At Lake Louise

Playing in Mud
I was at Lake Louise rock climbing this weekend. Lake Louise is a special places for me. The highlight this weekend occurred as we were returning from the back of the lake to the Chateau. The lake is at its lowest depth this time of the year and, for the first time that I'd ever been there, two people were walking in the mud on its remote edge. Actually, they weren't walking; they were playing. The bottom must have been gooey because they would put one foot in and pull it out slowly and high. Sometimes they hopped up and down, other times they walked with exaggerated motions. I smiled as I watched them play. Later, I thought that if I smiled when watching them play, then others would too, and if we all played more, more people would smile.

Rock climbing at Lake Louise
I started rock climbing because I thought climbing would help me trust other people more. Climbing has helped me learn to trust myself more. After climbing at an indoor gym for about ten months, I signed up for a two-day beginner course through an outdoors-based organization. The first day we went to a very easy crag and I climbed on ropes set by the guides. The second day, we went to the back of Lake Louise. The guides set up the ropes and I began to climb, initially quite confidently. I stopped at one point and the guide called up, “What’s going on there?” I replied, “I’m scared and I don’t know why.” He asked me to look where I was. I noticed that I had climbed off route and one of the clips was keeping me from climbing higher. The only way back on route was to climb down or take a little dipping fall. My legs were tired from tensing in one position while this dialogue went on, so I chose to fall. It was okay, but I was so spent that I decided not to climb higher. I sat on a log and watched the other climbers. I ate some lunch and drank some juice. The guide asked me if I wanted to try another route. I said no.

Fifteen or twenty minutes passed, and I realized that I wanted to climb and I wanted to complete a route that wasn’t bolted in but set by one of the guides using traditional (ie, removable) protection. I climbed up the rock face using the crack until I was nearly at the top of the route where an arête loomed. I tried the arête and fell. I tried again and again. I could feel the sun on my back and a sense of peace. Time stopped. I moved my feet an inch higher and reached again. Close. I inched up again and reached over the arête. I had completed the climb.

I climbed several more routes that day. I felt a deep happiness in my chest that night as I drove home through the mountains, into the foothills and then into prairie with the sky and clouds all around.

I was back climbing the same route this weekend, and it struck me just how powerful that first climb at Lake Louise was. I was scared and didn't know why. I had climbed off route, and was being held back unable to go further. This is how a lot of us feel when we've strayed from our North Star, when we're off our true route. We're scared and we don't know why. And...if we get back on route, we may still be scared when we take that dipping fall but the rewards are deep happiness. I'm not on-route consistently in life or when I climb, but when I'm way off route, I sure know how it feels now.