Why I Climb

One of the most prevalent and difficult questions received by mountaineers is 'Why do you climb'? I have heard this question from family, friends, and strangers more often then I recall. I will do my best to answer this question here.

So, why do we choose to spend most winter - spring weekends on the side of a mountain? Why do we willingly and enthusiastically drive hundreds of miles to carry 40+ pounds on our backs up thousands of feet? Why do we volunteer for cold feet, dehydrated food, the inside of a nylon tent, and 1:00am wake-up calls to step out into 20 degree weather? Why do we spend our weeknights obsessed with gear lists, armed with a kitchen scale, in pursuit of of a two ounce weight saving? Why indeed?

I will first offer the answer most commonly quoted by mountaineers. As famously stated by George Mallory, arguably the first to summit Mt. Everest with Andrew Irvine in 1924, mountaineers are driven by the central tenet that we climb "Because it's there". Part of me will always be sad that this quote, this terse soundbite, is the most well known legacy of this incredible pioneer. This statement does poor service to the complexity, respect for nature, and the internal struggles experienced in service to these pursuits. If we must turn to Mallory for wisdom I much prefer the alternate quotation - "Have we vanquished an enemy? None but ourselves."

With Mallory out of the way, no disrespect to those that have gone before, I'd like to talk about why I  personally choose to climb.

Mt. Rainier - Ingraham Flats Camp

Appreciation of Our Place in Nature: My first and primary reason is to remind myself, as often as possible, of my true place in nature. I feel strongly that is important to be in touch with our place in the universe. We, all of us, are tiny and fragile creatures in a great big world.

The wild places remind me that we are all but one small entity, no more or less important than the smallest chipmunk, but blessed with the powers of choice, autonomy, and appreciation. My time in these special places reminds me to respect our wide and wonderful world and take nothing for granted. Our time is short, these moments are precious, and our life is fleeting. We need to make the most of it at all times.

Summit Crater of Mt. Rainier

Our Capabilities Are Bigger Than We Think: This one is huge for me personally. There is a moment of fear at the start of every big climb, every new job, and every new learning experience. The self-doubt creeps in insidiously. Can I do this? Should I do this? What if I can't? Maybe I should just quit now? No. Never. Keep going.

These experiences teach me, again and again, that it is alright to feel fear. It is alright to feel overwhelmed. It is alright to sit in these moments but not for too long. These moments can be acknowledged but must then replaced with the resolve to move past them. You can reach that summit. You can keep going. You will reach your goal.

It might hurt, it might be harder than you expected it to be, and it might take several attempts before you get it right. But it will happen. The moments of breakthrough, in climbing and in life, are made that much sweeter by the effort required to achieve them. I have never achieved anything important without first seriously quitting at least once - at least twice on the way up Rainier! We are made better by pushing through these moments. The first step on the summit always makes it all worth it.

First Light on Mt. Adams Summit Push

Moments of Pure Joy: It seems that every outdoor adventure brings with it at least one moment of pure joy. This is what I chase. It isn't the adrenaline, it isn't the overcoming of fear, and it isn't proving myself in a male dominated outdoor arena. These are all worthy side goals but these are not the heart of the pursuit.

The photo above captures one such moment. This was taken in 2014 at approximately 9,900 ft on the summit push of Mt. Adams. My husband (seen here), myself, and a dear friend had spent the night at 8,500 ft. and started for the summit at 3:45am. This photo was taken at around 5:00am as the very first light hit the false summit of the mountain. There was something intensely magical about sharing this breathtaking moment with people I love. In this space everything was exactly at it should be. I will remember this moment for the rest of my life.

I have experienced similar moments on the shores of alpine lakes, on chair lifts with the sun on my face, and on warm rocks in flower meadows. Everyone has their special places and precious experiences that brings them their own version of pure joy. These moments are mine.