Later, I was taken aback to hear Brad say that he’d been
scared at points during the climb – Brad, whose unit had been
hit with three Taliban IEDs; Brad, whose jovial demeanour I’d
believed to be unphasable. Nor was the fit young Jonathon
immune to the mountain’s power, as I discovered when he
expressed apprehensions to me at one point during the climb.
After descending the mellower north-west ridge, we ambled
across the glacier back to the hut, where we found Prakash,
Damien and John still smiling from their own experience, a
fresh pot of coffee and kettle on the boil. They’d gone down by a
slightly trickier path than us, yet the experience had them fired
up for their coming attempt on Aspiring. Once we’d all relaxed
and slipped into clean socks, it was evident that we all held a
new respect for the mountains as we ref lected on the day’s
adventure.
TAKING STOCK
What felt like three very long hours of walking down the glacier
with heavy loads saw us to our pickup location, where we were
soon swept up by helicopter before conditions deteriorated that
afternoon. The weather had allowed us six days in the
mountains, which left me content as we loaded the van and
rolled back to Wanaka.
We napped as we travelled, and our knees creaked as we
hauled ourselves from our seats upon stopping for lunch. The
physical tiredness was accompanied by a sense of satisfaction,
but what really took its toll on me was the emotional drain. For
someone who thrives in solitude, the intensity of our trip and
the confines of our hut were sure to have had an effect; suffice
it to say, I was overdue some time to myself.
The next evening, I sat on the f loor of my Wanaka hotel and
repacked my bags for the f light home, comfortable in the
silence. I stuffed dirty clothes into dry-bags and at last took
care to place my brand-new guidebooks into a safe space at the
top of my pack. I wasn’t sure when I’d return, but I knew the
seed was sewn for future trips to New Zealand’s Alps and I’d
have plenty of time to pour over the books in search of the
perfect objective.
In the end, the mountains didn’t give me any epiphanies. In
fact, they offered even more mysteries I hadn’t conceived of
beforehand. I’d discovered how vast the scope of motivation can
be when it comes to climbing and solidified a desire to go back.
Perhaps that’s the whole point; people return simply to see
what they’ll discover with each consecutive summit (or lack
thereof). That seems like enough of a reason to me.
In the end, the mountains themselves don’t take on any
tangible meaning until we interact with them; it’s that
interaction that we dream of. As with any f leeting experience,
the ephemeral moment draws people back for just one more hit,
over and over. I’m left to wonder if in that way, there are no
“those people”. It’s natural for every person to seek joy in one
form or another, and while some look for it at the top of a
mountain, others search for it in a domestic setting – in each
case, the end goal is to realise a vision. Personally, these last
few years have shown me how to embrace the process and I'm
thankful that along the way I've met so many great people
who've helped me discover satisfaction within the journey
itself.Outdoor \ 65