoy the view.

Alan