I remember it as if it was yesterday. My very in-shape sister (who was at the time running half-marathons), and a very out-of-shape me (who at the time was battling a nasty case of shingles), took a day trip to Waterton Lakes National Park in southwest Alberta.
Rather than stick to the usual touristy sights we always visited, we decided to try something new and explore the Bertha Lake trail. As we made our way to the trailhead, I had no idea what to expect, but as we began I was lulled into a false sense of ease with the path straight and relatively flat before us. I drank in the spectacle all around me: the sparkling blue waters of Upper Waterton Lake below, the wildflowers all around us, and the intoxicating aroma of evergreen wafting to my nostrils with every breath. Heavenly.
We reached Lower Bertha Falls and paused for a moment. The beauty of this sight would have been reward enough for the exercise, but the trail continued and we had a taste for adventure. As we continued, not exactly knowing where this trail was leading, I laughed and pointed up at a mountain peak in the near distance and said with a wink to my sister, "we're going there." My jesting was soon met with nervousness however, as the path suddenly turned from flat into a series of switchbacks taking us quite literally up the mountain. This was not a joke. The further we hiked, the clearer the realization became that this mountain peak was indeed where we were headed.
My first test was a little ridge where the path turned and there was a "cliff" all of two metres on one side. Laugh as you may, I've struggled with a fear of heights my entire life. That foreboding precipice might as well have been two hundred metres for me. Sweating and trembling, I rounded that curve holding my older sister's hand and we continued onto the switchbacks. Novice hiker that I was, I paused every few metres to gasp for breath as my lungs tried to reoxygenate my burning limbs that were quickly filling with lactic acid. "I can't do this! How can I climb a mountain? What am I doing? I have no experience! This is crazy!" It was then that a still small voice said, "Don't focus on the peak that looms above you. Place your eyes on the path and on your feet. Focus on the next step. And then the next. And then the next."
We climbed and climbed, passing breathtaking waterfalls and panoramic vistas on our ascent, all the while stopping every few moments for me to rest. Then, after what seemed like a very long time, we rounded the 21st and final switchback.
My breath caught in my chest and my eyes widened to see the glistening turquoise waters of Bertha Lake, at 1765 metres (5790 feet) above sea level. We actually climbed that mountain to which I had earlier pointed in jest. How did a novice like me, dealing with a case of shingles, make it to the top?
Step by step. One foot over the other. With lots of breaks to breathe, take in the view, and recover from the exertion and effort.
Even as nearly twenty years have passed since that day, I continually go back to it in my memory, as it has become to me a metaphor for my life.
Life is very much like a hike. Often times as we journey, we are faced with a mountain that seems too large to climb. We look up at the obstacle in terror and feel so small; so inadequate; so inexperienced. "How are we going to do this? I'm not cut out for this." I have learned through the myriad of challenges I have faced throughout my life that the key to victory in life is the same as it was on this hike: keep your eyes on the path (not on the mountain), one step at a time, and take the time needed to recoup your strength and regain your energy.
The subtitle of this new blog is: Climbing to victory one step at a time.
As I share my journey, the many obstacles and challenges I have faced (and am facing), how I got through them and what I learned in the process, I hope that you are encouraged on the unique path of your own life. You too can do this -- one step at a time!
Welcome, fellow mountaineers. Let's journey together.
The LORD Almighty is my strength. He makes my feet like those of a deer. He enables me to tread on the mountains. Habakkuk 3:19
This blog is dedicated to the memory of my beautiful sister, Caroline Barbara, who after a short battle with cancer, finished her final ascent into eternity on March 9, 2024.
