The Mountains are Calling
In all of my travels, I’ve found one thing to be true: if you travel for nature, it will nurture your soul. And lately, I’m feeling well nurtured.
You see, last weekend I went to REI Outessa. If you don’t know what that is, it’s what I would describe as adventure camp for women: camping, hiking, rock climbing, kayaking, mountain biking, etc. All the things I love or would love to do, if only I knew how (Except for mountain biking. That shit freaks me out.) And based on the sage advice of a stranger who had traveled the world, I not only signed up for this little excursion, I decided to go it alone.
Now, I get it. It’s not as though I traveled to Botswana on my own (although, maybe someday?!). It was in the beautiful Sierra Nevada mountains. But it still meant that I would be spending 3 1/2 days on my own, doing a bunch of things I don’t know how to do, in front of a bunch of badass women who didn’t know me, in a place I had never been, and at an altitude that would make physical exertion a bit tricky. Intimidating? I think, yes.
But it wasn’t.
Because on my drive in from the Reno airport, you know what I saw? The mountains. And the mountains were why I went in the first place. The mountains both make me feel like I’m at home and intimidate the crap out of me. And I find that to be the perfect balance of life. So whatever else this weekend was going to throw at me, it didn’t matter. Because I was there for the mountains.
And the mountains were there for me.
The mountains became my literal home. I camped on the bunny hill of the mountain resort. The darkness, the stars, the sounds, the breezes, and, yes, even the bugs became part of my home. And although I discovered that camping on a slope is the WORST, I figured out how to adjust and kept that beautiful spot.
The mountains became my playground. I climbed rocks, hiked steep (STEEP) paths, and kayaked and stand-up paddle boarded through its lakes. I cut my arm, bruised my legs and fell at least twice. And while doing that on the streets of Chicago would have me cussing under my breath (or a bit louder, depending on the situation), somehow there, I wanted to thank the mountains for giving me battle scars that proved my hard work.
The mountains became my source of inspiration and rejuvenation. There is nothing like waking up in the morning and seeing the sun rise over the mountains. Or eating dinner with a view of them. I mean, c’mon. Just look at them. My mood was lifted 1242432432% just sitting there, not moving a muscle. Honestly, my mood is lifted right now just looking at the pictures.
And while I learned serious outdoor and survival skills while I was with the REI crew and met some of the most incredible, badass ladies I could have imagined, that’s not why I went. I went because the mountains were calling.
I needed to stop staring at my computer screen for a minute. I needed to see that my issues are largely insignificant in the grander scheme. I needed to feel challenged and scared and outside of my comfort zone. I needed to feel strong. And I needed to realize that I too was actually one of the badass ladies on this trip.
The famous wilderness preservation advocate, John Muir, once said “The mountains are calling and I must go.” And no quote has ever spoken more to me. The mountains are why I went on this trip and so many others. And it’s why I decided to pick up my entire life and move to Colorado later this week. I started paying attention to the mountains. And I must go.
So whether the mountains, the beach, the river, the woods, the desert, the rain forest, the sea, or anything else calls for you, pick it up and just go. Trust me, it’s always worth it.