For the past six days I was engulfed by the Wyoming wilderness. Every year, my fiance’s brother, plans a multi-sport expedition complete with mountaineering, rock climbing, pack-rafting, running—and lots of suffering. We travel unsupported and the goal is to complete a loop as fast and light as possible. Last year we climbed Mt. Rainier’s longest route, skied down the other side, paddled down the White River in Alpacka rafts we’d carried, and biked 60 miles back to the car. This year our goal was to climb several peaks in Wyoming’s Wind River Range—including a technical ascent of Mt. Helen’s Tower One and a stop atop the state’s high point, Mt. Gannet. We’d then attempt to descend through an un-tracked valley and paddle out via the Green River.
We’d surrender our worries to the mountains and weather. All we could do was try to exist within the framework that these rugged places built up around us. The first day was beautiful and we eased in with a sunny 22 mile hike. A huge storm on the second day forced us off the ridge we were climbing and we squirmed beneath a massive rock—soaked and shivering—with lightning exploding all around us.
The next day, the anxiety level mellowed and the sun returned and the route to Mt. Gannet’s peak was straight forward—boot tracks led the way up the steep snow ridge. We delayed our unknown descent and spent the next two days picking our way from the exposed summit to the river. It was slow and tedious with some rappels into the unknown, endless fields of scree, and lots of glissading. The danger was gone, but so were the sexy summits. Reality remained and the long, endurance suffering was about to kick in. We’d told ourselves again and again that once we got to the river, but after 10 miles (we had 32 miles to go) my shoulders where in agony, and there was no end in sight. Work, exhaustion, and monotony marked the end of the loop.
As is often the case in life, reaching our destination wasn’t easy, but it was almost harder to figure out what to do once we arrived. That part can be scary and debilitating.
In the wilderness my body works hard, but everything else is so simple and easy. Coming back after these big expeditions, adventure races, and retreats can shock my system. Things like walls, cars, e-mail and voice mail don’t make sense when you are deep in the woods soaking up mother nature. Dealing with the dirty laundry and sorting gear is much more depressing than packing for the trip.
When the excitement of the journey starts to fade, what then? For me the answer is people. Teamwork. Comraderie. Relationships.
My life is a lot like mountaineering lately. Packing and planning for major trips is exciting and fun. When I am deep in the event, it is awesome, simple, focused and even carefree. My goals are met with tangible outcomes and the end result—no matter what it might be—is rewarding. Once I am out there, I work with what I’ve got, there is nothing more I can do. But coming down can be hard and emotionally taxing. I’ve been through the wind-down many, many times—yet I still keep jumping from one thing the next.
My family thinks that I am addicted to the highs, which probably partly true. But I am also addicted to the people. Even once I’ve moved on to my next adventure, the reflections of profound looks that I’ve share with friends on the metaphorical (and actual) summits of the life’s big journeys remain.
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Chelsey Gribbon of Team Yogaslackers is our Yoga guru and a world-class adventure-racer to boot. She’s traveling, training, and has even made a video, V.I.B.E. or Vinyasa Inspired by Experience, for Women’s Adventure readers. Stay tuned for more ways to integrate yoga and your adventures.
