This year has been a tough one for many of us, marked by the fires in Los Angeles, global politics, and economic crisis. My last remaining grandparent died this year, and I’m unemployed right now. However, I have been given this brief moment in time to explore the U.S. Pacific Coast, reflect on my life and its direction, and begin making plans for the future.
I had it in my head that I wanted to tackle all the tallest peaks in the West. I grabbed my climbing axe, crampons, and downloaded maps of the summit routes for the tallest mountains in each of the western states. However, the weather and the timing of the trip would play a massive role in what actually came of the trip.
On the first leg of my great American road trip west, I attempted to summit Mount Shasta. I had my ice axe and crampons, but I ended up stopping at the Mountain View on the summit route because I didn’t trust my mountaineering skills in adverse weather.
I had already started on the trail late and didn’t want to be stuck on the mountain by myself in the dark. The old me would have tried to push forward anyway, but a newer, wiser version of me, with more self-preservation, saw the end of the hiking season as a reason to enjoy the trails before the rock face.
The trip wasn’t a waste of time, though. I saw a herd of deer and walked for hours beyond the wilderness boundaries, amidst the tallest trees, and sipped glacier water from the mountain stream. I enjoyed a night under the northern stars and stood in awe before the towering mountain.
The trip evolved from there. Although I didn’t summit, I shifted my focus. It was less about conquering extreme challenges and more about enjoying new experiences.
