I gotta see about a mountain
I’m booked on Delta and flying to Utah on the 18th of September 0800 hours. The excitement isn’t that I was able to reserve the window seat 20A (I always have loved the back corner of a plane), nor that I get to see old stomping grounds after a long hiatus. This trip is all about Mount Timpanogos. Last I was in Utah was 5 years ago for a NFJS conference, also in September, and I made a point to have the Sunday of the conference off to visit Timp. It had been 14 years since the first and only other time I hiked the mountain, but it seemed like last week. I didn’t make some of the same mistakes of my first hike: late start, little water, almost no food. Then again it was 14 years after my stupid year, as I now refer to it with some affection.
The first time I hiked Timp I didn’t respect her at all. Then again I never intended to reach the summit. I had hiked the trail up to the large waterfall a couple of times, and once to where the concrete ends, and just wanted to go a little further. I had a single small round insulated container of water, and four granola bars. Of course the granola bars just had to be shoved in with the water because it would be silly to grab a bag of some sort for just some granola bars that were going to be consumed anyways. Of course I didn’t consider that this meant I was carrying much less water than I should have been. I started hiking late morning, and made it to the lake in the early afternoon. There were people milling about, and I remember asking them how much further it was to the summit. Two hours? Hearing that was the equivalent of a third base coach waving me on as I rounded third base: don’t think about it, just press on.
I remember the first time I looked over the saddle of Timp. There isn’t a way to describe it in a sentence that doesn’t sound too melodramatic and grandiose. I didn’t have any idea of what to expect, or how high up I was. When you are hiking up the mountain you go from somewhere between 7,000 and 8,000 feet to almost 12,000 feet, covering almost a mile in elevation change, and 7 miles in distance. During the hike you lose the sense of how high you are rather quickly. At about 10,400 feet you loose sight of Deer Creek Reservoir as you head over to the the rim of Timpanogos Basin. Everywhere around you there is at most a thousand feet in elevation change. Then, when you look over the saddle you are met with a 7,000 foot drop and can see past the Pinyon Peaks to the south west. The summit is almost anti-climactic after the impact of that view. Almost.
However, even if this trip doesn’t give me the view I’m hoping to get, it is worth it to spend some time with the mountain. This is one of those times when there is more to gain by laying aside hopes and expectations and accepting the moments as you encounter them. I know that I can’t take Timpanogos with me, but I think that will add to those moments. Knowing that the experience is temporary encourages me to savor the trail, take frequent stops, and be thankful for this time even if there isn’t a next time. Like last time, it will be much different than the first time, before I realized the impact that the mountain makes on my life; how it reminds me of priorities that I had long ignored: like the outdoors and my health. This time, like the last, I will again refuse to take the mountain for granted. It will be the meal that you savor (Balistreri’s Bluemound Inn), the movie you watch over and over (Princess Bride), while at the same time something different—-I love beer, but on some nights pineapple juice helps you think with greater clarity.