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Climb Your Mountain

January 25, 2009

In today’s climate of prepackaged, predigested experiences, it’s easy to fall into a sort of artificial life. Many of our shared experiences come from watching people we’ll never meet pretend to be people who don’t exist. We’re often so disconnected that we feel watching someone else experience something is equivalent to experiencing it ourselves. My trip to Greece was the opposite: full of seeing and doing and being.

As we disembarked at Amelia Hotel, we wasted no time booking up one of our free afternoons. While a group of girls readied themselves to explore the little town of Delphi, my roommate Sam looked up at our mountainous backdrop and declared, “We’re gonna climb that.”

After depositing our luggage, a group of us departed the hotel. Same quickly convinced Travis, Ariosto and I to accompany him. We found steps up to the slope and were soon hurrying over patches of wild rosemary. I felt like we had just walked through a long forgotten herb garden when we reached the foot of a long rock flow. By this point, my sweater and heavy leather jacket had combined with the exertion to cause me to begin to sweat. The sliding rocks, however, convinced me it would be impossible to climb up while holding my jacket. Sam, Travis and Ariosto scrambled up over small rocks and large rocks and soon were so far ahead of me that I couldn’t see them beyond the prickly bushes that pressed in on the sides of the twisting rock flow.

As I struggled up, I had ample time to be alone with my thoughts. Beyond the small prayers every time a rock dislodged, I realized how out of shape I was. I thought of all the statues of ancient athletes and how someone who cared so much about their health and physique would have no problem making this climb. Wiping sweat from my brow, I decided that I should be dedicated to the Greek physical ideal as well.

The others waited for me at the top of the rock flow and I considered leaving my leather jacket to keep up with the group. I decided not to because I didn’t want to come back for it. I would soon be very glad of my decision.

Our next obstacle was a stretch of very technical, nearly vertical climbing. As we worked our way up, I willed myself higher, clinging to the sheer wall and clutching at hand holds. It was at this point that I realized how real this experience was. This was not a rock wall in a gym with a harness and ropes. If I were to fall, I couldn’t just press restart. With this realization, my confidence grew with each rocky crag I crested and each bramble I barreled through.

The land flattened into a gentle slope and Trevor caught up to us after starting later. Although it was frustrating to realize we had not yet reached a peak, we took heart in the sudden ease of movement. We continued up with lighter steps and soon reached a ridge. Sam discovered the first patch of snow with many to follow. After a brief reverie in our accomplishment, we turned to salute the sun as Helios returned it to its fiery resting place.

We found a fortuitous road that led us to a winding path down the mountain. Trevor regaled us with stories of his time at West Point in the descending darkness. I felt a sense of camaraderie and pride mingling with the sore feet and bruised knees. We entered the town as conquering heroes and stopped at a local café for some well deserved pizza and beer.

In retrospect, it may have not been any great feat to climb that mountain, people do greater things every day, but I broke my preconceived notions about what I could and couldn’t do. I went up against what I thought to be impossible and prevailed. It is these victories over the impossible that make us mortal and in so doing make life unique and worth living.

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