Sunshine, wildflowers, great views, alone time - a day hike with my boyfriend at Lake Louise, Sept. 10, was going to be so romantic.
I had hiked a few multiple-day hikes, including one through a lot of unexpected snow, so this half-day excursion was going to be easy.
Halfway to the top, we began removing layers because of how beautiful and warm the weather was.
The weather, the conversation, the mountains - everything was perfect, just how I had planned it.
Two-and-a-half hours committed, nearing the top of the highest peak, ideas of romance butted heads with reality.
We left the sunny weather and entered a cloud of horizontal sleet resulting in slippery mud just in time for the most challenging part of the hike. The sunny stroll I had envisioned translated into two soggy hikers with burnt-out butt muscles bartering for breaks.
I had seen us following a sunlit path toward a mountain covered in fragrant wildflowers while butterflies trailed behind us and fairies subliminally echoed audible sweet nothings.
But there was nothing sweet about it. I had clearly let my expectations get away from me.
Corny romance aside, it was difficult enough just to refrain from falling off the edge of the mountain between a miscommunication of bodily functions, extreme weather and maintaining an ultimate game face.
Huff, huff, huff. Stop.
The sun was shy and we were freezing.
Huff, huff, huff. Stop.
I cursed my mother in my mind for my short-legged strides. So, so tired.
I wondered how I could be so out of shape before recognizing how distant my memories of the gym were.
Huff, huff, huff, huff, huff. Stop.
Sweaty, frazzled, soaking wet and covered in mud - attractiveness was not an option at this point.
My boyfriend told me we were almost at the top.
“Liar,” I thought to myself.
“Awesome,” I said between breaths, trying to keep face.
I worried that the hero of my story was becoming the enemy as he motored up that mountain, but I followed his lead.
Step by step, one foot in front of the other, I kept my head down and focused on the little goals.
Huff, huff, huff. Break.
Huff, huff, huff. Break.
Huff, huff, huff. Stop.
Flat ground? Were we actually there?
Huff, huff, huff. Relief.
The deep canyon revealed a view of the crystal blue lake. My partner’s reaction matched mine as we laughed in relief and stood proudly atop the mountain we had just conquered.
We sat down and let our hard work pay off.
I forgot my jelly legs, my borderline suicidal thoughts of jumping off the mountain and my soggy, cold body.
None of those things now mattered. We made it.
I looked over the side of the mountain and felt so small.
It was both exhilarating and terrifying to be so insignificant. We were just two tiny humans at the mercy of nature.
It felt like a big accomplishment.
I thought about what it took to get to that point. Minutes before I was so frustrated, but this was the reason we made the trek.
Sometimes we focus so much on the tasks at hand that we forget about the bigger picture.
It’s easy to dwell on unexpected situations that don’t turn out as planned.
We can map out elaborate plans, and sometimes they go awry, but at the end of the day we all have a reason for the efforts in our lives, and it is important to remember them.
We are alive, we have survived, we have made it to this day, and we are making the best of every moment.
And when it’s hard to forget about the trek to the top of the mountain, at least the rest of the way is downhill.
