Vertigo, Ego and Getting a Little Wiser
I’ve known people when hiking with a ”I must get to the top” thing going on. In others it’s “I must get to the top - at all costs”, and for others it’s something like “maybe I’ll just go for a beautiful walk”.
What’s your story when there’s a mountain in front of you?
Off I go. Mindful that I’m hiking at over 3000m, I take it slow. Yet twenty steps at this altitude, even at what feels a slow ascent, is like nothing I’ve ever felt. If you’ve climbed at altitude, you’ll know.
I stop frequently. I have an eye on my Alltrails app; it’s a beautiful day, and I’m told the sights round the three-hour hike are incredible. Walking the steep steps puts my lungs in overwhelm I feel a fragility I’ve rarely felt. My thoughts shift. Maybe I’ll just go so far. I then take a trail round the side of the mountain. It’s exposed to the wind, and it’s a death drop. So, even though it’s a wide path, if you fell, well, chances of survival are slim. I look down and a dizzying vertigo ripples through me. My legs weaken, breathing quickens.
I’d liked to have hiked the whole path. But really..? I run 5k fast-ish sometimes, even when my body tells me to run slower. So today - do I need to affirm something about my own sense of masculinity, or mortality?
It’s an easy decision.
Go back.
From the top of a mountain we can only see what we can see from the top; and so the master, Hwan, guides his student down the mountain, not up, in his teaching of enlightenment in this ancient chinese parable. And of course, we can only see so much from wherever we stand, this is simply our lens of the world, and this realisation helps us to respect what at first, we cannot see. This new awareness teaches us humility in the face of our not-knowing.
So it’s all about the descent.
Isn’t it.
The book that touched me most, and the most impactful book I read during my times of descent was Richard Rohr’s: Falling Upward. It’s a beautiful book, and if you seek, I’d recommend it heartily.
On the way down I meet a new friend, Justine. It’s been a solitary day mostly, and she’s a real blessing. She’s travelling alone and we strike up a conversation. She’s curious, friendly and we connect quickly. We get to the bottom and have something to eat in the beautiful Plaza de Armas of Pisac.
A truck pulls up. And directly in front of us, the remains of what looks like a small collapsed building are loaded onto the back of it via the restaurant. A policewoman looks on, with the casual air of completely ineffective officialdom that the law-enforcers here have. Some of them seem to just walk around blowing whistles. The materials are piled high, high enough to easily topple over when the truck moves. Even more materials go on, and surely, as soon as the driver pulls away, they’ll fall. The driver then wraps a flimsy, green twine twice round the huge mound to keep it in place, and drives the truck bumpily off at 2-3mph.
It’s ridiculous, and I love it. Along with the beautiful landscape and Justine’s companionship, this tender, comic scene is another of the best moments of the day.
