"My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone...I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams" - Green Day
I would like to share the following journal entry with you. It is a journal entry I wrote while on a trip, away from technology. I am opting to share it now because even though I wrote it down, it is still giving me anxiety and I have learned that blogging my journal entries actually decreases that anxiety in a weird way...so here goes it.
February 29th, 2016
Today is the day that I should be returning to civilization, after completing a five day guided trip in the Sierras. This has been an emotional journey for me. Returning to the Sierras where Tommy and I played and fell madly in love has been far from easy. Ideally, this trip would have brought me some peace and reassurance for my future climbing endeavors. However, I feel like it has done the opposite.
As soon as I approached the Eastern side of the Sierras, where desert gracefully meets up with a wall of granite, the memories flooded in as my eyes welled up with tears. Memories as fond as our first kiss, when we summited the wrong mountain. And memories of how frustrating and demoralizing some of our trips were due to conditions. Sometimes, no...most times, we would be the only ones out there - breaking trail in heavy snow, trying to keep warm on the coldest of nights. One thing we did learn quickly is that it is always beneficial to pack the snow shoes, even if you don't think you will need them. In the Sierras in winter, you will need them and when you need them and do not have them, certain unpleasant words may escape your mouth. There are so many memories that Tommy and I have shared in the Sierras that I could easily write a book containing just those, so I will save you for now.
Back to this trip. The first day was solely ice climbing...something that both Tommy and I had enjoyed and started really getting into before we moved to Oregon. I was a little apprehensive to meet the group. If you know me, I am not a big fan of groups or of meeting new people and instantly being forced with them for five days in the mountains. But...here I was! I hid my fears, my insecurities, my sadness, my vulnerabilities and walked confidently toward our meeting place. There were five other plus the guide. After trying to eat some breakfast with the group, we started our trek to where we would climb ice. Lee Vining Canyon is well known amongst mountaineers for it has some of the best ice climbing on the West Coast. A short hike into the canyon put us at the feet/base of magnificent walls of ice...ice that I was going to climb.
The climbing was fun and challenging. It broke my heart that Tommy, my love, wasn't here to appreciate it's beauty and challenge himself on the ice. For the time being, I buried that too and forced a smile. Toward the end of the day, I could not avoid the pain, the hurt, the grief any longer. My heart was with Tommy and not in the present. I was done. I sat out the last climb and anxiously awaited our departure. I isolated myself from the group as others were going to grab dinner together, I headed down the road to my hotel room and grabbed dinner alone.
Back in the room, I nervously packed for the next four days - the four days and three nights we would spend climbing Matterhorn Peak. Upon awakening the next day, I felt in better spirits and made the drive to where we soul meet our backcountry guides. Still feeling okay, we carpooled to the trailhead and started the five mile snowy slog up to base camp. Mentally and physically, I still felt okay - even through the pain of my heavy pack and the hardships of elevation, I felt okay. We set up camp and awaited dinner.
Once darkness fell upon me and the wind picked up, whipping through camp with a vengeance, I was instantly transported back to that cold night I spend in the crevasse with my dead husband by my side. I tried to shake it. I tried to focus on the reality. Nothing worked. I silently cried. I crawled in the tent with my tent partner, turned away from him and sobbed as silently and as privately as possible.
This flashback destroyed me.
It was the beginning of a downward spiral. What was I doing here? Maybe I do just need to leave the mountains alone. No, I love the mountains....it is in the mountains where I find zen and inner strength that cannot be found anywhere else. If I can't make it one night in the mountains, how am I going to climb Jefferson? Will it be different with a friendly face with me? Or will I get sucked back into that frigid crevasse? All of these questions and all of this internal dialogue continued on...all while still attempting to bring myself back to the present.
I finally caved in and sought out the guides. I told them what was going on and one of them set up a plan to escort me back to town. No hard feelings. No sense of judgment. I felt like they understood.
"Don't stray from the mountains - you need them and they need you." - Something that stuck out to me during our descent. This gave me the reassurance that I needed. I have always felt like the mountains are a part of me, so why would I stray away from them when I need them most?
Despite not making the summit, I am not chalking this trip as a failure. I learned a lot just by attempting this trip.
1) I am still not a fan of groups - maybe look into a private guided trip next time
2) I am not as strong as I would like to think I am - I was brutally and humbly destroyed because of a vicious memory
3) I will not leave the mountains alone for they are my soul
4) I may need to rethink how I enjoy and spend time in the mountains, for it will never truly be the same - my mountaineering my have to take a seat in the back for awhile until I can heal on a deeper level
5) There is the whole thing of needing a partner for the mountains too - I know, it may seem trivial, but it is beyond important to be out there with someone you trust with your life and someone that you don't have to prove anything to. Someone you can show vulnerability to. Someone truly special. I was beyond lucky to have had that in Tommy plus a fiercely passionate love.
Those are just some of the big things I have learned so far. Oh, I have also become more than okay with ugly crying on the trail. I have heard that the forest, the trees, the earth, the rocks are all strong enough to handle our stressors and problems...so that's what I did this morning. I ugly cried for two miles while snowshoeing. I didn't care if anyone saw me or heard me, I just let it out for the trees to take. Luckily, I saw not a soul on the trail...I am sure that helped with the "letting it all out" approach I took.
I will always return to the mountains. In good and bad they have always had my back. I am sure there will be many more tears, screams, laughs, and even smiles in the time to come - all things that I will share with my friends, the mountains.
P.S. You will be with me on every summit, my love!
