Lessons from the Alpine

*16 years of backpacking adventures with my mom

Dear Kula Diaries,

A few weeks ago, my mom visited Washington for our annual backpacking trip together. I took my mom on her first backpacking trip in 2008 when she was 56 years old — a multi-day hike through The Enchantments … including an ascent of Aasgard Pass and a descent on the third day through a snowstorm. My mom had never carried a full backpacking pack in her entire life before, and I didn’t have a pair of trekking poles for her to borrow, so I loaned her my ski poles. The route around Colchuck Lake is part scramble, part boulder-hopping… and my mom was understandably uncomfortable during this section, so I carried her non-collapsing poles to free up her hands so that she could balance herself on the rocks. The final section up Aasgard pass included a few portions of clear ice that were so treacherous that I physically had to push her up the rock. When we finally got to the top of Aasgard pass, we were both so relieved and happy, that we started to cry.

Our backpacking prom photo at the top of Aasgard pass.

The weather during our first backpacking trip was… frigid. Luckily, I had no idea how to pack lightly, and our massive packs had included a pair of ski pants. That night, we laid down on the ground and felt the warmth spread over our bodies as we digested our dinner. My mom was wearing a borrowed ski jacket, insulated ski pants, and a fuzzy winter hat with ear flaps.

By the time we woke up in the morning, this entire lake was covered in a thick coat of ice.

When I think about that trip many years ago, the thing that I always remember is that first night… lying on the ground and looking at the stars. I had just gotten married (my first marriage), and I felt confused about what my life was supposed to look like… why I had gotten married in the first place… and what I wanted to do with myself. This trip was less than a month after my wedding, and yet, most of my recreational time was spent without my ex. My (ex) husband didn’t like to hike, and most of my personal time was centered around doing things outdoors. During the time we were married, he preferred to stay inside and watch TV on his days off from work… while I opted to spend my time hiking and backpacking. My sister had asked me about this arrangement before we got married and I had told her, “He’s just supportive of me.” But, if I had been honest with myself — it was a bit more like, “We barely do anything together… and I just got swept away in this marriage-planning thing because I thought it was the next thing I was supposed to do.”

I did what I was supposed to do for most of my life, and I always felt like I was forcing things to happen. Nothing ever ‘clicked’ into place… my timing was always off… I quit easily and quickly… I felt like a square peg in a round hole… but I was so afraid to try a different path. What if things went wrong? What if I failed? What if I was a disappointment? What if I wasn’t good enough? Every single day, I drowned in an ever-rising tide of what-ifs.

Me, back in my obsessive mountaineering days - ha!

Walking away from my marriage and from the perception of ‘security’ that I felt in my supposed-to-do life was one of the most terrifying things that I’ve ever done. I was forced to face my shame for the first time, instead of avoiding it by hiking away my problems. I felt like I had let everybody down. I felt like the facade of my life had crumbled into a pile of nothingness… and I wasn’t sure if I could build it back up again. Slowly, I started to pick up the pieces … and, at first, I stuck with what felt familiar — a job in law enforcement… a stable environment… and backpacking and hiking. Eventually, my then-boyfriend (now husband) Aaron would join me on these trips… some of the first times that I ever experienced the joy of sharing the outdoors with a partner whom I hadn’t forced to accompany me.

As I looked deeply at the feelings that I had been afraid to feel for most of my life, I began to see that they were not nearly as powerful as I had ascribed to them. You mean that I can totally screw up… and there are people out there who genuinely will still like me for who I am? I can completely re-write the story of my life and there are… in fact… a lot of people who are so busy with their own lives that they literally do not care? The more and more that I looked at the places that terrified me, the less and less scary they became — and the less I started to depend on outside validation for my own sense of worthiness and belonging. At some point on my path, I received some pretty harsh judgement for leaving my job and for jumping into the unknown — in the past, this judgement would have stopped me in my tracks and made me question everything that I was doing. But now, equipped with a new sense of internal resilience and strength, I understood that these expressed fears were much more about the other person than they were about me. Over and over again, I’d tell myself: They are not me. They are not in my head. They do not see the world through my lens. You can do this… keep going.

And I did. I just kept going. And, to this day, I’m still going. And still riding the ups and downs of whatever is coming my way on a daily basis.

I don’t backpack nearly as much anymore, but I don’t say that as a complaint. I’ve never been more content with simply accepting what is. But, as I mentioned before, I headed out into the wilderness with my mom a few weeks ago for our annual backpacking trip. Being outside has become less ‘objective-based’ for me… and more about simply being there and about spending time with people that I care about. Many years ago, you probably couldn’t have hiked with me unless you were willing to keep up with some sadistically unrealistic pace. Now, I’m happy to stroll and enjoy wherever I am.

On our most recent backpacking trip, we headed to the Alpine Lakes Wilderness for a hike to a remote late… and then a subsequent day hike to an even more remote late, which was only accessible after ascending a boulder field and finding small remnants of trail through tiny sections of alpine meadow. After scrambling down a steep gully to our campsite, we set up camp in a spot on a knoll just above the lake. That night, the clouds painted one of the more dramatic sunsets that I’ve ever seen, and we nibbled on lemon cookies before heading to bed.

The next day, we departed our campsite at a leisurely pace and began the ascent of a boulder field just beyond our knoll. In addition to our destination lake, there were two peaks situated in the remote basin. About a decade ago, I have absolutely no doubt that our close proximity to these peaks would have been too tempting for me to pass up. I would have turned our relaxing walk up a hill into a masochistic march — quickly ascending in order to check two more peaks off my list.

