The beeping alarm penetrated my deep sleep. I wanted to ignore the perforating noises, but my partner stirred next to me. Sigh. I could sense he was eager to start the day. There was no point resisting that darkened chilly morning. Groggily I unzipped my sleeping bag to put on more layers.
Once out of the tent we hiked along the ridge to meet our fellow campers and fix breakfast. I was surprised to find them still in bed. Then I thought, would I still be sleeping if I had a tent to myself? Shrug. Who knows? I finished preparing my apple cinnamon oatmeal and took a bite. With an increased cognizance I could hear stirring in the nearby tents. As I took another bite of breakfast my mind's focus turned to the sun, and gratitude permeated through my cells. Not everyday do I witness the first light rising and glistening across a frozen snow field. This glacier, vulnerable of climatic variances, absorbs temperatures and pressures. Barely a glacier, maybe merely a snow field, yet a pristine water source. My mind turned off, and I sat in the presence of mountains beyond mountains in every direction. Comforted by the brief silence of that morning I pictured the vast rocky landscape as a grounded nurturer. I took a few more slow and steady breaths as I felt a greater connection hard to describe with words.
Stillness does not last forever. Like a river that ebbs and flows, my mind was like an eddy that morning. When the mind is not yet busy or active, but truly present, is a time to treasure. Those simple moments of silence offer solitude, a sanctuary, and a place to rest the mind from turbulence. But all healthy rivers must keep flowing. I flowed with my breath through several sun salutes before we went on our way in the early morning light. The albedo from the snow field was steadily increasing with each step. Eagerly we trekked along the frozen snow attached to each other by a rope with about 10 meters between each of us, our ice axes in hand, and crampons secured to our boots.
Often when I am on expeditions in remote locations I feel a blast from the past, like I have travelled back in time as an explorer. Perhaps I feel this way because we are far enough from civilization that human developments are obscured. These types of experiences must have a profound affect on our psyche. To be secluded and feel a sense of the wild. Knowing the space between our physical reality and modern amenities is at least a day's walk away can also be insightful. While not as intense as past explorations, like Shackleton's expedition to the Antarctic, these types of journeys take me out of my comfort zone and remind me of the important things in life. All that matters is the present moment when survival instincts kick in and distractions fade away.
Step by step we reached our summit. As I stared out towards the horizon on an uninhabited landscape I started feeling small. I have felt this way before in mystical forests, on vast prairies, upon high protruding rock faces, and on prominent peaks. Humbled by the magnificent mountainous landscape I was reminded, yet again, that I was part of something much larger than myself. Sitting to myself I breathed in the views. Here I am.
I could feel the cooling winds on my skin while my breath warmed me from within. All five of us contemplated our surroundings in solitude until Mark, a notorious peak bagger, started naming all the prominences in sight. This was not his first rodeo in the Northern Cascades. We gathered in closer to hear the names of the peaks as we kept our gaze outward. Enough time passed that we knew our moment atop Ruth had deceased. We geared up to go back to camp, and our trek downward began.
Retrospectively we were everything and nothing. We were the sum totals of our energy and will power required to summit, and yet just a speck among a vast array of rocky peaks that protruded towards faint wisps of clouds. For the most part we were a group of folks who worked and played outside. The mountains kept calling us back for whatever reasons; whether perceptional, physical, or visceral reasons we were dedicated to the journey, to the experience.
It was not long before we approached the crevasse. Peering inside my eyes followed the deep vertical walls, with horizontal striation, downward until the walls narrowed into darkness. Sounds of melted snow echoed up from the dark abyss. Water produced by this glacier was likely infiltrating the ground, and seeping out into the valley we had hiked up a day prior, which reminded me of another one of life's cycles. We continued onward a ways to practice self rescue techniques. Then we readily glissaded until reaching the scree field, and were soon back at high camp.
We swiftly packed up our camp and trekked onward until we stopped for a trail-side lunch, where I sat on a log and pondered our short-lived expedition. While taking in the warm yet fresh mountain air I could feel my senses expand. Feeling dirt smudged all over my exposed skin, I knew where I belonged. The gaze from my eyes lucently tuned inward and animated a playful energy in my soul. I walked over to a relatively flat open meadow of low growing grasses and forbs, and spread my palms to place them flat on the ground. Then I slowly kicked my feet towards the air into a handstand. A few breaths later my feet were back on the ground. I continued to play around in the meadow until our group was ready to start hiking again. Back on the trail, during the last stretch of our hike, I dunked my head in several cool springs that poured out from the mountain side. Soon enough we were back where we started.
Our excursion to summit was shorter than expected and ended in what felt like a blink of an eye. Now all I have to show and tell are some pictures, and a recollection of experiences that can be put into words. But the experience of any journey is much more than words and pictures. There is no feeling comparable to standing on top a mountain, peering from a vantage point across a horizon of rocky ridges and peaks, and knowing that your brut force got you there. To haul a backpack full of food and gear is rather empowering, slightly even addicting. If I had to summarize my experience in a few words I would describe my trip as purifying and revitalizing.
For me the mountains have always been a purifying experience, even against struggling times. Cleansing the ego and exhilarating the soul. Reminding me of how small yet powerful I am. Without vast connected landscapes I think I would be lost. My identity has grown to be a part of the remote landscapes stretching across the west, and to deeply value wild places for their healing elements and restorative nature, as well as for the endless adventure and exploration. The mountains, rivers, and oceans are a gift for us to enjoy that make me believe there is a force much greater than myself.
If you are cultivating the leaves or roots without the flowers, make sure you
know how to properly identify the plant by vegetative characteristics because
the young leaves can easily be mistaken as young Larkspur (Delphinium) or monkshood (Aconitum),
which are both dangerous (3). Using the floral whorls are a sure way to properly identify this plant if you are uncomfortable
using only vegetative characteristics.
