Finding Courage: Lessons from a Mountain Not a Hill

Strength comes in unexpected places, find out how a trip overseas to Switzerland gave our writer some bravery she didn’t think she had…

I used to think I was courageous in my youth. Willing to try new things, be adventurous, take risks etc. Life, however, teaches one to be careful. Especially when daily living took unexpected twists and turns and things turned out differently than what I had expected.

So, I learned to be more conservative with my choices and careful with the things I chose, particularly in the area of recreational pursuits. Making tough choices in a business setting was easy for me, but on a personal level, I think the years took a toll, and thus I learned and practiced the art of being "careful."

So it was on a recent trip to Switzerland that I started thinking about being brave– Wondering where and when I had lost my courage, and then, embarking on a journey to see if I could find it.

There was one particular mountain that loomed tall in the background in an area very close to where I was staying in Switzerland. I made some inquiries of my hosts, and they explained that the mountain was a popular place for hikers and had a beautiful view at the top. As I stared at one of the largest peaks in the area, I wondered if I would have the strength to climb the mountain. You see in Austin, Texas, we have hills, not mountains, with more gradual inclines. The bike paths around Austin, home to Lance Armstrong, are filled with road bikers who find joy every day in traveling long distances–pedaling around town and up and around the beautiful Hill Country in Central Texas near Austin every day. But mountains are different. They present unique challenges and at face level mountains are much more difficult than hills to climb.

The mountain in Switzerland that kept drawing my attention had a viewing tower on top and was well known to local hikers as a great way to spend the afternoon. Many locals would traverse the mountain peaks during the day and then enjoy a meal at the restaurant at the top before making the trip back down another route by car. I would however, try to conquer the mountain on my own, on foot both ways. Climbing mountains is not my expertise and I’m certainly not used to doing such things alone. I’m more of a social hiker, preferring to follow the known path that others set so that I don’t get lost , and steep, challenging trails are not usually my first choice when it comes to hiking. I much prefer groomed slopes or those where it is easy to see where to place one’s foot for the next step. But this day was different. The mountain beckoned to me, and I thought it was a good time to be adventurous. Very adventurous. I was in a country where I did not speak the language on a mountain trail that was not very well marked and in some places not marked at all. The path was very steep, extremely tough terrain and difficult in most places, and there weren’t any places to rest until one reached the top. My friends drew me a crude map and sent me up with their blessings to try this challenge, but only if I took a cell phone along as a backup in the event that I got into any trouble. But something happened while on the mountain that day. I enjoyed the challenge, even treasured the time alone. Looking at the ancient trees in the forest and the dark trail (it was very dark to climb up during most of the trail because of the denseness of the trees) brought time for contemplation, and important thoughts to note about life, it’s twists and turns and treasuring each moment. The route, as I’ve said before, was straight up, so it took great concentration to complete each step. I carefully placed my foot on the path where the rocks wouldn’t slide too much which would allow for a gradual climb upward. I noticed many hikers came with hiking equipment, trekking poles that would support them both on the upward and downward climbs. Since I was new to the area and this was the first time on the mountain I came with no such equipment.

Only a small bottle of water attached to my waist belt and an extra shirt for warmth in the coolness of the trees. Even though it was difficult work to climb up, there was very little sun coming through so I noticed the sweat on my chest and shoulders all the while that my legs were getting cold. One step in front of the other, don’t even think about how much farther you have to go, just keep putting your feet in front of one another and you’ll make it, I said to myself. Little did I know in my deep concentration that my friends were calling the cell phone several times during the afternoon to check on me. But I, seeing no need to have the cell phone on unless I needed it, had it turned completely off. This actually gave me several hours of blissful solitude with which to reflect as I made the climb up the mountain, one deliberate step at a time. I made it to the top as I saw the sun peering through the trees, and the area at the peak of the mountain that day revealed a glorious view. From the tower it seemed like I could actually touch part of Heaven, and I allowed myself about 10-15 minutes to rest and warm my cold legs before tackling the climb back down.

The interesting thing about coming down off the mountain that day was that during my climb up I often thought that if I could just make it up–that would be the hardest part. It’s always easier coming down, I imagined. But I was very wrong. The steepness of the mountain and the rocks and debris on the trail, made the descent down as difficult if not more difficult than the climb up. My muscles were protesting in places that obviously hadn’t received enough attention or workouts in the correct areas previously, even though I considered myself to be in fairly decent shape. This took another kind of perseverance to get down off the mountain. I had to be patient and not rush it, otherwise, if I took the wrong step, the rocks could easily shift and I could twist anankle or take a nasty tumble down the mountain. Any my only company that day were the birds and whatever animals that may have been looming in the forest, so I had to get down off this mountain all alone. So again, during the descent I had another chat with myself about just concentrating on the next step and giving myself some pats on the back for being courageous and conquering a difficult task.

When I got back to my friend’s house that night I learned that the lady of the household had commented that "she didn’t think she would’ve had the guts to take the journey that I took on the mountain that day." She said I was very "brave" which was a word I wouldn’t have used to describe myself, especially recently. In an unfamiliar country, not knowing the language, nor the trail, and hiking on a very difficult climb all alone–I guess, this day, I gained some courage. In the states I probably would not have taken the hike because on top of all the obstacles already mentioned, one generally has to worry about being female, on a hike alone in unfamiliar places and the crime that could so easily happen in areas of the United States, so I wouldn’t recommend trying something like this on your own. It just so happened that for me it was the right time. I found the right place to challenge myself. In Switzerland it’s "different" than in the US. Especially in some areas of the country. I didn’t read or hear about one crime during the time I was there. One could leave bikes out in public places and have them still there later or even the next day. There were only a few times on the trail that I even worried about being alone–and this quickly passed when I had to think about the next place to strategically place my foot. I made some great strides that day in finding my courage and felt a deep sense of accomplishment. Courage is not the absence of fear, but having the strength to face one’s fears, and doing it anyway. Perhaps I had had this courage all along, just forgotten it or not tapped into it as often as I could have as the years had passed. And in retrospect I think not only did I want to do the hike alone, but probably needed to do it. Courage, you see, comes from deep within us, even when we don’t think we have it. And sometimes climbing mountains is just what the doctor ordered.