Test Hike

View of Hawthorne Peak from the top of West Peak.

Written on the morning of May 23: 

I laid in my sleeping bag for some time listening to a ptarmigan clicking. When I finally decided to open the tent, the fog was starting to fill in the valleys. Scott text and said he was on top of Middle Peak, the one next to the peak we summited last night. You can't see either from where we're camped.

We decided to camp out as practice for Sweden - to make sure we have everything, to remind ourselves of what else we'll need. And to put a pack on my back - something that hasn't been done in close to a year. I struggled. Granted, where we're hiking in Sweden won't be mountainous, but it'll all equal out. My pack wasn't nearly as heavy as it will be for Sweden with more clothing, gear, and food.

As I huffed and puffed and sweated up the mountain yesterday, my thoughts wandered to a usual place - Why am I doing this? Why am I going on a five-day trekking trip to Sweden when I'd rather be laying out on the beach or drinking wine at cafes? But the pondering wasn't as aggressive as it's been in the past. I came to the realization that I must to some extent actually like challenging myself physically, that if I didn't have Scott to push me, I'd never carry a pack up a mountain, that he puts me in places that I'd never go to otherwise - beautiful pristine places with no else around. 

And that's exactly what happened yesterday. We left our packs where we'd camp and continued up to West Peak. It seemed doable by sight, but like most peaks, they're never where you think they are. There's always more once you get to the "top."  At one point I figured I'd stop. The snowy hill in front of me was too steep. Often when I imagine climbing some thing, I think more about the going down and I could tell the going down was going to a slippery journey I didn't want to embark on. But then I thought about the views from the top. That amazing point when you get to see the other side. So I kept going and eventually got to sheer beauty and, when looking at the steep slopes of Hawthorne Peak, sheer fright. 

Coming down, I enjoyed the surrounding views a little more. And it was hard to decide what was more stunning - the white peaks or the green valleys dotted with snow patches or the channel below us getting touched with rays of sun peaking from the clouds. 

When we got to our camp site, I laid on my belly hoping the sun would dry my bottom, wet from sliding on my butt down the steep snowy parts. Scott blew up an air mattress for us to sit on and we drank our Bota Mini Cabernet Sauvignon. It was in that moment that I felt completely content to be where I was, with Scott and Lota, in the sunshine, looking at some big mountains.