You Can Call Me Sargent Suffrage
If you know wilderness like you know love,
you would be unwilling to let it go…
This is the story of our past and it will be the story of our future.
Terry Tempest Williams
It was 5:30 am Friday morning and the sun was doing its job as my alarm clock with its light slowing illuminating the walls of our tent. “Top of the mornin to ya Alexandra,” said the sun. “Count your blessings it's going to be another glorious day in the great outdoors!”
Little did I know it really WAS going to be a magical day.
Whether I like it or not- we usually don't sleep well when backpacking. Our tent is small, as is my sleeping pad so it normally leads to a night of fairly restless sleep, as I toss and rotate from side to side and in the process wake up every couple of hours or so.
But this was the morning we were summiting Glen Pass- so there was some extra excitement in the air. We were hitting the trail earlier for the summit and the distant light of the sun was our signal it was time to go. I laughed as I thought of my dad, who would always hit the trail early, no matter what the day had in store for you. I can see more of him in me whenever Im in wilderness.
As we hiked around upper Rae Lake the sunlight was creeping down some of the rocky peaks surrounding us. The sky was a deep blue and crystal clear; which was a sight to behold considering it had been cloudy and rained on us everyday of our trip thus far. As with any uphill portion of our journey, I initially was hiking with Tim and Nate; but as the uphill increases, I usually end up hiking by myself, with them following somewhere unseen below me.
Now I know I am not an olympic athlete, or a marathon runner, or an endurance racer. Nor do I want to be honestly. But I do have stamina- and I have a boat load of excitement when it comes to being on the trail. In truth I actually find going uphill with a pack on easier and more rewarding than going downhill, which is always tough on my knees. So onward and upward I went- and boy was it beautiful.
Rae lakes sits at 10,500 ft elevation and we were climbing up an additional 1,500 ft to the pass, so I was taking it easy. “Just one foot in front of the other”. Is what I told our friend Nate on the first day.
Isn't that just the thing in life? One foot in front of the other. It sounds so simple- but maybe that's why I love backpacking. There isn't anything really technical about it- it's not something you really need to be skilled at; like skiing or surfing or rock climbing. It's just one foot in front of the other. Inhale, exhale. Repeat. Oh and try to keep breathing out of your nose and not your mouth. That’s a good one to concentrate on as well.
Do your shoulders hurt? Sure
Are your legs sore? Most likely.
Is your pack heavy? Yes and no. Relatively speaking.
I like to remind this new generation of backpackers what the older generation of backpackers carried. When my dad did his 11 day journey from Bishop to Mt. Whitney his pack weighed in at 82 pounds when he started. I’ll repeat that 82 pounds!!!!
I personally have a love hate relationship with the ultralight backpacking obsession. Because a mild amount of suffering is part of the gig- it's part of the experience. To feel the weight on your back and to carry on. To endure. To be fully present, and carry on in bliss. Because when you look up and look around you at any moment; you forget about the pain, you forget about the climb above you. In those mundane moments of pain is when I feel the most alive.
What a marvel my body can do this!
How amazing is that!
How amazing is it to be in this little slice of paradise. Far from the internet, the news, and responsibilities of modern living?
It's a privilege and a blessing.
I'm sure of this and I don't take a second of it for granted.
I didn't train like crazy. I didn't really train at all. But what I do daily is apply the principles of yoga and ayurveda to my life and voila! I discovered a well spring of energy as I morphed into not the Hare but the wise Tortiouse- slow and steady as she goes. Sargent Suffrage as Nate named me.
That’s my pace. I like to think it's the pace of nature as well- because well, I am not a cheetah. Never have been. Never will be.
Every 10 minutes or so I would stop and look behind me at what I just ascended. Beautiful crystal blue lakes in the distance. White granite mountain peaks all around me. Little mountain streams across the trail.
This is what that section of the JMT taught me.
One foot in front of the other.
Inhale, exhale.
Don't compare your pace to the pace of others.
Honor your pace.
Cheer yourself on always.
Cheer your friends on as well.
Understand that in life, suffering is inevitable. The Buddhists understood this.
Understand that the uphill doesn't last forever.
If it helps, think of the people on a stairmaster in the gym that they paid for.
Stop and marvel at the beauty that surrounds you as often as needed.
Be humble.
Give thanks to mama nature for all that she provides.
Leave no trace.
Celebrate at the top.
As Glennon Doyle says “we can do hard things.”
And I learned we can do hard things and be proposed to by your best friend on the top of a mountain.
To Tim: I will always summit this thing called life with you.
One foot in front of the other babe.
