Tag: mountains

Getting unstuck

On By Mountains of Life1 Comment

I’ve been stuck many times in my life and in many ways, but this trip to the mountains brought a completely new experience. I knew that winter trails can be very different from summer ones, but it seems that I didn’t do my homework properly. To be fair to myself, it’s very much because I walked the same trail a year ago and everyone followed pretty much the summer variant. This time was different. I stayed in the mountain hut and left very early in the morning in the hope of catching the sunrise on Szpiglasowy Wierch. If I followed the winter trail, I had a chance to make it.

I was climbing the south face of the mountain, which means that in this glorious weather, the snow was melting during the day and freezing in the evening. In the couple of weeks before I arrived, there were a few avalanches in this area, so there were avalanche debris fields on the way. Those, of course, were also melting and freezing at different times of day. When you climb, especially a steep path, you often look at what’s immediately in front of you, one step at a time. As I followed the trail (meaning someone else’s footsteps), I ended up on a huge field of solid ice – melted and frozen again, avalanche debris. For a few minutes before that, I was wondering whether I should swap my trekking poles for an ice axe. I should have…
It was so icy that the poles had no chance. I even struggled to make steps in the ice with crampons. I desperately needed to get the ice axe, but taking off the backpack was out of the question. I could hardly stand still safely, not to mention making any moves. There were bare rocks a few steps away. Steps meant moving, but somehow I managed that! I got the ice axe and hoped I’d be able to climb up. I took a few steps and then I got stuck! Going up was too dangerous, simply mental. Going down was almost equally bad. With any move, I was risking sliding down on that ice and there was a long way to fall. I don’t think that I’d have been able to stop with the ice axe if I fell. I felt unable to make a single step, but I was aware that standing still wasn’t an option either.

Believe me… I did fear… and I honestly thought that I might not see you – all of you, any of you – again. Oh, and I was praying hard. I had Matt Maher singing in my ears ‘Lord, I need you…’ and the Community of Taize chanting ‘O God, keep me safe…’. I couldn’t quite keep up with singing out loud as I normally do, but I did in my head. It’s funny how those playlists always have the right lyrics at the right time.

I think in ‘The Shack’ someone said:

‘You are not stuck because you can’t.
You are stuck because you won’t.’

I knew I couldn’t stay there. I looked around or as much around as I could without moving and decided that my only chance was to try to walk across this ice to the other side of this gully or couloir – whatever a technical term for this is. At that point, the sun came up and shone right in front of me. Almost immediately, it softened ever so slightly that ice in front of me. I have no idea how long it took – too long for my liking – but I made it to the other side and then down to a decent path to the pass. It took a while to shake it off.

We get stuck in various ways in various situations in life. It’s rarely about being physically stuck like I was on that iced mountain. The mechanism of getting unstuck is the same, though. Getting unstuck is a choice. It’s a decision which only you can make. You may remain stuck because you are afraid of making a move, taking a risk (whatever it is), but remaining stuck is a risk in itself. It might not be an immediate risk and it might not be life-threatening like it was in this case, but it is a risk.

Where are you stuck today? What’s your solid ice field to cross?

What is the risk that you need to take?

What freedom will it bring you if you make this move?

What are you risking remaining stuck?

The Pyrenees Day 6: Refuge Wallon – Lourdes

On By Mountains of Life3 Comments

It was another good night and it makes a huge difference. There is a lady at the reception who speaks decent English. She tells me that if I’m going down to the valley, the weather won’t be too bad. Be wise and guess what that means – not too bad. To start with, it’s raining, but very lightly in comparison to last night. It must have been shortly after I arrived yesterday afternoon when the heavens opened. There was a group older French walkers who stayed in Bachimaña the night before, but they came a different way and much later than me. They were absolutely soaked. Well, I definitely count my blessings!

When I was no more than a half-way down to Pont d’Espagne, the sun came out and I took off all my waterproofs. All the way through this valley is wide and gentle. When you walk up, there is nothing to prepare you for Mordor on du Marcadau, but to be fair, it was equally shocking walking from the Spanish side.

When I pass Refuge du Clot, I see the signposts for chair lift to Gaube Lake. Even before I saw it, I was considering changing the plan and walking up Valley de Gaube. When I was in the Pyrenees seven years ago, I was walking down this valley in the rain like yesterday, so I didn’t see much. When I saw that for €13, I could cut the most boring part of the valley, I didn’t think twice. I made peace with taking a taxi, so I can jump on a chair lift, too. That wouldn’t be unthinkable anyway. I looked at the map and was hoping that maybe I could get to the Refuge de Gaube (I had a really good impression of that place) and then walk over to the Valley de Lutour that would take me straight to Cauterets. I felt so good. I was carrying all the gear, but I was running like I used to when I was sixteen. I had to put suncream on, but the temperature was just perfect to warm me up before winter. Spanish and French maps are not timed and the signposts on the French side notoriously underestimate the distances, to the point that people brutally correct those timings. Even running, I didn’t have a chance to make it to Cauterets in time for the last bus. Valley de Gaube lies between two beautiful mountain ridges and takes you along a gorgeous stream and waterfalls, so technically it is a valley, but it’s not flat at all. It climbs constantly and is pretty steep at times. Vignemale in front of me looks very tempting. I could possibly cancel my meeting with Agnes tonight, but it would be madness and I’ve got a feeling that I’m just getting to the end of good weather. That’s fine. I don’t think that it’s my last trip to the Pyrenees.

I remember from my previous visit that it’s an hour walk down from Pont d’Espagne to Cauterets, so I walked up till 3 o’clock leaving myself a couple of hours to get back down to Pont d’Espagne and then an hour to the bus. I bump into Synna and Kristin on the way down and I speed up. On the last section before Pond d’Espagne I have a quick chat with a couple who lets me pass as she seems to be injured. I’m not sure, but I think that they are Irish. They offered me a lift to Argeles which is about 15 km before Lourdes. I thank them and carry on simply thinking that I would still need to get to Lourdes. However, I didn’t think straight… A few minutes later Filip phoned. As we chatted, I asked him what time it was – I was just passing that sign saying that Caurterets -1h. I had exactly an hour to catch the bus. One thing that I didn’t remember from my previous visit was that then I had plenty of time before the bus, so I stopped on the way to take photos and didn’t even look at the time. Did I say that earlier that French signposts underestimate distances? I was literally running almost for an hour, but it was no more than two thirds of the way. I knew I wasn’t going to make it and I was wondering how I would get a lift to Lourdes. Then there was a young couple in front of me. She really struggled with walking and I was going to offer her one of my trekking poles. They didn’t look prepared at all and she was terrified, but there was little encouragement or help that I could offer as they didn’t speak English at all. Through Google translate I managed to ask them where they were going from Caurterets and agreed to take me to Lourdes. After that run, this is a very slow walk, but I’m not in a hurry now. I follow them keeping some distance, so they don’t feel rushed. The half an hour in the car is a bit awkward, but take me directly to the hotel. They refused to take any money from me. God bless them abundantly!

On the mountain the Lord will provide