Peaking during Quarantine

2020 will go down as one of the most trying years of my life - of our lives, collectively.

The eyes of White America (well, maybe half of it) were opened to just how unequal and unjust America is for Black people. American Democracy, for the first time in modern history, felt on the brink of collapse.

Seventy-five million Americans pledged their allegiance to a malignant narcissist disguised as president who stood for hate, division, white supremacy and, perhaps, most dangerous of all, an alternate reality impervious to truth or facts. The planet was (and still is) on the brink of climate catastrophe. And a deadly pandemic brought the U.S., and the rest of the world, to its knees.

To make matters worse, we could not see friends and family, to hug or vent it out, grieve or cry together, or even celebrate the still beautiful things in life including birthdays, graduations, weddings, and the like. My spirit felt tattered.

Like most, I experienced a physical stagnation like never before, as our ability to move out in the world became limited to the perimeter of our homes. Mandates to stay home were for good reason. Covid was spreading like wildfire - infections were rising astronomically and so were the deaths.

Yet, I still found myself asking, “What can I do? Where can I turn to process some of these complicated emotions and be uplifted?” And one day the answer came. I thought of John Muir whispering to himself from on top of a mountain, "And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul." And right then I just knew: it was time to climb the peaks of Southern California - time to take on the annual Six Pack of Peaks Challenge. This challenge had been calling my name since 2017. Prior to 2020, I had told myself I was simply “too busy” to spend 6 to 8 hours on a Saturday climbing a mountain. But when quarantine started, the usual excuses of ‘not enough time’ were gone.

The peaks it was! For one, mountains were among the only places that Covid hadn't closed down. A place where I could still practice 6 feet of physical distance from others AND my freedom to move about and breathe fresh air - mask provided, of course.

I started the challenge modestly, climbing Strawberry Peak. At "only" an ascent of 1,720 feet, this was a good peak to start with. At about that same level of difficulty was Sawmill Mountain (8,848 ft), which included such a diverse landscape: rolling hills, plateaus, and redwoods. With Mount Baden-Powell (9,399 ft), the ascents started getting a little gnarlier - a 2,800 ft ascent to be exact. The most challenging of the peaks included Mount Baldy (10,064 ft) and an ascent of 5,650 ft. Cucamonga Peak wins for the funnest peak name to say out loud. At an ascent of 4,200 feet, it provided just the right amount of challenge for the day. It was also one of the prettiest as the trail was sprinkled with fresh snow. Finally, at around the same ascent as Cucamonga, I climbed Ontario Peak (8,696 ft). The ground was icy so snow spikes were a must.

Nature welcomed me, asked me to lay down my worries and just BE. I didn’t have to prove anything. The mountain was not timing how fast I got to the top of the peak. I could shed all of my roles. It was not impressed with my status in life, title or education. It welcomed me, just as I was. There was no need to perform, impress, or to please. All that it asked of me was to pay close attention - to the bird calls, the wind, the crunch of leaves or snow underfoot. Most importantly, it asked me to go inward and listen.

Visiting any peak or national park is like visiting the house of a very wise elder. It will see you exactly as you are (no mask) and reflect back what you’re struggling with. And If you listen carefully enough, it will whisper some insight into your ear or heart or whatever you 'listen' with. You'll receive some glimmer: a next step, a little gem of wisdom to help you on the path of life. You’ll emerge a little calmer and wiser, but only if you treat the visit with reverence. Only if you listen and hold that space within.

In 2019, I did the Bright Angel Trail in the Grand Canyon. I was with a rather jovial group, and there was good reason for celebration and cheer. After a bit of chatter, I went on ahead and separated from the group because I wanted to speak to the canyon alone. When I got enough distance, I asked the canyon, ‘What would you have me know?’ And after about thirty minutes or so, the answer came.

The canyon answered, “TRUST. You must trust yourself. Trust the Universe. And trust that all that is happening to you is for your highest good.” TRUST. A word that is tightly wadded up in my childhood wounds, like a knot in my throat. A word I both love for its promise of connection and fear for its capacity to disappoint and wound me. I listened though, with my whole body and nervous system. I took in that message. Anytime I get a little nervous about something that’s happening, I remember the message that came from the canyon: TRUST.

A self described introvert, with a fair amount of extrovert tendencies, I’ve always treasured time in nature as time for a quiet communion between nature and soul. In 2020, the message from all six mountains I climbed was this: embrace the discomfort. Anything worthwhile is going to have that element. One step at a time. Release the thought that it’s supposed to be easy. Our amphibian brains love to avoid discomfort but, it’s something (if we are to survive as a species) we must learn to embrace. We cannot hold on to the comforts of the present and save the planet at the same time. Change (from the personal to the corporate to the global level) is required. Turns out some level of discomfort is GOOD FOR US. And this message of embracing discomfort didn’t just apply to a physical or mental state, it applied to everything experienced in 2020, as a collective.

Of course, listen to your needs - take calculated risks and don't hurt yourself. But nothing will be gained by staying 100% in the comfort zone.

To all my outdoor adventurers, I see you. Stay wild. Stay young at heart. Stay at minimum just a little rebellious. Breathe in all that is possible, all the richness that nature offers you. Breathe out all that no longer serves you and keeps you small. Leave it on the mountain. The mountain will whisk it away and dissolve it into the wind.