212. Why that longing
“It is always the same with mountains. Once you have lived with them for any length of time, you belong to them. There is no escape.” — Ruskin Bond
I am just back from my third multi-day Himalayan trek and I’m just not able to shake myself off from its hangover. It feels like one of my feet is still stuck in the mighty Himalayas. This was the nature’s rawest that I ever experienced. It was an eight-day trek in the Western Sikkim range of the Himalayas. It is said that this is the closest you get to the Mount Kanchenjunga, the third highest mountain in the world, without actually climbing it. You get to see 14 other big peaks too, But I was most impressed by the Mount Pandim. Our final summit at a height of over 15,000 feet, just about touched Mount Pandim, while the mighty Kanchenjunga blessed us detachedly from a distance of about 12–13K.
In my limited experience of doing treks in the Himalayas and the Western Ghats in India, this turned out to the most arduous one yet. There were three dimensions to the challenge that I faced on this trek. For one, it was physically demanding — on one of the ascending days, we gained a net altitude over 3500 feet and on one of the descending days we climbed down over 4000 feet. Another dimension was the thinness of air — at the altitudes at which we spent of most of our days, the oxygen levels were less than 15% of what they would be at sea level. Final dimension was the cold — it was below -5 degrees Celsius in the nights for about half of our time there. Long time ago, I spent six winters in Minneapolis but that experience did not help much because we did not have safe places in these treks. There were no heated houses or hotels. You put on enough layers and sleep in tents which are not equipped to keep the cold out.
This trek created lifelong memories — magical views of the mighty Himalayan peaks, dreamlike environ of the resplendent rhododendrons and the ebullient magnolia flowers, the energetic activity of various high-altitude birds, the heart-rending longing for the deep forests and the sheer scale of biodiversity.
“Somewhere between the bottom of the climb and the summit is the answer to the mystery why we climb.” — Greg Child
Nevertheless, the trek was hard. No doubt! So, why do regular people — those who are not mountaineers, those who do regular jobs in crowded cities in the plains, who run normal families — take up such treks? In our debriefing session, my trek mates advocated their reasons. Few took up treks for the views; few to find meaning or direction when faced with personal setbacks or tragedies, even; few to experience nature; few to escape the ennui of regular life and few to gain self-confidence.
When we reached our final summit, few of us broke down. I did too but not overtly. The sheer rawness of the imposing mountains accentuated by their glacial background felt too surreal to not be moved by it.
But I still wondered, was all the effort really worth it?
“I was no longer following a trail. I was learning to follow myself.” — Aspen Matis
As it turns out, this is a recurring question for me. I wondered similarly in the final kilometres of all my full marathon races and many times even during many training runs — particularly in long tempo runs. I wondered the same during each of my four 100 Kilometre trailwalker treks in the Western Ghats. I guess this question pops up every time I subject my body to any enduring physical ordeal. But inevitably, after suffering the pain and completing the event, I tend to get drawn back to more such endurance projects. While I don’t know what goes on in others’ minds, I don’t think this feeling is limited to me — it quite likely is more universal. So, why this longing?
I think each time you go through with an endurance event, something in you changes for good. You become a stronger person, you become a more confident person, you become less arrogant and more humble, you become more thankful and more authentic. Do you also become more human? It feels like you dial into some kind of universal calling. Perhaps you get a little bit closer to expressing or realizing your true potential.
“There is no heavier burden than an unfulfilled burden.” — Charles Schulz
I think one of the most vitalizing things in life is to explore your potential. Given that there is no external benchmark for potential, this is essentially an open-ended endeavour. You challenge yourself, become better, recoup, recover, and repeat. If you don’t break this momentum, this can be a self-reinforcing process.
Challenge and potential need not be explored in the Himalayas alone. Without having to explicitly seek more of them, we have enough challenges as it is. There is always scope to become better in everything we do. You can always be a better parent, better spouse, better child, better employee, better employer, better business person, better society person, better runner….
However you define “better”, there seems to be something “meta” about becoming better — like a primordial human calling — a universal human calling.
Bottomline
“Without the energy that lifts mountains, how am I to live?” — Mirabai
I believe that treks can serve as a sandbox to build the strength and attitude required for whatever it is that you want to attain in your life — growth, progress, potential, happiness or peace. Afterall, anything important you want in your life probably won’t come easy — else, it may not remain special. For, it is the not the absence of discomfort that makes anything worthwhile — it is actually the prevailing when faced with discomfort. Treks can test you and push you. Treks may remind you that life can really be an adventure. Treks may have truly transformational impact on you.
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