The little brave makes the big brave
If you read the first post you know about a moment when I sent an email saying yes I am coming to Mexico for at least three months. It really didn’t feel brave at all. It felt reckless, selfish, ridiculous, and brazen but it also felt so very right. Saying yes to that apartment (which we never lived in because it was not as advertised but that’s another story) put me on a course I could have never charted.
What I have found is that little moments of saying yes are what have moved me forward time after time. They aren’t usually well thought out (that’s a pisces for ya) but come from my gut. These yeses then usually lead to an “oh fuck” moment where I have the choice to back out or be brave.
One of my favorite examples is the progression that lead me to summit Three Fingered Jack in August of 2018. No one usually just wakes up and climbs a mountain. I mean… there are some that you can do that with but Three Fingered Jack isn’t one that I think is conquered without some kind of journey to get you there. Mine started in so many places but one yes path I can identify started with a no in Ecuador.
Lincoln and I went to visit la Basilica del Voto Nacional when we were in Quito, Ecuador in January. It is a stunning and massive cathedral with the ridiculous option to GO UP ONE OF THE SPIRES. I am so terrified of heights but had managed to climb ladders and walk over planks to get to the last push- a grate staircase that ascended the spire. And I could not. I tried four separate times and each time my body froze from fear. I nearly threw up twice. Finally I begged a mom to take Link with her so he could see the view from the top. She was so very sweet and even took pictures for me. I felt so disappointed in myself.
Fast forward to March, when and Link and I are in Monteverde, Costa Rica. He is begging me to take him zip lining. For some absurd reason I agree hoping perhaps it might be fun in some small way. It wasn’t. It was so cold (we were in a cloud) and so very high up. I skipped out on the Tarzan swing at the start hoping that I had dodged the worst of it, but I was terribly wrong. I had to will my way off platform after platform. Link was giddy beyond belief and had to ride with one of the guides eventually because he wouldn’t brake. I, on the other hand, god yelled at many times for braking too much and too soon. Whatever. We survived. He loved it. I am never going again.
Later that spring Micheala and I were working on planning a one week tour in June through Utah, including a visit to Zion National Park. She is insisted on planning to hike Angels Landing. This 5 mile round trip hike entails a two mile slog uphill followed by a half a mile scramble up around, over, and on top of a ridge. A very exposed ridge. With steep drop offs on either side. There are chains all along to provide you with a false sense of safety and comfort. I never made it to the summit because Link tanked about two pushes from the top (a story for another day) but I made it further than I expected. What was curious to me was that I never hesitated. I was terrified but had the ability to override it over and over again to get me as far as I did.
A month later, in July, I was traveling to Bend for work and was looking for a hike to do on my way there or back. Michaela came it with the brilliant idea to backpack into Green Lakes in the Three Sisters wilderness to prepare for a South Sister summit. We hiked the five miles in easily, set up camp, and went to bed early because of our planned alpine start. We woke up at one am and were out of the tent and on our way by one-thirty. What you need to know about me here is that I am more terrified of the dark than I am of heights. Mercifully, the ability to override fear had become second nature at this point and I put my head down and walked by the light of our headlamps till sunrise. More than once I scared myself by thinking shadows were going to eat me.
Jesus, it was worth it. Do you know mountain shadows are a thing? I saw my first one that morning. I wouldn’t trade that whole slog, my first summit, my first night sleeping in the backcountry, and the feeling of accomplishment from pushing through my fear of the dark for anything. Being scared and doing it anyways was worth it.
With that experience now in my repertoire, I had an enthusiastic yes when I was invited to accompany sweet Emma Juth and Michaela up Three Fingered Jack. I should add here that this mountain isn’t just a long walk. I mean part of it is but the last bit requires climbing ropes and harnesses a little bit of technical knowledge. It’s not so technical that it’s a big deal but enough of one that it is. You know?
The alpine start was actually, dare I say, comfortable as I followed those two beautiful women into the dark. The slog into the climbers’ trail and slog to the scramble was challenging but satisfying. Michaela, having been up twice already, expertly lead us through the scramble. I pushed on through fear more times than I could count choosing to not look over the side and just focus on going up. The girls roped exposed sections they normally wouldn’t have for my scared ass and I was beyond grateful.
By the time we reached the chimney, the part where rope were actually required, I was emotionally drained. As they sorted out who was going to lead the climb, tears started streaming down my cheeks. Both girls gave me the chance to call it good at the base of the climb but I shook my head and asked them to just keep moving. I knew I could do it, I just had to do it scared. And holy shit was that uncomfortable.
I made it up very very slowly, with Emma up top encouraging me and Michaela at the bottom telling me where the next hold was. Finally, on the summit, I was utterly paralyzed with fear .While the two of them scrambled all over that high ridge taking pictures and smiling, I hugged the tabletop sized actual summit unnecessarily clipped in and terrified. But I did it. Fucking scared and fucking brave.
And then I had to get down. Which involved rappelling and looking down all the scary drops I had so carefully avoided seeing on the way up. I feel like this is often the case when there is a really big brave moment…. It is followed by more brave you simply don’t have the capacity for but you have climbed yourself up a big mountain and you now have to get yourself down. This is when I feel like, for me, the brave became intrinsic.
My therapist often reminds that I don’t have to be perfect, I just have to try. That trying will rewrite the patterns in my brain and help me establish ones that will help me live the life I want. I genuinely believe that exercises like not making it up the cathedral spire, zip lining when I didn’t want to, making it through Angel’s landing by not thinking about it, reminding myself all night that I was safe on South Sister, and then putting it all together for Three Fingered Jack have helped rewire my brain for doing absurd things like saying yes to moving to Australia.
