Rising To The Heights

At four in the morning, on December 5th, a violent buzzing jarred me from sleep. On any other day, I would have groaned and wished I could roll over and be enveloped by the cocoon of blankets around me, but today wasn’t the same.

Today I was a bundle of nerves and excitement and I couldn’t wait to get out the door and begin my journey. Today I was climbing the mountain.

Literally

The morning of December fifth was an exciting one for the students of Deacon Brad Watkins’ Principles and Practices of Outdoor Leadership class, and we all got an early start to what would prove to be a very physically demanding day. 

Australian Mountaineer, Greg Child, once said:“Somewhere between the bottom of the climb and the summit is the answer to the mystery why we climb.”

As I bounced out of the car that morning, I felt the rush that I imagine many adventurers feel before they head out. It’s a rush of adrenaline and excitement that cannot be quelled even by the coldest weather or even the prospect of a difficult journey ahead. Though I didn't know the answer that Greg Child spoke of yet, I hoped to find it on my journey to the top of the mountain. Our Outdoor Leadership class had been talking through the preparations and details of the trip for weeks and after reading and watching the stories of many great mountaineers and adventurers, I suddenly felt a greater connection to them. There’s a solidarity between us and those that came before us, and there will be solidarity between us and the ones that will come after.

After a long bus ride of singing, playing card games and preparing ourselves for the climb, the moment the mountain stood before us was a joyous one. By the time we pulled into the entrance to Grandfather Mountain, we all felt prepared and ready to go. Except, we soon felt the bus backing out of the entrance and heading back down the road. The private side of the mountain was closed and we wouldn’t be allowed up, due to high wind speeds, especially on McRae Peak which is 5,813 feet high.

Without missing a beat, Deacon Watkins announced his back up plan. Instead of the roughly two-mile round trip, we had originally planned on, we’d be hiking up the other side of the mountain on the Profile Trail - an almost nine-mile round trip. Our new destination was Attic Window Peak - an elevation of 5949 feet - where we would stop for lunch before hiking back down the mountain. 

When we set out, laughter and singing permeated the environment around us, though there were moments that we were all silenced by a particularly beautiful piece of the awe-inspiring nature around us. We didn’t see anyone but our own hiking group until about a mile in when we passed an older woman hiking the trail by herself. Strangely this was incredibly humbling to me. Would I, once I reach her age, be able to do what she was doing? What I was about to do?  The doubt and feelings of unworthiness tried to sneak in, but with the joy radiating out of my friends enveloping me, I forced myself to let go of it and push on.

As we continued we saw more and more nearly untouched snow lining the path, hoarfrost, and huge icicles that surrounded the area we were hiking. By the time we hit the switchbacks, we had realized that this wouldn’t be an easy trip. I found it was easier not to focus on the work that my body was doing but the view around us and the path before us. 

In his book The Great Divorce, C.S Lewis wrote, “Will you come with me to the mountains? It will hurt at first, until your feet are hardened. Reality is harsh to the feet of shadows. But will you come?’ 

‘Well, that is a plan. I am perfectly ready to consider it. Of course, I should require some assurances…'

’No,’ said the other. ‘I can promise you none of these things. No sphere of usefulness: you are not needed there at all. No scope for your talents: only forgiveness for having perverted them. No atmosphere of inquiry, for I will bring you to the land not of questions but of answers, and you shall see the face of God.”

When looking back at the trip I see that I was one of the un-useful ones, one of the ones that were not ‘needed’. I am not as strong or as skilled or as adventurous as others, and yet, on the mountain, I was not worried about any of these things. Looking back I realized that our climbing of Grandfather Mountain was a lot like the climbing of the Mountains in C.S Lewis’ The Great Divorce. We may not be needed or useful but we will find joy, if only we submit to the first step. We need to learn to begin, to take the first step, complete the doorstep mile, in real life and in the spiritual life. Climbing is hard and sometimes it requires teamwork. There were moments on the mountain when, without someone to help me up, I wouldn’t have been able to reach the next rock on the trail. There were moments when I had to set aside pride and slide down sheets of ice or accept a helping hand rather than try to stand or climb on my own. We must leave our sins and struggles at the foot of the mountain or we will be too heavy to climb it.

It's a bit like how when you're hiking in colder weather you ought to wear layers. As you work harder and get deeper into the climb you can shed those layers and continue on, excepting of course, that you cannot put spiritual layers back on. You can put on a wool sweater if you're cold but you cannot keep your sin, no matter how comfortable.

C.S Lewis also wrote:

“Nothing, not even the best and noblest, can go on as it now is. Nothing, not even what is lowest and most bestial, will not be raised again if it submits to death. It is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. Flesh and blood cannot come to the Mountains. Not because they are too rank, but because they are too weak. What is a Lizard compared with a stallion?"

Whether climbing a mountain or the Mountains, you cannot stay the same. You must put in the work and humbly accept the help of others. As we reached the peak and sat down, wind whipping our faces, I looked out over the mountain we'd hiked and discovered that I wouldn't have traded the difficulty it took to get to the top. The hardships are part of the journey and they make the joy of the finish so much greater and the joy and accomplishment you feel when you do get to the top overshadows any pain you experienced on the way. I looked around at the people who were with me and realized how extremely grateful I am for them and how much more grateful I am for my faith and the hope that someday I will be able to reach the Mountains.

In the words of a great Catholic mountaineer, Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati:

"Verso L'alto!"

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by Sarah Catherine