Two and a half weeks has never felt so long. I feel like I’ve already experienced a lifetime of learning, adventure, and exploration. If I died today, I would die happy.
I’ve been thinking about what the best part was. There was the summit of South Massive, which I had completely to myself—no trail, no people, not a cloud in the sky. There were the night skies, exploding with stars in every direction. There was Echo Lake, a piney paradise. There were the new friends—Doug on Mount Sneffels, Patrick, Marty, and Bez (the understated Dutch Rhodesian) on the Wetterhorn, the British mountaineer on Elbert who was happy to mentor me. There was my first summit—Huron—with barely enough room to stand on and bad weather coming in. There was camping in Grizzly Gulch, surrounded by beautiful alpine basins and cool mountain springs. And then there was the mighty Wetterhorn, with all its steep ledges and heart-pounding exposure. There was the morning I was awoken by a stellar jay jumping on my feet and complaining in my face. And of course, there were more marmots and pikas than I care to remember.
But it’s not the experiences that I’ll treasure the most. It’s what I learned from them. And here is the greatest lesson of all, which is more poignant in the words of Rich Mullins:
“And on this road to righteousness,
Sometimes the climb can be so steep.
I may falter in my steps,
But never beyond your reach.”
Mountaineering takes you to the limit. It challenges your body, your mind, and your will. And sometimes it’s only when your abilities fail that God’s abilities become so clear. God is a very, very real power who is accessible to us, even loves us. Maybe it’s not hard for you to see God in everyday things, but it is for me. And that’s why these two weeks have been so important. They have given me an understanding of God that I can take into my life outside the mountains.
I have a t-shirt with the words “Understanding Conquers Fear” scribed over an artistic grizzly bear. When I got it, I was thinking that understanding the natural world conquers fear. But that’s a lie. In fact, the more I understand about the rugged San Juans, aggressive wildlife, unpredictable hailstorms, and nature in general, the more fearful I become. There is only one thing you can understand that will conquer fear, and that is—God is always with you.
Yesterday I was faced with a decision. I was taking a day off to rest my blisters, and I had one more day to climb. There were two mountains nearby that I hadn’t climbed—Uncompahgre, a famous Class 2 San Juan with an impressive amount of bulk, and Wetterhorn Peak, and intimidating Class 3/3+ spire named for its close resemblance to the Swiss Wetterhorn (a peak often seen in lists with the Eiger, the Matterhorn, and Le Petit Drus). I had already discounted Wetterhorn as being too difficult. The problem? Uncompahgre is a 16 mile day with something like 5,000 feet of gain if you don’t have a four wheel drive. We have a conversion van.
Well I sure as heck wasn’t going back to the boring Sawatches for my last day. So I said, I might as well get up the Wetterhorn as far as I can. Just to be on a mountain that famous and get some good photos would be a great day. But, just in case the summit seemed accessible, I did my research the night before, finding numerous trip reports describing the summit pitch, a 150 foot class 3/4 gulley with over 600 feet of nearly vertical exposure. And that’s where the fear came in.
I’ve climbed before. I know what my limitations are. I know that if a well-anchored rope is tied to my body, fear is not even considered. But I also know that if I free solo a ten foot boulder, I freeze.
The approach to Wetterhorn was breathtaking. As soon as I crossed the first ridge and the treeline dumped me into the basin, I was faced with an inspiring view of Wetterhorn to the south, connected to the northern Matterhorn by a pinnacled ridge. The ridge looked like a cross between a saw blade and the backbone of a t-rex. Thankfully, the route carefully avoided the ridge and approached the mountain from the south, winding through rock gardens filled with marmots and fat pikas.
Approaching the Class 3 section, I noticed two other climbers ahead of me. I hurriedly stowed my poles and buckled my helmet. Climbing with others gives a sense of security. I soon scrambled up to them, and together we examined the sketchy route up the first gully, then the steeper second gully. I remember knocking a dinner plate-sized rock with my foot, and watching as it tumbled down the slopes, gaining momentum until it finally vaulted off the gully and over the vertical south face. I couldn’t help thinking that’s what would happen to a person who made a misstep. Three points of contact…
My fears came to a culmination as I approached the famous Ship’s Prow, which hides a tiny notch. After climbing the notch, you find yourself standing on a friction slab that literally slides you into the summit couloir. This is where I expected to turn around. But as I saw my two companions taking non-essentials out of their packs to lighten the load for the climb, I found myself doing the same. And as I saw them scoot on their butts into the couloir, I found myself doing the same. And the best part was the fears were gone.
I had prayed about this climb for the last 24 hours, but even after seeing God’s power on Massive and other mountains, I still didn’t really expect anything to happen. I didn’t believe that “understanding conquers fear,” but it does.
I have pictures of that pitch, and I start to sweat just looking at them. But while I was there, God was in control. Who am I kidding? God is always in control. But like I said before, it sometimes takes situations like Wetterhorn to make it obvious. All I remember is singing my two favorite mountaineering songs over and over again in my head—“Sometimes by Step” by Rich Mullins and “Your Love, Oh Lord” by Third Day.
“Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your spirit?
To be out of your sight?
If I climb to the sky, you’re there!
If I go underground, you’re there!
If I flew on the morning’s wings
To the far western horizon,
You’d find me in a minute.
You’re already there waiting for me.”
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