Conventional wisdom says that we learn life’s lessons in the school of hard knocks, and I suppose that is true. But I have learned many of life’s most important lessons during my outdoor wanderings.
It is a classroom that pushes back, but the knocks are generally not as hard, and all the while, there is adventure and wonder.
My son is at the age where he is sorting through life’s options, looking for a path that fits. It is one of the blessings of being 20-something; there is time to browse the world’s many choices and make changes without failing your family or missing a house payment.
As a gray-hair, I look back on that period as a carefree time of unlimited options. But my son reminds me that from his point of view, the uncertainty of the unanswered question – What am I going to do with my life? – looms large.
Now and then, Drew will share with me the trepidation he feels over some challenge that arises as he navigates this sorting process.
When he says this, I remind him of a lesson we learned together.
On July 16, 2003, in Yosemite Valley, two soft and pale hikers shouldered heavy packs and set out for the trailhead. We stopped by a trail sign listing mileages to a dozen destinations. At the bottom, the sign read: Mt. Whitney, 211 miles. Without a word, we exchanged glances and started walking.
Three weeks later, transformed into two bronze and sinewy mountain travelers, Drew and I stood atop 14,496-foot Mt. Whitney, every square mile of the lower 48 states below the soles of our boots.
When Drew shares his fears of a challenge that seems too large, and says, “I can’t…,” I remind him that he said the very same thing at the prospect of hiking the John Muir Trail. I remind him of the moment we stood in front of that sign, swallowed hard and exchanged well-here-we-go glances.
I ask Drew, “When you saw that sign, what did you do? You took a step. Then you took another.”
Overcoming any challenge, no matter how daunting, begins with a step. Coupled with the persistence to keep taking them, you will whittle the task down to size and ultimately complete it.
I can think of no setting better than the wilderness to learn this lesson. Look down from a Sierra summit you have toiled to reach. Everything you see is so small, so far below, but that is where you began. All you did was walk (and walk), but look what you have done. Drew may need to be reminded now and then, but I hope he knows he did something special and that he is capable of so much more.
Clouds Rest Challenge Update
The second of our Clouds Rest Challenge preparatory hikes is coming up. Whether or not you plan to come to Clouds Rest, please join me for this hike. Rain or shine, we will leave from Henry W. Coe State Park headquarters at 9 a.m. Feb. 23. Coe headquarters is at the end of East Dunne Avenue in Morgan Hill, 14 miles from U.S. Highway 101. The drive from Morgan Hill takes a good 30 minutes, so allow enough time. We will hike the Middle Ridge Trail, a moderate but lovely 6-mile loop that rolls over Pine Ridge. There is an $8 per car day-use fee, so carpool if you can. Dogs are not permitted on the trails. Water is available at the park. See you there.
