A gentle wind rustles your lightweight jacket as the sun, directly overhead, shines brightly. It isn’t quite enough to break the slight chill you feel from the cool weather, but the light is significant enough to illuminate the awe-inducing world around you. Glancing around, you notice that there are no trees. The ground beneath you is nothing but rock and scattered patches of sand. You feel as though you can see the entirety of the world from where you are standing, and, maybe for a moment, you actually do.
The views from the top of a towering mountain above the treeline, where trees cannot grow, and into alpine tundra or Arctic conditions, feel alien. It’s as if the high elevation has transported you to a different planet. You stand there, realizing that not every person will get a chance to see these views either because of the physical challenges, monetary obstacles, or the very logical mental fear of dying in the backcountry. I’ve hiked solo to the summits of dozens of peaks above 8,000-10,000 feet (2,438.4–3,048 m), and I’m amazed every single time. Grateful for another safe and successful summit, surprised that the universe has allowed me to live this long despite all the side quests and adventures that I take, and enamored by the beautiful view from what feels like the top of the world.
This past weekend, I hiked to the highest point in Death Valley National Park. I spent the night before off-roading using my all-wheel drive to trek for miles up to a dispersed backcountry campground, and then hiked about 12 miles (19.3 km), because I couldn’t see the trail after a certain point in the snow and just had to guess, at 3,000 feet (914.4 m) of elevation, which felt like actual mountain climbing at a certain point.
Halfway through the hike after sinking deep into a foot of cold, melting snow, I thought to myself, “No one is forcing you to do this.” However, as the most determined and stubborn person I know, I also knew it would be a while before I tried to reach the summit again. I had driven for hours into the desert and up rough roads, and hiked thousands of feet up into the sky just to make it to where I was, so I pushed onward.
The 360-degree views from the top of Telescope Peak in Death Valley, CA, reveal the entire park, stretching all the way to the highest mountain in the contiguous U.S. To see the panoramic view of the Sierra Nevada mountains rising behind the desert, with the lowest, driest, and hottest point in North America at 282 feet (85.9 m) below sea level, is mind-boggling. It seems impossible, and yet, there you are, standing on the top of a mountain as if you were on top of the world itself in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday, eating a sandwich.
Suddenly, the problems you had near sea level seem meaningless. You momentarily forget the terrible news cycle that usually ruins your day. You are too busy trying to survive the adventure that you imposed upon yourself, rather than harp on the larger societal problems that can’t be tackled in one day. From the high elevation, standing solo on the mountain, you are forced to change your perspective on life and everything in it. What seems big and impossible to deal with on the ground feels possible when you are standing among the clouds.
I made a little vlog about my recent trip to Death Valley National Park. You can watch it on YouTube.