So often life takes energy. You have to stay focused, have direction. Things don’t just happen themselves, you have to work for it. But other times you find the flow. Opportunities seemingly fall in your lap, skeptically you reach out, things shouldn’t be this easy you think. Like a magnet you are drawn forward, unsure of your journey or destination. This is magic.
Last weekend I returned to the mountain range that has inspired so much of my concepts of adventure and travel in the alpine. The weather forecast teased me and lured me into believing. I arrived late, but as I drew closer I could feel the pull growing stronger. In the canyon the sun warmed the granite and a strong breeze shook the ponderosas. Above me periodic snow showers obscured the snow covered peaks and white veins of snow dropping from the summits.
I hesitated, vacillated, the road was still closed which meant a ski would require extra effort. I pulled out my gear, contemplated a small pack or a large one, a single day or an overnight. A feeling was growing inside me but I couldn’t exactly discern what it was. I snacked, brewed another cup of coffee, I had eaten poorly but wasn’t concerned. Thoughts bubbled up out of my mind, ideas, routes, plans, itineraries, conditions. I sat amongst the fallen pine needles on the edge of the creek and listened to the wind and water scour the landscape. Slowly, but also all at once, the moment arrived and it was time to go, I was being pulled and could respond or sit longer and let it pass. I was caught and five minutes later I was nearly running past the gate and up the steep washboarded road wondering where the day would bring me.
I tried to reason, to set limits, or goals for myself that would keep me safe. I had departed near one pm, and even with the lengthening days of spring there was only so much day left. Turn-around times and observations for fatigue passed through my mind. I wasn’t prepared to spend the night, much less encounter injury or adverse conditions, but I had a vague sense of confidence in my judgement and abilities that powered me forward.
I was moving fast, an hour and I was transitioning to skis, another and I was close to arriving at the lake. Four hours and I found myself clawing up the last icy steps of Aasgard as the wind blew quick bursts of snow over my head. Atop the pass I transitioned quickly, I tried to listen to the voice of reason but it had become silent. The magnet now had me completely in its power and I was being pulled. With the wind at my back I began the long gradual descent into Snow Creek.
Firm snow and a tailwind quickly ushered me through the greater expanse of the Enchantments. Annapurna’s broad white shoulder beckoned, but I skated by, soon losing elevation and encountering a thin, breakable snowpack. I found the skin track and followed it in the opposite direction that most were traveling, answering a few confused questions and trying to maintain a quick pace as I began to lose energy and question how many miles still lay ahead.
I thrashed my way down the last few hundred vertical feet of snow, sliding over fallen trees and scraping across dirt and loose granite. Snow Creek wall loomed ahead and the light was beginning to fade as I sat and drank from the creek and put my sneakers on my feet and skis on my back. I should mention this was all familiar terrain, although I hadn’t been here for almost three years and never with this much snow, I felt a sense of understanding that aided in my confidence. I trotted down the trail at a brisk pace, attempting to warm my flat phone in hopes of reaching out to nearby friends should my hitchhike prove troublesome.
Just before nine pm I stumbled into the Snow Creek lot, now dark and nearly empty of cars. I threw my skis in the ditch and shined the beam of my headlamp on my outstretched thumb. It might have been a busy weekend but nearly a dozen cars cruised past before a kind young couple from Whidbey Island made some room for me in their back seat.
It was late when I finally had everything in my truck. The day’s journey was slowly setting in and I cruised in to Der Town for der sausage and bier. I crawled into the back of my truck and closed my eyes, the magnet now spent and pulling on someone or something else.
I wanted to recount this not as a trip report or some athletic feat, but as a reminder to let yourself be pulled into the mountains under the auspice of awe and wonder. So often we approach the mountains attempting to plan and guide every decision or obstacle before it’s ever even encountered. Not only does this siphon away much of the discovery and excitement of an adventure, but it’s somewhat of a fool’s errand, for if you’ve planned and prepared every step of the way what exactly is it that’s left to be discovered? I’m not advocating for wonton disregard to conditions or ability, but I’m certainly promoting pushing the boundaries of what you think might be prudent. I’ve been wanting to do the Enchantment traverse for some time and the modest snow cover allowed me to cover the twenty plus miles quickly and easily. While this might not be the case for others I think we each can relate with the way a mountain range, an idea, or even a feeling can pull you in, can inspire you to test your limits and discover new confidence. Throw out your plan, follow your heart, let yourself be Enchanted. Stumble home sore and tired, use your headlamp and don’t forget to smile.