The Adventure of a Lifetime

And there we were, 800 feet above the ground sweaty and smelly, spinning around in wonder trying to absorb every aspect of beauty that was surrounding us. To the right, the daunting Nose of El Capitan stared us down practically mocking our sense of accomplishment. To the left, the Face of Half Dome faintly smiled at us with its grandeur stature. Above us, more cracks and nooks and ledges existed patiently waiting to be used. Below us, 800 feet of granite congratulated us on our first significant multi-pitch ascent in Yosemite, CA.

Ever since I can remember, my dad has been taking me on adventures. Once a year we pick a weekend to take a trip, just the two of us. We’ve been backpacking, surfing, camping, mountain climbing, hiking, and the past two years we have been rock climbing. Now when I say rock climbing I mean short, easy climbs with the instruction of a guide; nothing intense or serious, just pure fun and experimentation. However, this year we cranked it up a notch. Being the only two people signed up for the class, the guide offered to take us up a multi-pitch climb…(this means you climb up as high as the rope is long, pull the rope up, anchor into a tree or crack in the rock, and start over climbing even higher). Of course we, being the adventure junkies that we are, took the guide up on his offer and headed into the adventure of a lifetime.

At the base of the rock, we slipped on our harnesses, tied into the rope, tightened our helmets, and prayed that it wouldn’t rain (there had been a thunderstorm the previous day and lots of rainclouds in the sky). Once situated, our guide started stepping his way up a crack in the rock. He made it look effortless, strategically putting his feet on specific nooks and sticking his hands in deep cracks with no fuss. Next up was my dad, a six foot one lanky man with the grace of an elephant. To be honest I had my doubts, but up he climbed right up the first pitch with no hassle. I was a very proud daughterJ

As the climbs got harder and we got more tired, our nimble selves became heavy and lethargic. With each pitch, our guide seemed to be getting stronger and faster and my dad and I seemed to be getting weaker and clumsier. At pitch number four, we took a break to rehydrate and eat. While dad was tripping over ropes on our three-foot ledge off the side of a cliff, I was getting frustrated with his lack of awareness and naturally just wanted to be at the top. But as I pondered that thought more, I realized that I was not even close to being ready to end our journey. Through our arguments, encouragements, problem solving, and teamwork we had accomplished so much together. Sure, the climb was challenging and not every moment was enjoyable, but we had successfully climbed almost 800 feet up the side of a granite wall. I didn’t want this adventure to be over, I wasn’t ready to end the hard work; I was living in and loving the journey.

That made me think: climbing that wall was a metaphor for life, or at least for different phases of it. So often I am focused on the goal, the product, the top of the climb if you will. I dwell on what is to come at the end and ignore all that I have accomplished already. I rarely ever live in the journey like I did hanging off the side of that wall, but loving that climb, loving the hard work, loving the journey was the most incredible place to be in. I felt utterly content, completely satisfied and I hadn’t even accomplished my goal.

As a college student, I am continuously being asked what my major is, where I’m working, what profession I want to pursue, etc., but I’m not sure that the answer to those questions are essential to my life right now. Goals are immensely important for motivation and structure, but they aren’t for dwelling over. As I start a new semester with a new major and different intentions regarding school, I want to live hour by hour, even minute by minute living in the journey and loving that hard work necessary for success. I want to get to the fourth pitch beat up, worn down, and hungry, and wish that I had farther to go.