Fighting My Demons All the Way up the Mountain

Just about a year ago my second son was in the wedding of a friend and for the bachelor "party" they climbed the third highest peak in Oregon, South Sister. Sitting in the Cascade Range in Central Oregon at a height of 10, 358 feet, the view is breathtaking but the hike is brutal. To quote one writer, "....the extremely difficult trail to the summit of South Sister gains a staggering 4900 feet of elevation in 5.5 miles ..." So, when they decided to put together another trip this year, of course I wanted to go.

Rewind a little bit: several years ago when we were preparing to go overseas with our mission organization we had a weekend of team-building activities, one of which was climbing a 30 foot rock wall. I climbed well for about 20 feet but didn't make it to the top. I tried again, climbed well at the bottom, but could not make it to the top. I have never felt good about that. Item two: just this last December there were several of us who had trained for a half-marathon and the day of the run arrived. I had hurt my knee a couple of weeks earlier and as a result I ran about half of the half before I had to quit because of the pain in my right knee. I still don't feel good about not being able to run the race.

So now it is Saturday and we have started the hike up South Sister. It is not too bad at the start except it is all uphill and it will never get better! I am carrying as much water as I can, a few energy bars and some basic survival stuff. My son had coached me that the best thing I could do was carry as little as possible because every ounce would punish me later in the climb.

We hiked and hiked and hiked and hiked. The summit is just over 6 miles from the trailhead, but that is the longest 6 miles that I have ever undertaken. We climbed through the mini-boulder field to the false summit and I saw for the first time the path to the top. How could I make it? It was so much further up than where we were at the time and I was already spent. Resting for awhile, drinking water, eating fruit and drinking more water helped to revive my spirits and I set out for the top. In the back of my mind were the two significant challenges that I had not succeeded at. I did not want this trip to be a third attempt and a third failure.

The final climb involves a field of loose lava gravel that might be likened to climbing a sand dune -- but a really steep sand dune. Every step forward resulted in some forward progress and some sliding back downhill. Add to that the altitude and the constant need for water (my mouth was like cotton) and progress was incredibly slow. I had to pace myself, one minute hiking, one minute resting. Every time I rested I looked up the slope and willed myself to take a few more steps. I am pretty sure that the whole way I was convinced that I wasn't going to make it another step.

Little by little, after about another hour of slow climbing I was at the top! I had survived and I was up there! There was no failure -- maybe there was even a little bit of redemption for things unfinished. In the back of my mind as I pushed up the hill was the voice of my son who had assured me several times that I would make it and I would feel great and I would be successful. His words of encouragement and his expression of faith in my ability to make it to the top pushed me step after painful step.

Together we enjoyed the view from the top.