Free Will

The weather was good and I had a hankering for a hike even though it is only early June and the options are somewhat limited.  However, I did not go to bed early, did not make advance plans with any friends and ended up sleeping until 9:30.  Those are all typically plan-killers.  Traditionally, you do not wake up at 9:30 and go for a hike much less on the east side of Glacier National Park, which is nearly 2 hours away.  However, when I woke up late and groggy and lamented to Ted that I blew it, he reminded me that the days are long now and I still had many many hours of daylight.  I did the math and realized if I hustled I could easily do a long hike all the way on the east side of Glacier National Park and have plenty of daylight.  Admittedly, I am a social critter and rarely venture out alone.  But I wanted an adventure.

For some silly reason I not only wanted to hike, but wanted to test my bravery off-trail without the pressure of company.  Not that I have a single friend who judges me for my cowardice (to my knowledge), but I have this compulsion to overcome and prove.  But I need practice you see (so that I can prove I guess).  Alone.  Without pressure.  It's comforting to know that you can turn around if you want and disappoint no one.

A few years ago I experienced my first off-trail GNP "scramble" when Brad took me Jill and Dave on an extended Scenic Point ridge walk.  I recall being freaked out by the climb up Medicine, pictured above.  I also remember it being so exhilarating.  I have not actually gained that much experience since, but this time it was an incredibly easy walk up.  It is now difficult for me to fathom what made me jittery the first time.  I can only guess that it was my inexperience and my unreasonable level of fear.  It is freeing to be less afraid.  (Yes, it's basically a little knob, bear with me here).

Above all, it was freeing to willfully do something that I knew might be scary but not be scared at all.  I was not marching up because a friend was taking me there (and don't get me wrong I am insanely grateful for any invite), but because I had independently chosen my precise route and every exact step.  It was my choice to continue on or turn back.  The power to choose and be deliberate quashes fear. 

I was giddy and elated thinking about how alone I was.  There were lots of folks on the trail and the chances of spending more than an hour alone were nill.  Upon the ridge, even being a relatively popular ridge, I was completely alone.  In the few rare moments when the insanely strong wind quieted, the quiet was powerful.  I was alone.  (Though you could probably see me from the Scenic Point trail -- I wasn't exactly in the super remote outer bounds of civilization.  But this is all relative remember). 

Pictured above is Mt. Henry.  I turned around at the spot of this photo.  Although I had planned to retrace my steps I scoped out the route down through the drainage and decided to take an unplanned and unknown-to-me route off-trail back to my truck.  I could see from above what looked like an easy route, and don't get me wrong, it was (though tedious it turned out), but I couldn't help but feel doubtful and question my decision making as I picked my way down the large rocky scree slopes towards the trail (which bounced in and out of view which was nerve wracking).  I even crossed a singular snow field alone.  I hate snow fields, even when they are low angle and the run-out is not particularly dangerous.  I am fearful.  But I totally wasn't.  Because if I chose to I could have avoided it.  But I decided to cross it.

Above is the drainage I came down.  In truth it's quite easy (though from afar it look sort of cliff-y no?), but for me, having never done it and being alone, it was an adventure.  Above all, spending a day making my own decisions and suffering my own consequences was a spectacular reminder that I do have free will and can make my own way -- for better or worse.  (And on reflection, I have made an excellent way, by the way (so far)).