This day, however, was different. Instead, we slowly made our way up the challenging path and, upon our arrival at the lake, we laid down in the sun for awhile before having some snacks, a quick dance break, and then heading down.

For the record, I love climbing — and I don’t think there is anything wrong with wanting to summit peaks. I have spent so many days in the wilderness ascending mountains, and so many of those days brought a profound sense of belongingness and joy into my life. But, I can now see with clarity that I was not necessarily present during those moments — in fact, I was usually using those climbs in order to avoid the present moment, because it was a difficult place for me to be. When you have not learned how to love yourself yet — being present with who you really are seems more impossible than any climb. In a way, even my hardest and most treacherous climbs were an easier route than walking the path back to myself.

My mom, me and Aaron at our final alpine lake. Photo taken by a stick.

Years and years of intense mountain climbing were an important part of my journey, because I do believe that it ultimately taught me the thing I needed to learn: what you are looking for is not out here… it’s already within you. That knowledge, while I often didn’t want to accept it or believe it, has transformed my outdoor experiences from anxiety-punctuated escapes from reality… into joyous and meditative moments of being truly present with the infinite beauty of the world around me. I will probably continue to climb mountains… and to go backpacking in beautiful places… but that need to numb myself is no longer present. Instead, I can walk at a gentle pace and actually take the time to enjoy where I am — instead of worrying about something I can’t control… or being somewhere else.

It’s often a challenge for me not to have a lot on my mind — and when we went on this backpacking trip, I was in the midst of what I would consider normal life chaos: semi-chaotic business planning, attempting to peacefully deal with a very angry neighbor in my neighborhood, finishing the preparation for our GORP Camp Weekend with Miranda Goes Outside, and just trying to stay present in the midst of it all. I’m no less human than everybody else, and I do often get lost in my thinking mind, but recently — I’m learning to celebrate the noticing a lot more.

Aaron and my mom hiking past an unnamed alpine tarn.

Like most humans, a pesky thought will often enter my mind… and… it’s off to the races. But there is magic in the noticing. I’ve been working on shifting my view of these unconscious moments. Instead of casting judgment upon myself for becoming lost in my mind… I’m trying to celebrate when I notice that I’m doing that thing I do. The fake conversations… the imaginary scenarios… the worrying… the obsessive thinking…. all of it happens… but, if I notice it… then, I’ve stepped outside of the happening. Suddenly, the thoughts are no longer me. When this happens at work, I’ve started doing something new: as I begin to realize that I’m being sucked into the rabbit hole of doom, I take a few deep breaths and bring myself back to what is happening in the present moment. Then, I select another human (either a customer or a friend), and I spend about 10 minutes writing them a letter of appreciation and gratitude — sometimes I even send them an unexpected and fun gift. Suddenly, my previously deemed ‘negative feedback loop’ is being transmuted into something else. Where there was once fear or doubt or worry… there is now kindness and a genuine appreciation for another human being. The fear dissipates, and reveals what was there the whole time: love.

My mom lives in Maryland, which is just about as far away as you can get from Washington, but she has made this journey for our annual backpacking trip almost every year for 16 years. We’ve backpacked all over Washington… and even in California. When I think back to some of those earlier trips, I often wonder how present I was during the time that we spent outside. Was the trip more about the destination… and less about the experience? Was I using our yearly backpacking trips to check off my own mountaineering objectives? At times, I probably was — but I can’t be too hard on myself, because I know that I was trying my best. I know that I was a young girl who was struggling to process a life that she had ‘ended up in’ — without knowing how to get out of it. I am thankful for the mountains and for my backpacking trips — without which, I remain unconvinced that I wouldn’t have turned to more harmful coping mechanisms.

Me an my mom on our way out — just after sunrise.

My more recent backpacking trips — particularly the ones with my mom and Aaron — feel much more special than any of the trips that I did when I was simply attempting to ‘climb as many things’ as possible as often as possible. A trip can be about going to a place, but that place takes on a new type of beauty when you begin to see it through your heart and not your eyes. Many years ago I wrote an essay about a climbing trip where I included the sentence, “the mountains are nothing, compared to the friendship experienced by the climbers who seek them.” I didn’t know what that statement meant when I wrote it, but I thought it sounded good. Now, I understand the truth of what I wrote but did not really know: the beauty in this world exists to reflect back our own infinite goodness. If we do not love ourselves, we cannot see the beauty that lives in every moment, no matter how stunning the landscape. The most beautiful landscape of all is the one that we can create in our own hearts… that helps us reveal the true gold that lives within each of us… and most importantly, helps us see it in others.

To my mom and Aaron — I see the gold in both of you. Thank you both for being a part of such a wonderful adventures. Let’s do it again next year … I’ll bring the cookies.

And to all of my Kula Diaries subscribers — thank you for being here. I hope we cross trails in real life sometime very soon too. For the record, those are lemon cookies (some of my favorite to make) and you can find my favorite recipe right here. And yes, we each carried two giant cookies on the trip — one for each night.

Wishing you all ease, peace, abundance and joy.

P.S. As a reminder, you can submit a ‘signature’ to The Kula Diaries Trail Register through this link … submissions are due by November 16th, and if your selection is chosen, you’ll receive a (really nice) gift and thank you from me!