You kept me up most of the night every night this week, shining in my big windows. Reflecting light off of the snowy blanket that has covered the land. Twinkling through the blinds, my eye caught yours and reminded me of an adventure we had together.
A long time ago I spent a summer living on top of a small hill next to the biggest mountain in the lower 48. My temporary home was a tiny quonset hut for one, perched atop this small hill and hidden in a grove of aspens. I worked for a company that led youth backpacking expeditions into the wilderness and my job was in the logistics department. On the employment application they had asked about previous driving experience. I said I was an old hand at maneuvering manual vehicles across all sorts of different terrain.
I lied.
Unwillingly, I was forced to make friends with a giant white F-450 stick shift right out of the gates. Once the boss realized my lack of experience driving manuals, I was summoned for a quick education in shifting gears and working clutches. A little instruction and a pat on the back and I was ready. Or so they said. Their confidence was much higher than my own in my ability to successfully navigate one of those things. But on I went.
My job was to load this beast up with fresh food, backpacking supplies and climbing gear to deliver out into the field for the different hiking groups on resupply day. Packed to the gills and covered blue tarps, the truck and I ventured out into the wild to track down the designated group. This truck was enormous. Much bigger than my mom's suburban I had grown up driving. And I couldn't even see out of the review mirror due to the giant load it was carrying. How I actually drove it through the mountains is still beyond me. I haven't driven a stick shift since.
My coworkers ranged in age and background, but we made for a fun and adventurous team. That July there happened to be a blue moon. While I had heard of the expression "once in a blue moon" I didn't really know what made a moon blue. If you also don't know, it is the rare occasion of two full moons occurring in the same month.
To my teammates, this meant the perfect opportunity to hike Mt. Massive in the dark.
Or shall I say in the moonlight.
We took off after dinner in light hiking gear and high spirits. Carrying a few snacks and a bottle or two of water, I had no idea what I was in for. Previously having hiked trails in southern Colorado and a few in New Zealand, I fancied myself a pretty competent hiker. However, I was completely naive to just what it meant to hike a 14er.
As we trekked along, energy levels began to bottom out and the once enthusiastic crowd grew quiet. Our group of about 10 slowly dwindled down to 8, then 5 or 6, and eventually to two.
Just me and my friend Brett.
Two scrawny mid-westerners with absolutely no clue what we were doing. I can remember the beautiful snowy bowl and the moon shadows cast around it as the two of us emerged from the forest and gazed up at the final ascent.
Mt. Massive, you are aptly named. We stashed our backpacks next to a tree, guzzled some water, tightened up our hoodies and took off for the top. It was glowing in the moonlight and I couldn't wait to see the view.
Have you heard of an ice field before? I sure hadn't. Until then. Snow packed peaks look lovely from a distance, but it isn't actually snow. It's solid ice up there. As we climbed closer and closer, over boulders and loose scree, we got to the final section. It was pure ice. Slick and solid but pierced with rocks and perfectly angled down a sheer slippery cliff.
Shaking and exhausted, we decided we were way too close to quit now. Slowly and carefully, my frozen fingertips clamped onto the intermittent rocks as I slid one leg over the other and tried not to look down. Almost to the peak, we both cried. A little crazy and much too tired, we helped one another reach the very top. Together we sat there, our legs straddling the ridge to help us remain upright. It was then that I noticed it. Beyond the thumping of my pounding heart there was an absolutely pure, silver, moonlit silence. So thick you could taste it. Punctuated only by the sound of a distant river making its way through the mountains. We were literally sitting on top of the world.
We remained there for a good long while, soaking together in the silence and basking in the moonlight. Then we began to laugh and yip and howl. Our sounds echoed off of everything and we laughed even more. Our eyes shining in the bright glow of the blue moon.
Eventually it was time to make our descent. Infused with the beautiful view of our world from on top of the biggest mountain around, slipping just didn't feel so scary as I climbed down. The wilderness had given me its gift: peace.
We stumbled through the snowy bowl and back to our belongings. Strapped on our packs and disappeared into the forest for the 8 or 9 miles back to basecamp. For some reason we ended up splitting up and I finished the last few miles of the adventure alone.
Just me, the moon and the mountain.
My legs were heavy but my heart felt light as I slipped back into my tiny quonset hut. Zipping up the door and crawling into my sleeping bag just as the sunrise began to shine through the trees.
#wildpeacewellness #magicinthemountains #peaceinnature #adventures #methemoonandthemountain #moonshadows
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